Page 142 of Tasty Cherry

A band of kids with baskets filled to the brim walk out, and I smile and wave as they go.

One small girl in her father’s arms is crying. “I didn’t get any!” she sobs.

“Let me see your basket,” I say. It’s empty. I pour a good dozen eggs into it. “All better!”

She reaches a hand into them. “Look at all my eggs!” She holds a pink one up to show her father.

The mom mouths, “Thank you.”

When everyone has passed, I still have a decent amount of eggs in my basket.

Sebastian walks over. “I used all mine.”

“That’s good. I have more for the next round.”

“Such a brilliant idea. Nobody goes home sad.”

I take his basket. “Exactly.”

I dump my leftovers into the baskets I’ve prepared for the older kids. There will be fewer tears in that group, but I will still try to even out the distribution.

A happy cry goes up from the group. I turn to see what is happening, and spot Maverick leading Tinsel and her foal through the crowd.

People stop to pet them both.

“Did you know he was going to do that?” I ask Sebastian.

He shakes his head. “Maverick is full of surprises.”

Maverick kneels down to tell the kids about the special donkeys from Avalonia. “Tell her a joke,” he says to a kid near him.

The boy is shy, but the one next to him says, “What kind of jokes make a baby chick laugh? Practical yolks!”

Maverick lets out a deep, loud laugh. Within seconds, Tinsel is laughing with him in a high-pitched hee hee haw haw haw.

The baby looks up at Tinsel and adds her tiny hee hee haw haw.

“Do all donkeys sound like that?” I ask Sebastian.

“Nope. Havannah brought these from Avalonia. It’s their special breed.”

“Adorable.”

The older kid hunt goes as smoothly. We get lucky that Brooklyn’s ball has scheduled the fashion show for costumes at the same time as our adult event, so we don’t have to contend with children trying to break into the hunt meant for grown-ups.

Then I’m done. I help break down the gates and give away all the balloons. I spot Sebastian in the lobby as I catch the tail end of Brooklyn’s ball. An adorable girl is crowned the spring princess, and she waves like royalty from the stage.

Owen comes up beside me. “I think we may have left a lot of crayon marks on the floor of the western ballroom.”

I laugh. “Housekeeping is going to hate us.”

“Not as much as they would have if I had bought glitter.”

“Good call.”

Brooklyn hugs the princess and the music swells as tired kids and parents file out of the ballroom to the parking lot.

Owen and I keep to the wall to let them pass.

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