Dad's Purple Surprise Wagon
The school bell rang, and Rosy burst out through the gate with her backpack bouncing. There stood Dad, grinning like a boy who had swallowed a secret. "Rosy," he said, "I have a surprise, and it is very, very big."
Rosy squinted at his hands. Empty. She checked his pockets. Only a button. "Is it bigger than a dog?" she asked. "Bigger," said Dad. "Bigger than a bus?" "Hmm. Smaller. Follow me."
Around the corner waited a shiny purple wagon, heaped with yellow cushions. Purple was Rosy's favorite, so she gasped. Dad pulled it along while Rosy sat like a queen, until they reached a farm with rows of round blueberry bushes.
"Pick all you like," said Dad. Rosy plucked berries into a bucket, and one, two, then six popped into her mouth. Her tongue turned a very silly blue. Dad pointed at it and laughed so hard he let go of the wagon handle.
The wagon began to roll down the row, faster and faster, with the bucket of berries sitting inside it. "My blueberries!" cried Dad. Rosy ran beside it, and the wheels went wobbling toward the hill.
Rosy leaped into the wagon and landed on the yellow cushions with a bounce. The wheels hummed over the grass as she held the sides. "Wheee, I am steering with my toes!" she shouted.
The wagon coasted to a stop by a daisy bank, and Rosy tumbled out giggling. Dad arrived puffing, holding his side. "Nice ride," he wheezed, "but you forgot to say goodbye to me."
At the top stood a little house with a chimney puffing and a smell that made Rosy's nose wiggle. A woman in a tall white hat waved from the door. "You must be Rosy," she said. "Your dad called ahead!"
Inside was the biggest kitchen Rosy had ever seen, with a table as long as a canoe. "This is the surprise," said Dad. "We are baking a blueberry cake, and you are the head baker."
The Baker Lady tied an apron on Rosy that nearly touched her shoes. Rosy tipped in the flour, cracked an egg without any shell, and poured in every blueberry from the bucket. Dad cheered at each step.
Then the Baker Lady rolled out a bowl of batter so big that Rosy could have floated in it like a boat. "One more thing," she said, and lifted a cloth from a tray. Underneath sat a tiny purple cake just for Rosy.
"It needs one last thing," said Dad, and he and the Baker Lady looked at Rosy. The giant bowl wobbled. A spoon as tall as Rosy leaned against it, and a clean page and a purple crayon sat on the table too.
Rosy picked up the purple crayon and drew the whole day: the wagon, the berries, Dad with a blue tongue. The Baker Lady clapped. "Let's bake it exactly like your picture!"
They baked a cake shaped like a purple wagon, with blueberry wheels and cushions of yellow icing. Dad pretended to drive it across the table. Rosy was the only one allowed to take the first slice.
Rosy sat with the little purple cake and her drawing, with blue on her chin and Dad's arm around her. She wondered whether the cake wagon could really roll away on its blueberry wheels.
