ome Children,'  said the lady, beckoning them into the bright, warm kitchen. Pots were boiling on the stove, and on every windowsill, great pans of cookies, brownies and pies were cooling. "This is the room that will be your very favorite."

"Oh, my!" gasped Little Tina, looking all around her. "This is lovelier than I ever could imagine."

"Why, thank you," said the old lady, putting on fluffy mitts as she opened the oven door and took out a tray of perfect blueberry muffins. Looking at Little Timmy, she smiled and said, "Would you like a lemon bar, little boy?"
​
At first, Little Timmy didn't say anything because he was afraid. What if it enchanted him somehow, and then he couldn't escape her?

"I would not!" he said indignantly, eyes wide and his body stiff.

Little Tina giggled.

"I have to tell you, ma'am, my big brother Little Timmy is afraid that you're a witch, and you want to fatten us up and eat us for dinner."

Little Timmy looked at his sister sharply, and the old lady threw her head back, laughing.
"For dinner? But it's after midnight. Perhaps for breakfast, but it's too late to eat you for dinner."

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