Jane was quite tired, but still, she had an apple pie to make and she would do so. What she did not expect was to find a crying young man upon the merry-go-round. She wandered closer, the basket of apples at her side. "Young sir?" she gently asked, approaching. "Oh! Whatever is the matter?"
Jane was quite worried now and set her apples upon the ground, lifting the apron she wore to dry whatever tears appeared as she stroked a hand over his hair. "Oh, darling," she said sympathetically, with a note of worry within her tone. "Would this perchance be because you are not normally a child?"
Jane extended a hand to him, urging him to accompany her. "Come," she invited. "I would dearly enjoy company whilst I bake an apple pie. And perhaps you might have a slice for yourself? I do think pie is much tastier than toys," she said, quite serious.
"Lattice top?" Jane inquired curiously, for she had never heard of such a thing. "Perhaps you might show me such a thing and I shall attempt it!" Her words were optimistic and bright. "I have only as of late learned to make pies properly." She opened the doors for the both of them as she went, pleased to do so.
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