[Primrose Bolger]

Ginger decided that perhaps one cup of the Grannies’ brew was enough. Her cheeks were quite warm, and she imagined actually quite red, as she put the back of one hand to her left cheek. She wriggled her toes in the soft grass where she stood and could feel the tingle in them as promised. The music from across the way set them tapping. Oh, my, but this would be a good night for dancing! She shivered in anticipation.

She noted, as she stood there, casually looking about for any sign of Ferdy, that many of those working earlier that morning had now returned to the yard dressed in their partying clothes. Ginger looked down at her skirt, stained with frosting from cookies she’d put in baskets and her blouse, wrinkled because she’d thrown it hastily on the floor last night. Now her cheeks were indeed crimson, and she hoped that not many had noted her messy state.

With wings on her feet, Ginger flew toward the Inn. Just as she reached the steps, she saw a cart enter the lane toward the Inn. Not Ferdy and his Da and Gran, she decided, her face falling a bit. Her sense of disappointment evaporated as she caught sight of who was driving. With a whoop of glee she dashed through the Inn and tried to push through the doors to the kitchen. They were locked!

Ginger banged with both fists on the doors and yelled out loudly. ‘Cook! Cook! Master Samwise is here with his family!’

On the other side of the door, she could just hear the sound of rapid footsteps nearing the door and the sound of a key in the lock . . .