The Gingerbread Man

The Little Gingerbread Man

One day, the cook went into the kitchen to make some gingerbread. She took some flour and water, and treacle and ginger, and mixed them all well together. She put in some more water to make it thin, and then some more flour to make it thick, and a little salt and some spice. Then she rolled it out into a beautiful, smooth, dark-yellow dough.

She took the square tins and cut out some square cakes for the little boys. With some round tins she cut out some round cakes for the little girls. Then she said, "I'm going to make a little gingerbread man for little Bobby." So she took a nice round lump of dough for his body, and a smaller lump for his head. She pulled the head out a little to make the neck. Two other lumps were stuck on below for the legs, and pulled out into shape, with feet and toes all complete. Two still smaller pieces were made into arms, with dear little hands and fingers.

But the nicest work was done on the head. The top was frizzed up into a pretty sugary hat. On either side was a dear little ear. In front, after the nose had been carefully shaped, a beautiful mouth was made out of a big raisin. Two bright little eyes were made with burnt almonds and caraway seeds.

The gingerbread man was finished and ready for baking. He was a very jolly little man. In fact, he looked so sly that the cook was afraid he was planning some mischief. When the dough was ready for the oven, she put in the square cakes and she put in the round cakes. Then she put the little gingerbread man in a far back corner, where he couldn't get away in a hurry.

Then she went up to sweep the parlor. She swept and she swept until the clock struck twelve. She dropped her broom in a hurry and cried, "Oh no! The gingerbread will be all burned!" She ran down into the kitchen and threw open the oven door. The square cakes were all done, nice and hard and brown. The round cakes were all done, nice and hard and brown. The gingerbread man was all done too, nice and hard and brown. He was standing up in his corner, with his little caraway-seed eyes sparkling, and his raisin mouth bubbling over with mischief. He was waiting for the oven door to open. The instant it did, with a hop, skip, and a jump, he went right over the square cakes and the round cakes, and over the cook's arm. Before she could say a word, he was running across the kitchen floor as fast as his little legs would carry him. He ran towards the back door, which was standing wide open. Through it, he could see the garden path.

The old cook turned round as fast as she could, which wasn't very fast. She was rather a heavy woman, and she had been quite taken by surprise. Lying right across the doorway, fast asleep in the sun, was old Mouser the cat.

"Mouser, Mouser," she cried, "stop the gingerbread man! I want him for little Bobby." When the cook first called, Mouser thought it was only someone calling in her dreams, and she just rolled over lazily. The cook called again, "Mouser, Mouser!" The old cat sprang up with a jump. But just as she turned round to find out what all the noise was about, the little gingerbread man cleverly jumped under her tail. In an instant he was trotting down the garden path. Mouser turned in a hurry and ran after him. She was still rather too sleepy to know what she was trying to catch. After the cat came the cook, moving heavily but making pretty good speed.

Now at the bottom of the path, fast asleep in the sun against the warm stones of the garden wall, was Towser the dog.

The cook called out, "Towser, Towser, stop the gingerbread man! I want him for little Bobby."

When Towser first heard her, he thought it was someone speaking in his dreams. He only turned over on his side with another snore. Then the cook called again, "Towser, Towser, stop him, stop him!"

The dog woke up in good earnest and jumped to his feet to see what he should stop. But just as the dog jumped up, the little gingerbread man, who had been watching for his chance, quietly slipped between his legs. He climbed up to the top of the stone wall. So Towser saw nothing but the cat running towards him down the path, and behind the cat the cook, now quite out of breath.

Towser thought at once that the cat must have stolen something, and that it was the cat the cook wanted him to stop. Now, if there was anything Towser liked, it was going after the cat. He jumped up the path so fast that the poor cat did not have time to stop herself or get out of his way. They came together with a great fizzing, and barking, and meowing, and howling, and scratching, and biting, as if two fireworks had gone off the wrong way and got all mixed up with each other.

But the old cook had been running so hard that she couldn't stop herself either. She fell right on top of the tangled dog and cat, and all three rolled over on the path in a heap together.

The cat scratched at whatever came nearest, whether it was a piece of the dog or of the cook. The dog bit at whatever came nearest, whether it was a piece of the cat or of the cook. So the poor cook was hurt badly on both sides.

Meanwhile, the gingerbread man had climbed up on the garden wall. He stood on top with his hands in his pockets, watching the whole mess and laughing until tears ran down from his little caraway-seed eyes. His raisin mouth was bubbling all over with fun.

After a little while, the cat managed to pull herself out from under the cook and the dog. She looked very sad and crumpled up. She had had enough of hunting gingerbread men, and she crept back to the kitchen to sort herself out.

The dog was very cross because his face had been badly scratched. He let go of the cook, and at last caught sight of the gingerbread man. He made a dash for the garden wall. The cook picked herself up. Her face was badly scratched and her dress was torn, but she was set on seeing the end of the chase. She followed after the dog, though this time much more slowly.

When the gingerbread man saw the dog coming, he jumped down on the far side of the wall and began running across the field. In the middle of the field was a tree, and at the foot of the tree lay Jocko the monkey. He wasn't asleep — monkeys never are — and when he saw the little man running across the field and heard the cook calling, "Jocko, Jocko, stop the gingerbread man," he gave one big jump. But he jumped so fast and so far that he went right over the gingerbread man. As luck would have it, he came down on the back of Towser the dog, who had just climbed over the wall and who Jocko had not noticed before. Towser was surprised. He turned his head around and bit off the end of the monkey's tail. Jocko quickly jumped off again, chattering with anger.

Meanwhile, the gingerbread man had got to the bottom of the tree. He said to himself, "Now, I know the dog can't climb a tree, and I don't think the old cook can climb a tree. And as for the monkey — I'm not sure, for I've never seen a monkey before. But I am going up."

So he pulled himself up, hand over hand, until he got to the very top branch.

But the monkey had jumped in one spring onto the lowest branch, and in an instant he was at the top of the tree too.

The gingerbread man crawled out to the very end of the branch and hung by one hand. But the monkey swung himself under the branch, stretched out his long arm, and pulled the gingerbread man in. He held him up and looked at him so hungrily that the little raisin mouth began to droop down at the corners, and tears filled the caraway-seed eyes.

And then what do you think happened? Little Bobby himself came running up! He had been taking his nap upstairs, and in his dreams it kept seeming as if he could hear people calling, "Little Bobby, little Bobby!" Finally he jumped up with a start. He was so sure someone was calling him that he ran downstairs without even waiting to put on his shoes.

As he came down, he could see through the window — out in the field beyond the garden — the cook, the dog, and the monkey. He could even hear Towser barking and Jocko chattering. He ran down the path with his little bare feet pattering on the warm