Some mornings, he wouldn't rise until the sun was high and his son cried out.
Chip then started the fire and the Princess would wake soon and take the baby. She'd take him quickly which he was glad of because in the early glow of the fire, she looked not beautiful like a princess ought but instead she was lovely and warm as she swept back her hair in a braid and her bare feet walked towards him.
Not long after, the boy came in from the lean-to that he shared with his cow, his red hair messy and uncombed since sleeping and the girl jumped down all dressed in a red pinafore over her and stockings from the loft above, already self-conscious about wearing a shift and bare legs in front of him. He'd nod a brief 'good morning' to them and continue baking. They'd eat what is left of yesterday's bread; it is not too stale but is rather nicely crunchy. Jack brought in a bucket of milk for him to feed the baby with before he'd took Milky-White outside to graze and the girl ran off somewhere.
This had become routine after the house was finished. They had all helped him: He and Jack had built while the Princess swept, painted and cleaned away. They used the cow to help carry the heavier loads and the girl held the baby and watched. The cottage was bigger than he and Joan had ever dreamed of; it had a bakery with a new chimney and thatched roof, a loft above for the girls, a bedroom and main room, a small lean-to. They had to sell Jack's treasures from the Kingdom of the Giants to the Candlestick maker to pay for it.
The door twinkled open with the ring of their new bell and the Princess marched in, dragging the girl behind her by her wrist.
For once the Princess is angry—her fists are clenched, dark eyes wide and her cheeks are red. Chip backed up against the table as the girl is pushed into a chair.
"Chip!" The Princess spluttered. "You—I can't believe this, you!"
She is so angry that she can't find the words to say it but the baby can even feel her distress as he begins to wail.
"What's wrong?" he demanded, searching their faces. "What has happened?"
Bears, wolves, manticores and griffins—no they're imaginary and extinct—a dragon? Another giant?
"She's just running around!" The Princess exclaimed. "She does nothing everyday and then I found her in the Witch's garden!"
There was a silence, save the girl and baby whimpering.
"What did you take?" He said to her, his voice angrier than he had ever heard it.
"Nothing! I swear," the girl exclaimed, blue eyes terrified as she shrank back, trying to hide behind her loose curls. Nothing used to ever scare her but since they left the Woods, he heard her cry out at night now and again.
"Then why?" The Princess demanded, hands on her hips much like Joan used to.
"I wasn't doing anything, Cinderella!" She pleaded. "I just wanted some flowers!"
The request seemed absolutely ridiculous to him. There had always been cabbages, lettuce, rampion, rue, greens, nectarines and the beans but never flowers.
"There's never been any flowers in that garden," Chip replied.
"Not even roses, Mr. Baker?" She asked, a desperate tone rising.
"Why do you even want roses of all things? They die so quickly—"
"Mother and I always put them on my father's grave," the girl mumbled.
He turned towards the Princess hopefully, as she was always the one to answer her crying in the night. "Princess," he began.
"I'm not a princess here!" She exploded. She shook her head tearfully at him and rushed out the door.
It's like that night in the Woods—the longest night of his life when Joan died, the Witch almost stole his son before she vanished, taking the girl to Granny's before they killed the Giant.
They had hurried down the dell towards the three large oak trees. Although she was smaller than both he and Jack, she ran ahead of them.
And then she stopped at the crest of the hill. When they reached her she was sobbing and the little house was crumbling.
He hadn't seen her crying since then and this time, he couldn't send her back to the Princess.
He had been a father for four months and a husband for what should be three and a half years, but he had been fatherless for twenty-seven years.
"What was he like?" He asked hesitantly. The girl sniffled, her brown hair trembling as she shook her head.
"He died before I was born," she said morosely. "He was a hunter, Mother said, shot by another one because he was dressed so not to scare the deer and—"
"I see," he cut her off quickly. "So you just had your mother and granny your whole life."
She nodded along. "Granny was my father's mother. She was the one who made me the red cape so the hunters wouldn't shoot me. And she gave me that old knife for protection."
"Your mother was Widow Mary, wasn't she?" Chip asked, trying to recall.
The girl wiped her eyes. "She'd put roses on my father's grave every year," She mumbled again. "And she named me Roselyn when I was born."
"She spoiled you rather badly." Chip said absent-mindedly, remembering the little girl who took all their cookies and ate them all before she reached Granny's.
She jumped up at that. "She did not! She never let me go anywhere until I was twelve and got to go to Granny's by myself and even then she kept reminded me to not stray from the path—"
"Which you strayed from and got eaten by a Wolf!" Chip reprimanded her.
She faltered at that. "Thank you." she said quietly. "I never said it, but it was really very brave of you to cut open the Wolf like that. Granny and Mother both said it was something my father would have done too."
"You're welcome, Roselyn." He returned as he walked back to his baking. The girl dried her eyes on her dress.
"I wish I knew my father though," Roselyn said sadly. "Cinderella had her's, Jack remembers his. I'm sure he would have taught me about the Woods and that wolves would have tried to eat me."
"I don't have a father either," Chip told her, clapping his hands to eliminate the extra powder. "He ran off when I was a little boy after my mother died. But he taught me about bread before he left."
The girl moved her chair closer, elbows on the table and her face between her palms. "Would you teach me?" She requested, blue eyes bright.
He waited for a moment, taking her in. He had dark hair and his wife's eyes had been light. Their coloring had been different shades from her's but still she could be—
He grabbed an old apron hanging and handed it over to her. Roselyn's face brightened and she slipped the sleeves over her arms. He noticed her folding the waist over and tying it tighter than he remembered it being tied to make up the difference in size.
Soon, her hands were white with flour too and she was kneading the bread dough triumphantly. "It's like us," Roselyn told him as he checked the oven heat. "I keep crushing it down but look, it's already rising back up again!"
Her fist makes an indent like a Giant's footstep before it slowly lifts itself back up.
"If you've finished terrorizing your dough, I'll show you how to braid it and make it really fancy-looking for festivals and weddings." Chip offered as she smiled and handed him the dough. "Now, split the dough into three strands and it's like your mother braiding your hair—"
"I don't want to use three strands." She declared instantly. "Three was the number of people in my old family but now I have five. A father," She said as she split the first strand away. "A mother, a brother, me and a baby."
Chip watched her fingers deftly weave the five of them together into one loaf. "A baker's daughter would always be well-fed." He offered. "Roselyn Baker."
She studied her baking for a moment as the bell rang and their family returned. "Cinderella!" Roselyn called out. "I made a loaf of bread!" Immediately, she bustled over to see the creation, but Jack had his own news to share.
"The village has a new shepherd boy! His name is Peter," Jack announced.
"Why don't you tell us more about the miller's daughter, Jack?" Roselyn asked sweetly but with a glare at having her moment stolen. "What was her name again—Jean?"
"Jill!" He blurted out as she laughed.
"Children!" The Princess scolded them but she smiled too. "Jill sounds like a very nice girl, Jack. Chip, Zemel had a nap earlier but he's quite awake now—"
"Da!" His son called out, arms outstretched. Trembling, Chip took Zemel from her and held his son against his heart. Roselyn was practically skipping in place.
"Now we have a reason to celebrate and eat the braided bread I made! Zemel said his first word!" The baker's daughter cheered.
"Yes," Chip said. "We can eat your bread, Roselyn and we can celebrate our family, won't we, Cinderella?"
"Ma!" Zemel shouted now, reaching out for her to join them.
Perhaps the next braided bread loaf Roselyn and he would make would be for a wedding.
I'm on such an Into the Woods kick lately! I'm actually considering doing a full-length story just on Roselyn all from her pov on the show and the aftermath of Act 2. It's doubtful that it will get done though, as I've working on my HP series.
Just for reference; this is completely compliant with my other works(Except perhaps not Out of the Woods but definately Growing Sorrow and A Witch, a Child, Then a Prince) and the characters are based off a combination of the OBC, the book (the fantastic-ly illustrated one meant for kids) and my own production. Chip and Joan are obviously the Baker and his Wife. Zemel is thier son and according to my collection of names, it means "Bread". Roselyn is a combination of Rosslyn (Hooded, Cape) and Rose (Red Flower). And although she went noticably unmentioned, the Witch's true name would be Rue, for sorrow, regret and virginity.