The Queer Little Baker Man

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All the children were delighted when the little Baker came to town and hung a sign above his quaint little brown shop.
“Thanksgiving sandwiches for sale.”

Each child ran to tell the others until the streets rang with the sound of running feet, the fresh November air filled with cheerful laughter as a crowd of small children crowded in as close as they could. Little Baker, while the boldest, crept so close they could feel the heat from the massive brick oven and see rows of glittering baking pans.

Little Baker never said a word. He washed his hands at the windmill’s faucet and dried them, waving in the fresh air. Then he opened a long, clean table and placed it in front of the shop, starting to shape loaves of bread while curious children came closer and closer to observe him.

He shaped large, long loaves of bread and small round loaves; small loaves filled with currants, square loaves with strange markings on them, fat loaves and flat loaves, and loaves shaped like children ever seen before, and when he made the cake, he always sang a gentle melody along the following lines:

“Buy my brown and white loaf of bread,
Molded according to the child’s interest.
Who forgets the needs of others,
Eat and drink ungratefully and greedily;
But the child broke his bread
For others, Love nourishes.”

Gradually, the children began to whisper to each other.

“I’ll buy the biggest loaf of bread,” said the Biggest Boy. “Mom, let me buy what I want. I’ll eat it alone; it’s only fair if I pay.”

“Oh,” said the Littlest Girl, “how greedy. You could never eat such a big loaf of bread alone.”

“If I pay, it’s mine,” said the Biggest Boy boastfully, “and a man needn’t share what’s his unless he wants to.”

“Oh,” the Littlest Girl said, but this time she spoke more softly, then she moved away from the Biggest Boy and looked at him with more enormous eyes.

“I have a penny,” she said to the Crippled Boy, “and you and I can eat one of those little loaves of bread together. There are grapes inside, so we won’t mind if the loaf is small.”

“No, really,” said the Crippled Boy, his face turning thoughtful as the Biggest Boy talked about the giant loaf of bread. “That’s right, but you’ll get the bigger part.”

After that, the little baker scooped the bright coals from the large oven into an iron basket, then put each loaf in while the children crowded closer with eager faces.

When the last loaf was brought in, he closed the oven door with such a cheerful clang that the children laughed.

Then the strange little baker came and stood before the door of the tent, smiling and singing a cheerful tune in the following words:

“Clang, clang, my furnace floor,
My loaf of bread will bake as usual,
And you can play where the sun shines
Until each loaf is golden brown.”

Then the children ran away, laughing and looking toward the shop where Queer Little Baker stood, where the coals were shoveled out and, from time to time, flared up, casting long red rays of light on the brown wall and as they ran, they sing Queer Little Baker’s cheerful song:

“Clang, clang, my furnace floor,
The loaf will be baked as usual.”

Then some played hide and seek among the sheaves of unharvested corn, and some happily ran through the piled red-brown and yellow leaves for joy at hearing them rustle. But some, eager, had returned home to earn pennies to buy a loaf of bread when Queer Little Baker called.

“The cake is done, white and brown,
For every little child in town,
Come buy a Thanksgiving loaf and eat it,
But only Love can make them sweet.”

Soon the air was filled with the sound of running footsteps as the children flew like clouds of wind-blown leaves in response to Queer Little Baker’s call. When they arrived at his shop, they stopped, laughed, and whispered while Little Baker laid out the loaves of bread on the clean table.

“This is mine,” said the Biggest Boy, and putting down a silver coin, he grabbed a large loaf of bread and ran to break it himself.

Then the impatient boy cried: “Give me a loaf of bread. This is mine, and give it to me now. Don’t you see my coin is silver? Don’t keep me waiting too long.”

Little Baker never said a word. He didn’t smile, didn’t frown, and wasn’t in a hurry. He gave the loaf of bread to the impatient boy and watched as the boy hurriedly went to eat the loaf of bread alone.

Then the others came, shuddering, jostling for their money; the strongest and rudest got the first place, snatched each loaf of bread, and ran off to eat without a word of thanks, while some of The children looked on wistfully, unable to even win a single cake. Location. All this time, Queer Little Baker has persistently presented beautiful loaves of bread on a clean table.

The Smallest Girl held hands with the Crippled Boy to share her little loaf of bread, and they both smiled, and whoever broke one of the smallest loaves found it more prominent than before.
But now, the eldest boy began to frown.

“This bread is so sour,” he growled.

“But isn’t that your loaf of bread,” said the baker, “and didn’t you choose it yourself and choose to eat it alone? Don’t complain about the loaf of bread because it’s your choice.”

Then the people who ungratefully grabbed the loaf and quickly left, without waiting for a word of thanks, returned.

“We came to get good bread,” they cried, “but these loaves are too wet and heavy.”

“Look at that boy there with all those kids. His bread is light. Give us light and sweet bread, too.”

But the baker showed a strange smile. “You chose hastily,” he said, “as people choose who are thoughtless in sharing. I can’t change your loaf of bread. I can’t choose for you. Are you buying and forgetting that my bread is a Thanksgiving loaf? I will come back; then, you can buy more wisely.”

Then, these children thoughtfully left.

But the little children and the Gentle Boy sat and ate the bread with joyful laughter, each little loaf breaking into many pieces as they shared them among themselves, and to them, the bread was as delicious as cake and sweet as honey.

Queer Little Baker then brought cold water and put out the fire. He folded up his spotless table, took down the boards of his little brown shop, loaded it all into his car, and drove along singing an old-fashioned tune. The gentle breeze rustled the corn plants and swept the branches together, creating musical giggles. And where the thickest brown leaves formed a little mound, the Littlest Girl and the Lame Boy sat together, happily eating a sweet loaf of grapes.