Pippa Opens the Wrong Box — At the packing table, Pippa pressed labels onto chocolate boxes while the room smelled of cocoa dust and warm paper. Read the full story →
At the packing table, Pippa pressed labels onto chocolate boxes while the room smelled of cocoa dust and warm paper. One box sat crooked, its red ribbon twitching like a cat’s tail. Pippa had promised herself she would ask one new question before lunch, so she leaned close and whispered, “Are you supposed to wiggle?”
The bow gave a polite flop. Inside, twenty truffles rustled in their frilly cups: striped ones, dotted ones, square ones, and swirly ones. Pippa lifted the lid a finger-width. A tiny sugar inspector in a foil cap popped up between a nut-topped round and a plaid square. “Shh,” he said. “I’m checking for boring chocolates.” He tapped a clipboard no bigger than a sprinkle.
Pippa felt her cheeks go hot, but she did not shut the lid. “Then this one fails,” she said, pointing to a plain round. The inspector gasped, drew a chocolate mustache on it, and stamped APPROVED with a raisin. By lunch, every label said Fancy Assortment, Mischief Included. If you peek at the crooked ribbon, you might spot the box that first dared Pippa to ask, “Are you supposed to wiggle?”
