The lunch bell rang. It was well past time to take out her gingerbread.
"Oh, by golly!" she shouted to no one in particular. The bakery's cat, Bop, peeped his head out from behind a cozy blanket.
Oven mitts thrown on once more, the baker pulled the tray out of the oven. She had her eyes tightly shut, worried that her gingerbread was overcooked.
The now-alive gingerbread man, realizing that the woman could not see him for a moment, peered out from his crouching position behind the cookie tray. He squealed.
Leaping from his perch and whizzing past the baker's head, he sang out: "Run, run, run…"
The baker had her eyes sealed shut in preparation for a ruined sheet of cookies. As she opened them to gaze upon her perfect golden-brown desserts, she saw a flash of spice to her left.
"… As fast as you can…" the baker heard a tiny little voice continue.
Oven mitts thrown on once more, the baker pulled the tray out of the oven. She had her eyes tightly shut, worried that her gingerbread was overcooked.