th the lazy
Bonbons, who never work and are all for show. They won't own us, though
we are all related through our grandparents Sugar and Molasses. We are
busy folks; so they turn up their noses and don't speak when we meet at
parties. Poor creatures, silly and sweet and unsubstantial! I pity 'em."

"Could I make you a visit? I'd like to see how you live, and what you
do. I'm sure it must be interesting," said Lily, picking herself up
after a tumble, having eaten nearly all the stone, she was so hungry.

"I know you will. Come on! I can talk while I work." And the funny
gingerbread man trotted off toward his kitchen, full of pans,
rolling-pins, and molasses jugs.

"Sit down. I shall be at leisure as soon as this batch is baked. There
are still some wise people down below who like gingerbread, and I have
my hands full," he said, dashing about, stirring, rolling out, and
slapping the brown dough into pans, which he whisked into the oven and
out again so fast that Lily knew there must be magic about it somewhere.

Every now and then he threw her a delicious cooky warm from the oven.
She liked the queer fellow, and presently began to talk, being very
curious about this country.

"What is your name, sir?"

"Ginger Snap."

Lily thought it a good one; for he was very quick, and she fancied he
could be short and sharp if he liked.

"Where does all this cake go to?" she asked, after watching the other
kitchens full of workers, who were all of different kinds of cake, and
each set of cooks made its own sort.

"I'll show you by and by," answered Snap, beginning to pile up the heaps
of gingerbread on a little car that ran along a track leading to some
unknown storeroom, Lily thought.

"Don't you get tired of doing this all the time?"

"Yes; but I want to be promoted, and I never shall be till I've done my
best, and won the prize here."

"Oh, tell me about it! What is the prize, and how are you promoted? Is
this a cooking-school?"

"Yes; the prize for best gingerbread is a cake of condensed yeast. That
puts a soul into me, and I begin to rise till I am able to go over the
hills yonder into the blessed land of bread, and be one of the happy
creatures who are always wholesome, always needed, and without which the
world below would be in a bad way."

"Bless me! that is the queerest thing I've heard yet. But I don't wonder
you want to go; I'm tired of sweets myself, and long for a good piece of
bread, though I used to