It was hot in the kitchen. Far hotter than normal, and it seemed all the warmer for the unseasonably hot weather outside. The open oven door blasted heat out, causing the air around it to shimmer.
Wendy wiped a hand across her brow, leaving a track of flour in the place of the little sweat she had managed to move. She didn't notice, though, for what was a little flour compared to the amount she was already covered in? She ran her flour covered hands down the front of her apron. It had been so white, once, so new. Now it was as worn as her dress, which she had outgrown years ago.
The latest batch of buns would be done now. She lifted them out of the oven, deeply inhaling their warm, fresh scent as she did. They smelled of wood smoke, yeast, and that something else that was so distinctly Neverland. It was a wonderful smell, and it blended so nicely with the other kitchen smells.
She left the buns on the window ledge to cool. None of the boys would take one, or there would be no supper for them until Peter decided they deserved it.
When she turned back to check the buns, however, she received a very nasty shock. Fifteen perfectly round little buns greeted her, still warm. At the edge of their little group was a bare sport, empty except for a few crumbs and a memory of warmth. She always baked sixteen light gold buns, with little cross patterns on the top. The normally cheery patterns now seemed to glare at her suspiciously. Someone had pilfered her baking. It must be one of the younger boys, who didn't yet understand the difference between right and wrong, she reasoned. As his mother, it would be her responsibility to help him understand. She would see to it as soon as she was done baking.
When the cute little oven was cooling and her apron was hung, Wendy chanced to glance back at the window sill. Amongst the loaves and tarts, cakes and pies, fourteen little crosses smiled cheerily at her. This would never do. Straightening her curly brown hair as best she could, she hurried out of the kitchen to find Peter.