“What’s yer name and where do you live, sweetie?” the smiling old man asked. He was seated behind a cluttered table just in front of the inn.
There was something about the man that made Maren nervous. He had long, dirty, gray hair and he reeked of smoke. Her enthusiasm waned considerably, and she turned back to look at Micah.
“It’s okay,” the boy assured her. “They just want to know who you are so they can invite you back to celebrations in the future.”
This explanation comforted the girl somewhat, and she spoke up, “Maren. I live at Gale Hill Farm.”
“Very good!” the man behind the table said as he scribbled the information on a parchment. “You’ve come on a good day. There are pastries and cakes across the square and outside of the pub, and fresh roasted meat next to that. Also, there’s lots of music and dancing all day.” He then stood up, reached across the table, and tied a small red ribbon around her wrist, saying, “You’ll need to keep this on.”
Maren liked the way the ribbon looked. She smiled and then did a little jig to show her fondness for dancing.
“Wonderful!” the man applauded, clapping his hands. “I’m sure the two of you will have a splendid time.”
“Uh huh!” the girl agreed, and met eyes with her new friend once more. “I think I’ll start with some sweets.”
“Great idea!” Micah cheered. “Let’s go. They have a delicious cream pie.” He then began to skip in that direction with Maren in tow.
When they arrived outside of the pub, there were several people crowded around tables filled with the most gorgeous desserts the girl had ever seen. She approached one of them and eyed a fresh blackberry pie. Standing behind the table was a plump, drained-looking woman who smiled wanly at her and asked, “What can I get you, darlin’?”
Maren smiled and pointed at the pie she wanted. Her mouth watered and she swallowed in anticipation.
“Right then,” the woman said as she set a generous slice onto a tin plate, heaped fresh whipped cream on top, and handed it to her with a spoon that looked big enough to feed a large man.
The girl nodded in gratitude and turned around toward Micah. “There are tables over there,” the boy told her, pointing to an area at the edge of the town square. He then began walking in that direction.
Maren followed him, half watching the ground and half watching to make sure nothing slid off of her plate. The tables were full of festivalgoers but the boy found one with two empty seats across from each other.
From where she sat, the girl could see most of the goings on in the village. She watched as folks ate, laughed, and mingled, and was once again astounded by her good fortune to have wandered into town on such a day as this. She then took her spoon and scooped as much pie and whipped cream onto it as would fit and stuffed a surprising amount of it into her mouth.
The pie had an unexpected taste on her tongue. Though it seemed to promise to be the best dessert she had ever eaten, it was average at best. It was not bad, but not exquisite either. At first, she was disappointed, but she continued to eat it anyway.
“How’s the pie?” Micah asked her with an amused expression.
“Okay,” she answered before devouring more whipped cream and blackberries.
“I’ve eaten loads of sweets today,” the boy proclaimed as he puffed out his chest. “No one can eat more than me!”
Maren laughed through a mouth full of dark-purple berries, then forced another bite.
“What sort of things do you like to do?” Micah asked as his eyes followed her spoon.
The girl’s eyes lit up with his question. She grinned with pie-smudged teeth and answered, “Draw pictures, play with my mule, and read pirate stories.”
“Pirate stories. You don’t say!” the boy replied. “What’s so special about pirates?”
Maren’s excitement grew as she began talking about pirate adventures with an interested listener. “I read all the books, and I pretend my mule is Smarmy Kidd Black. He’s the most treacherous pirate on the nine seas! His ship has a crew of a hundred and fifty men and thirty trained dogs! Each of those dogs is named Typhoon, and their tails have been cut off so that they don’t smack anyone when they’re wagging them. Also, the ship has never been boarded by a child or a woman. Did you know that?”
Micah’s eyebrows raised as the young girl carried on with enormous amounts of information about life on the sea, swashbuckling, and the various minutia of ship rigging. When she finally stopped talking for a moment, he complimented, “You sure know a lot about pirates.”
“Uh huh!” she agreed. She then continued on with the names of all one hundred and fifty crew members, and how they are able to call the dogs to them, even though they are all named Typhoon. It was a long, drawn-out presentation, but it was worth it to educate her new friend on the ways of buccaneering in the world of her favorite books.
“Well,” the boy eventually broke in. “Um, did you know that there will be a book reading near the inn in just a wee bit?”
“I read books all the time,” she answered plainly, surprised that he hadn’t already picked up on that.
“No, I mean that someone will be reading a book out loud to everyone,” he said.
Maren’s cheeks raised at the thought of hearing a story told to the festivalgoers. Reading to herself was nice, but there was something special about being read aloud to. Her mother used to spend endless hours reading to her when she was younger, but that was a very long time ago. “Let’s go then!” she crowed. She then stuffed the remainder of the pie in her mouth and stood up
