An Occurrence in Pumpkin Falls
If there was ever a day for pumpkin pie, this was it. I approached the wooden counter of my small, sunny kitchen and removed the glass case that protected the delicious treat and cut a slice for Mrs. Mayapple and myself. The pie shone like copper on the plate. I snatched a couple of forks and swept back across the room. Mrs. Mayapple had been assigned to be my chaperone ever since I was born.
When I was old enough to question it, my mother’s answer was, “How else are we supposed to guarantee that you stay pure?”
My father’s rumbling laugh followed. “That’s right. You know we can’t be with you every minute of every day.”