dramatispersonae

[The room itself is simple. A small table made out of crackers (chairs as well) and an empty pitcher with empty glasses. There are windows, a small light fixture above to illuminate the room, and the walls themselves are gingerbread. You can then hear the Baker's voice vibrating in the room. A low, quiet voice, old and tired, straining to get words across.]

I remembered something though I'm not sure what I've remembered. Whose story is this? I've forgotten a lot of things, but if I was able to remember this, surely it's important . . . :

There once was a baker who spent all of her days baking bread. It was neither good nor bad, but it would fill the stomachs of those who were hungry. She, herself, was a poor woman and earned very little. Of course, you cannot earn very much when you give almost everything away. However, she remembers being hungry, and she did not wish the same fate on anyone else.

Two little children in particular were fond of visiting the bakery . . .

[There's a pause and you can hear a soft "oh!" before the Baker speaks up again.]

I was in the middle of providing for all of you, weren't I? Provide, provide . . . ah yes, let me give you all a menu.

[And then a menu poofs onto the table with a puff of smoke. If you cannot read it for whatever reason, you can hear a voice reading you the menu as you need it.]