Ivy and the Last Egg

Ivy was the only baker in Lily Pond who woke up before the sun.

Every morning, while the stars were still out, her clock went brrring, and she hopped out of bed. Up before the sun, that was Ivy.

She had a good reason. Everyone in Lily Pond ate breakfast on the big round lily pads, and everyone wanted a warm bun. Ivy wanted every bun golden and ready when the sun came up over the water. The sun always rose with a little ting, like a spoon on a cup. That was the moment the buns went out.

Ivy tied on her apron and stirred the flour and the milk. Then she picked up the last egg.

Crack. Splat! It slid right off the bowl and onto the floor.

"Oh no," said Ivy. "That was the last one."

She tiptoed to the henhouse. The hens were fast asleep with their heads tucked in. "Please, may I have an egg?" she whispered. The hens only grumbled and fluffed up bigger.

So Ivy tried something else. She baked the buns without an egg. They came out pale and dull, like pebbles.

"Up before the sun," she sighed, "and I have pebbles."

Just then a duck waddled in through the door. The morning was chilly, and she wanted to stand by the warm oven. She shook her wet feathers. Drip, drip, drip. A few drops landed on a pale bun.

Ivy looked closer. Where the drops fell, the bun was shiny!

"Shiny," whispered Ivy. "That's what the egg was for!"

She warmed a little milk with a spoonful of honey. She brushed it over every bun, one by one, and slid them back into the oven.

The duck quacked softly and settled down by the warmth.

Ivy carried the tray out to the pond. The sky was turning pink. She set a bun on each lily pad, and steam curled up from them like little ribbons.

Ting.

The sun peeked over the water, and every bun shone like a golden coin.