Bite-Sized Magic by Kathryn Littlewood Page B

to jiggle like a vast grayish-white sea of Jell-O.
    Then the view changed to a camera mounted under the ship. As the craft flew close to the surface, something extended from its belly—a massive robotic arm with a scoop on the end as big as a school bus. It plunged beneath the surface and pulled up a wedge of thick white cheese.
    â€œYou see, Rosemary Bliss,” said Mr. Butter, “there’s plenty of Moon’s Cheese to be had—more than enough to feed every person in the nation one of your marvelous Moony Pyes.”
    â€œGreat,” Rose said, feeling sick to her stomach. “That’s just great.”
    â€œMarvelous,” Gus muttered under his breath, dripping with sarcasm.
    â€œYes,” said Mr. Kerr, unaware that it was the cat, not Rose, who had spoken. “It is marvelous.”
    â€œBut that was old footage from our last cheese run. Where are we now with the current launch, Mechanico?” asked Mr. Butter.
    â€œAll systems go,” answered Mr. Mechanico, and he reached down to the control board and pulled a green lever.
    At first, nothing seemed to happen.
    Then, on the enormous video screen, Rose saw the cake-shaped building from the outside. From its top, swirls of white smoke curled into the air. “What’s that?” she asked.
    â€œA launch pad,” Mr. Butter replied.
    â€œFor what?” Rose asked.
    Mr. Butter eyed Rose with faint disdain. “For the rocket ship. Which we are now launching. Which will go to the moon. And fetch us more cheese.” His broad, thin smile reappeared. “Easy. As. Pie.”
    Rose clutched Gus in her arms. The mason jars began to rattle on the shelves, and there was a whirlwind of noise. The smoke on the screen thickened, and the rattling grew fiercer and fiercer and then—
    All of a sudden, it stopped.
    For a moment, Rose thought she could make out a tiny rocket ship soaring into the dark-blue sky on the video screen, but she wasn’t completely sure.
    â€œThere it goes,” said Mr. Butter with an elated sigh. He pinched his own cheeks and smacked his nonexistent lips together. “We should be all cheesed up in two weeks or so.”
    Rose’s heart sank. With her help, there’d be no stopping the unholy alliance of the Mostess Snack Corporation and the International Society of the Rolling Pin.
    â€œCome along, Rose,” said Mr. Butter. “That’s not even the main attraction. There’s still more!”
    â€œMore?” Rose repeated weakly. “Isn’t that enough?”
    Mr. Butter wagged a stick-thin finger. “There’s something else I need to show you. Something very important.” He folded himself back into the front seat of the golf cart, then scowled. “Don’t look so down in the mouth! We’ll have your Moony Pyes out there in the world lickety-split!”
    That’s what I’m afraid of, Rose thought to herself. But she got into the back of the cart without another word.
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    It wasn’t even noon yet, but Rose could see heat waves piping up from the road as Mr. Kerr pulled up in front of another building. This one was in the shape of a giant pastry bag, plumped up at the bottom but narrowing to a fluted glass tip at the very top.
    â€œYou’re going to like this one, Rose,” said Mr. Butter as Mr. Kerr parked outside the towering glass doors.
    â€œIf you say so,” Rose muttered, following Mr. Butter and Mr. Kerr through the building’s grand lobby. In place of flower arrangements, there were bouquets of candies and cookies. “This looks almost like a hotel,” she said.
    â€œThat’s because it is a hotel,” said Mr. Kerr.
    â€œAnd people say children aren’t observant!” said Mr. Butter.
    â€œA hotel for who?” Rose asked. “The families of the bakers?”
    â€œCertainly not,” said Mr. Butter. “This is a hotel for guests to the compound.”
    They boarded a