In the oldest part of town stood a little old house. On the ground floor it had a little old shop. Hardly anybody noticed the shop or looked in the shop window. But sometimes people passing by were heard to say, "mmm. where does that delicious smell come from?" lt came right out of the little old shop. Old Mr. Sweeten, who owned the shop was a gingerbread baker. He had learned his trade from his father. His father had learned it from his father and this 'went back to great grandfather, and maybe even further back.
Mr. Sweeten baked his gingerbread cookies himself. He also tended the store and kept house for himself. For, delicious as his gingerbread tasted, Mr. Sweeten's business was slow. People liked to buy at the big, fancy stores, with glass everywhere and baked goods wrapped in cellophane. Mostly the neighborhood children were Mr. Sweeten's customers. Sometimes when one of them stood at his store window and had no money, Mr. Sweeten slipped him a few cookies and made the child happy.
It was near Christmas. Everyone was busy preparing for the holidays. Most of all a certain old gentleman named Santa, at the North Pole. They had been quite busy up there. The packages 'were wrapped and ready to be loaded into the sleigh. Then one of Santa's little helpers sniffed and sniffed again. "Gee," he said, "I miss something. No smell of cookies this year!"
Santa nearly fell off his chair. By golly! He had forgotten the cookies. And there was no time to bake them. It took three days just to warm up the oven. "We will have to buy them." Santa said. "But who will have the kind of cookies the children expect from me?"
"Come here, Sniffer." Santa said to the helper who had noticed that there was no cookie smell. "You take Dasher and the little sleigh and find the right Christmas cookies. Go by the smell, Sniffer." Sniffer raced down and started sniffing. He sniffed the most shiny and expensive stores. He sniffed and sniffed, but nothing smelled like the real old fashioned Christmas cookies.
Just when he was ready to go back and report, he passed over this little old street with the little old shop where little old Mr. Sweeten was baking his gingerbread cookies.
"Mmmm, that smells like Christmas to me." Sniffer said, as he landed and slipped into the store. He took a cookie from a plate and nibbled. "The real thing." he said. That was when Mr. Sweeten noticed him.
"Don't be afraid, little boy," Mr. Sweeten said, "go ahead and eat."
But when Sniffer explained who he really was and that he wanted to buy one million and three hundred and six thousand and seventy-eight cookies, Mr. Sweeten shook his head sadly. He 'was all alone to bake, he explained. How could he manage, even if his oven was bigger than he needed?
"We will help," Sniffer promised Mr. Sweeten. Then lickety-split he hopped into his sled and vanished over the rooftops.
Old Mr. Sweeten hardly had time to rub his eyes and wonder whether he had dreamed it all, when a whole sleigh- load of little helpers poured into the store. They all went into the big kitchen in the back of the house and got busy. While Mr. Sweeten measured, they poured and mixed, they beat and pounded. Mr. Sweeten smiled all over his old face. He smiled even more when he saw the kind of cookies his little helpers were shaping. Instead of plain round cookies, they made stars with shiny icing. They made angels with pink cheeks. They made deer with sweet chocolate eyes and lambs with white sugar curls. They made shepherds with yellow icing for hair.
Mr. Sweeten could hardly remember when he'd had so much fun. As he wrapped the gingerbread treasures, the little helpers loaded the sleigh with as many as it could carry. Then they disappeared into the sky. My Sweeten was left alone again. Not quite alone, though. Santa's helpers had left the shelves and the counter full of the lovely Christmas cookies, for they had made more than they could carry.
When the town woke in the morning, everybody sniffed!
"Oh, what a wonderful Christmas smell is in the air! Where does it come from?" everyone said. The children in town were the first to follow their noses and to discover the little old house and the little old shop with the delicious gingerbread cookies for sale.
"Look," they said, "it is called "Santa's Bake Shop." For little Sniffer had 'written it across the store window in sparkling 'white letters. All that day the doorbell kept ringing at the little old store, and long before he could believe the shelves and counter were empty. Mr. Sweeten sold every last crumb of those wonderful Christmas cookies.
My Favorite Web sites
Angelfire Home Pages
Free Web Building Help
