“But we don’t,” Ollie said.
Ma Peachey gave him a stern look. “We do,” she said.
“Pa is certain to be awarded last place,” Ollie said.
“There is no award for last place,” Ava said. “There will be a winner and a second place, and maybe even a third. But everyone else will just be . . .”
“Losers,” Ollie said.
“I think your sister is right,” Ma Peachey said. “Short of a miracle, we must simply show that we have faith in your father.”
“But what if we don’t have faith?” Ollie said.
“Then we must pretend,” said Ma Peachey.
Just then, McTavish and Betty thundered down the stairs, panting and laughing. They flopped onto the floor and lay there.
“How is Pa’s palace looking today?” Betty asked.
“How do you think?” Ollie asked.
“Oh,” said Betty. She felt suddenly sad. “Pa Peachey is not very good at baking, but in the past he has been very good at being a kind and understanding father,” she said to McTavish. “We must think of a way to help him. What on earth can we do?”
McTavish looked thoughtful. He was considering the same question.
He had rescued the Peachey family many times in the past. But could he rescue Pa Peachey from being the worst baker in the world?
This time he was not so sure.
The morning of the judging arrived.
Despite Ollie hoping that the world might end a few hours before daybreak, it did not.
Despite Ollie hoping for a very dense fog that would reduce visibility to just a few inches, or a blizzard that would shut down all the roads and cause the competition to be canceled, it was a beautiful, clear, and sunny day.
Pa Peachey had worked all night, gluing and decorating. In the final few hours, he threw his entire heart and soul into the project, every ounce of his determination and skill.
The Palace of Versailles looked terrible.
Pa Peachey was too tired to notice how it looked. But the rest of the Peacheys had resigned themselves to humiliation and ridicule. It was impossible to imagine any other result.
“Poor, poor Pa,” Betty said.
“Poor, poor Pa,” said Ava.
“Poor, poor us,” said Ollie, hoping nobody he knew would be at the competition.
Ma Peachey shook her head sadly.
Everybody helped transfer the terrible Palace of Versailles onto a large wooden board. Ma Peachey wrapped it around and around with a loose cover of brown paper for protection. Then she and Ollie placed it ever so carefully into the trunk of the car.
The Peacheys all climbed into the car with infinite care so as not to joggle Pa’s creation. Pa Peachey looked tired and dejected.
Ma Peachey drove slowly and carefully.
Pa Peachey was so tired from his all-night efforts that he kept nodding off on the way to the town hall.
When at last Ma Peachey stopped the car, he jerked up from a dream.
“First prize? Why, I am so honored! Thank you, Madam Mayor, and thank you, Fame and Fortune Flour Company! Five hundred dollars will allow me to achieve ever greater feats of baking!” Pa Peachey blinked happily, still half-asleep.
“Wake up, Pa.” Ava shook his shoulder gently. “We’ve just arrived at the town hall. They haven’t begun the judging yet.”
“Oh,” Pa Peachey said.
Betty and McTavish leaped out of the car and began running in figure eights around the parking lot.
“Wheeee!” Betty shouted.
“Woof!” McTavish answered.
Ma Peachey and Ollie removed the Grand Masterpiece from the trunk of the car.
“I’ll take that,” Pa Peachey said.
“I think it might be better if I carried it, Pa,” Ollie said. “You look very tired.”
Pa Peachey sighed. “I suppose I am tired. And I suppose if you carry the masterpiece, I can practice my speech.”
Nobody asked which speech he was practicing, though everyone in the Peachey family had the same nervous idea—that Pa Peachey was practicing his victory speech.
Betty had brought McTavish’s ball, and the two of them practiced throwing and catching.
“Settle down, Betty,” Ma Peachey said.
Betty frowned. “But we need more exercise. McTavish and I are on the road to being fit and healthy.”
“Yes,” Ma Peachey said. “But perhaps now is not the right moment.”
The Peacheys approached the town hall, walking sideways and carrying Pa’s masterpiece with great care. Other contestants arrived with their masterpieces, some wrapped up and some not. The unwrapped entries caused Betty’s heart to sink. They were professional, elegant, beautifully constructed and worthy of a five-hundred-dollar prize.
One was a cake in the shape of a cactus. The cactus was so lifelike you had to look carefully to see that it was not a genuine desert plant.
Another cake looked exactly like a Formula One race car.
There was a beautiful, shiny loaf of bread in the shape of a blue whale.
Every entry looked amazing. Except for Pa Peachey’s.
A large handwritten sign directed entrants to a row of long tables set up on the lawn beside the town hall. A crowd had already gathered, and a banner read WELCOME, BAKERS, TO THE BAKE-OFF and then underneath that, SPONSORED BY THE FAME AND FORTUNE FLOUR COMPANY.
Ma Peachey and Ollie sidestepped carefully in the direction of the long tables, dreading the moment when the brown paper would have to come off.
After days of constant throwing and catching, McTavish and Betty were finding it impossible to stand still. So they had a hopping race from one side of the huge lawn to the other. McTavish was not a very good hopper, so he ran rings around Betty instead.
Ma Peachey and Ollie approached the long table, balancing Pa Peachey’s masterpiece between them on the large board.
Betty and McTavish played catch.
Sometimes McTavish added a little twist in the air, just to show off. Sometimes he waited till the last moment to jump so that everyone gasped and thought, He will never catch it this time. But McTavish always, always caught the ball.
Even when Betty’s throw wasn’t very good, McTavish caught the ball.
Which made what happened next so very surprising.
Betty threw the ball high
