The Cake and Bake Day of an Impy Kid

1pm. I can’t believe it! I’m here, going in for the Cake and Bake Competition. Mum put my name on the form: IMPY KID. “Why?” I asked.

“One: you like baking,” she said. “Two: it’s all about story characters -”

“- and we want an Imp to win!” Granny Imp shouted.

Mum slipped something over my head. Oh no! It’s the little apron she got me when I was five. “Good luck!”

1.15 pm. We’re in the Big Kitchen, surrounded by tins and cooking things. There’s a big table covered in a bright cloth, ready for our cakes. Looking round, I’m even more worried. These guys are a bit unusual. There’s a girl called Alice, a bulgy Bear, a crafty-looking Pirate, a dim Troll, a Hobbit with hairy feet, a very small Caterpillar – and me.

A White Rabbit appears, checking his pocket-watch. “I hope they’re not late,” he says.

1.20pm. In come the Judges. The Fairy Godmother’s smiling but  – uh-oh! – the Sorcerer is staring hard at everyone. Glad I washed my hands already. Troll slopes off to the sink.

“This Competition,” says the Fairy Godmother, “is about making your best cake ever!”

The Sorcerer points a finger at us. “Your cake has to look good,” he says, “and to taste really good too. Understand?” We nod.

1.30pm. “Are you ready?” asks the Rabbit. Oh no! I’m sure I left my notes back at Imp Cottage . . . …”

It’s time to bake!” he shouts.

1.40pm. Phew! I find my notes in the pocket of my apron. Well done, Mum! After a while I peer around. The Bear’s got a big jar of honey and he’s eaten a spoonful already. The Pirate’s got something tucked into his waistcoat and something’s moving about in Alice’s pocket. Seems like everyone has a secret plan but me.Oh phooey!

2.00pm. So glad I‘d practised. Everyone’s been working like crazy and now the ovens are on. I’m pouring my mix into my cake-tins. Dare I tell the Pirate he hasn’t greased his cake tin? Phew, he’s just remembered. The Troll’s cake looks really weird!

2.15pm. Everything smells SO delicious! We’re all decorating now. Alice’s using a heart-shaped cutter. No wonder she looks so smug!

2. 45pm. Uh oh! The Sorcerer is standing beside me.

“Tell me about your cake, Impy.”

I gulp. What can I say? “It’s my Lucky Imp cake and it has a Secret Ingredient.” He goes over and lurks by the Hobbit who’s making something out of yellow marzipan. Uh-oh! Is that my cake burning?

2.30pm. Phew, I saved it! The Caterpillar’s only made one cake. He’s been eating raisins and cherries and now he’s crawled on the top of his cake and turned into a cocoon. Yuk! How dull!

3.30pm. I’m trying not to squirt icing everywhere. The Rabbit looks at his watch. “Ten minutes to go” he says.Help! I think, working away

“And stop!” calls the Rabbit.

4.00pm. One by one, the cakes are taken up to the covered table. Who will win?

The Bear with his Honey Cake? It has acorns around the edge and a smiley pig face on the top. The Pirate’s cake is like a small Treasure Chest, full of gold coins and glittering jelly beans. The Troll’s Mud Puddle cake smells really chocolate-y but unfortunately he’s stomped a footprint in the top.

Alice’s Wonderland cake is decorated with tiny hearts and, curled up in a pretty cup on top lies a little dormouse. So that’s what was in her pocket! And the Hobbit’s magnificent Mountain Cake has a
marzipan Dragon with gold-painted wings. What clever clogs they are!

Well, at least, the Caterpillar’s cake is just a boring cocoon. Wait! There’s a creaking sound as it begins to hatch and now there’s a butterfly on the top, fluttering its wings. Wow!

It’s my turn now. I go up and am just placing my Lucky Cake up to the table when suddenly I hear a RATHER ROARY SNORE. It’s not the Troll this time. Imps are always nosy so I peep under the tablecloth.

“Yikes! There’s an enormous Tiger under there, fast asleep.” I gasp.

“Well spotted, Impy” says the Fairy Godmother.

“Let’s not wake him,” suggests the Rabbit. Is that Rabbit stupid?

“Harumph! He didn’t even make a cake,” complains the Sorcerer.

“No dear, but let’s not worry about that,” whispers the Fairy Godmother, lifting up her long skirt and turning towards the door. “I expect this Tiger’s only come for tea, but even so, best be safe . . .” And we all tiptoe out of that kitchen as fast as we can, feeling very lucky indeed.

Unfortunately, all the cakes were left behind, so you’ll just have to guess what my Lucky Cake looked like. Or maybe make your own for the Cake and Bake show?

A Boy Called Mouse by Penny Dolan is published by Bloomsbury Children’s Books