‘Don’t need any planning!’ Hanson whispered, his eyes lighting up with mischief. He pointed to where the cat and punchbowl were flying through the air. There was a loud crash and the punch fanned out, splashing a great number of the partygoers. The attention of most of the crowd turned to the soggy fiasco.
‘Come on!’ said Hanson, pulling on Wren’s hand. Tim and Woody followed after.
The table on which the cakes sat had a lovely tablecloth that hung over the sides and ends; making it, for all practical purposes much like a secret cave beneath. The four children sneaked along the side farthest from the party area. One by one, each ducked beneath the table. The light from the candle lanterns in the trees threw a soft glow through the white cloth.
‘Now here’s what we do,’ explained Hanson, who had done this once before at a gathering held up by the party tree. One would stand by the table, keeping watch. One would spy out an easy to grab cake, and pass it down to the two beneath the table, along with some spoons.
He looked to where the mess around the punch bowl was being sorted out. Surely no one would notice if they borrowed a small pitcher of milk, too, to pass round. ‘Woody . . . you and Wren go fetch some milk for us first. Then we’ll bring the cake under when you’ve got back.’ He looked at Tim with a grin on his face. ‘Me and Tim’ll spy out the best cake while you’re gone.’
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If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world – J.R.R. Tolkien
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