Three damsels in brown dress; waist tied with pristine white apron and head covered in a short scarf, trotting heels here and there with hands full of trays and plates. Soft powder been sprinkled upon fluffy breads. The table at the centre of the room filled with cutted greens, bottles of spices, traces of flour, and other sorts of ingredients that is seemed to be in need for certain recipe. A man in curved mustache carefully yet swiftly dicing onions, garlics and carrots to pieces before sliding it off from the cutting board into the fiery wok and instantly mix them for some time.
A petite hand secretly grab the mount of nearby plate of luscious ginger bread biscuits. Apparently, the man sense something odd. He decides to let it slide. Once. Continuing his duty. Again, the collection of scrumptious of those biscuits soon decrease in obvious number. He let out small sigh. Slowly stepping near the plate. Surprisingly witnessing a child around 8 years old. Little did the child know, huge shadow hovering her until the last bits of ginger bread biscuit gone within her mouth. The girl wipe her hands on her puffy, pale-pink dress before making attempt for the next step.
"Getting another one, eh, princess?"
Her head quickly shot up causing her tiara fall back. Mouth locked as she still chews them.
The little princess gulp.
"Oopsie-daisy!" She clammed her mouth guiltily. Twisting her heels to the back to flee.
"Where do you think you're going, little lady?" He grabbed her by shoulder.
The child turn around facing the man with her very much of pitiful face. Eyes begging for empathy. Head slightly crook down. The girl innocently walk closer to him as he pulls her gently while kneeling on the floor.
"My goodness!" He chuckles. It feels impossible to get mad at her. Not even a strict act to help disciplining the child. His friend, Thomas, warn him for spoiling their master's daughter too much despite of her not having blood-related to him.
The girl responds nothing. Her mouth covered with chocolates. Cheeks decorated with crumbs. Yet her eyes as if telling him that she has done nothing wrong.
"Are you really that hungry?"
She shook her head.
"I can't help the smells of your cook."
He burst into huge laugh.
"My goodness, you are such a sweet-talker for your age!" He chortles. "Here. Just one more and next time, ask properly."
She nods.
Not for long moment, the door burst open, revealing a boy about 8 years old.
"Lady!" He called. Eyes gaze at the chef and then the little lass herself. "I've been looking for you. Master and Madame almost agitated that you've lost from their sight."
The girl only quiet. Mumbling simple yet unfeigned apology with her head hung down. The lad calmly walk to her.
"Fret not, little boy. The girl is in safe hand." The old man reassured him. Little lad's shoulder slowly lulls down. Swayed by the man's credence.
"I thank you for taking care of her."
"There is nothing to thank for, little lad." He chuckled. "We just simply met in the kitchen while this little lady collecting her brownies like a wee cookie monster." The old chef pinch the child's cheek teasingly and the girl chortle.
"Well then, Milady. It's time for you---"
"No!" She protested.
The boy slightly startled.
