Livelihood
I woke up early in the morning listening to the indentured servent, 11-year-old Kristen Cooke, start up the fire.
“Good morning, Pricillah,” she said.
“Good morning,” I said.
I got up and joined her and we went outside to get everything we needed for our breakfast and the new day at the bakery. We went to gather eggs, milk the cow, fetch some water from the well, gather some extra firewood, and get some flour.
When we were going back to our bakery, we saw our master, Sarah Ross, walk outside and she smiled and said, “Nice work,” because we woke up early and did everything before she even woke up.
We all went back inside to cook breakfast. We quickly made some pudding and tea and got to work.
We stirred together some cornmeal, flour, sugar, a pinch of salt, an egg, some olive oil, and some milk. We poured the batter into the Dutch Oven, put the lid on, put it into the fireplace, and scooped some coal on top. Sometime later, we took the cornbread out of the fireplace to let it cool. We also made crisps, muffins, waffles, toast, pie, and bread. We stacked them on shelves and Sarah went to the front to sell the baked goods to our customors who come.
“Okay,” said Sarah, “ Pricillah, you and Kristen keep baking goods.”
“Yes Master,” Kristen and I said.
Then we had our first customor of the day. It was a little boy that looked about 10 years old.
“Hello!” he said cheerfully, “I came by for a little breakfast.”
It was my turn to be at the counter. I said, “ Well, what would you like?”
“I just want a few slices of bread,” he said.
I handed him four slices of bread and he said, “Thank you!”
“You’re very welcome,” I said. He gave me the money and walked away.
We kept on with baking, just enjoying our day. I made apple pie by mixing together sliced apples, some sugar, a little water, a little butter, and a pinch of salt. I put the mixture into a pot and cooked it to soften the apples. I poured it into a pie crust I made earlier, and baked it in the oven. When I took it out it smelled so good.
“Mmmm,” said Kristen, sniffing the pie, “it smells good.”
We made other things like muffins, soup, and biscuts.
“Well, that’s dinner,” said Sarah.
I put a little bit of everything on each of the three wooden plates and poured some water in each of the three cups. We sat down and ate.
Some more customors came and left. I made some more cornbread and pie, biscuts, and other good things. I mixed together some pureed pumpkin, some sugar, eggs, a little molasses, cream, and pinch of some spices like cinnamon and ginger. I poured it into another pie crust and baked it. I took it out and let it cool when another customor appeared.
“Good afternoon,” she said. It was a girl about 14 years old.
“Hello,” I said.
“Do you have any pie?” she asked.
“Yes,” I said, “what sort of pie would you like?”
“Just pumpkin will do,” she said. I took the warm, fresh pumpkin pie off its shelf and cut a slice and wrapped it.
“Here you go,” I said, handing it to her.
“Thank you,” she said. She paid and went off with her pie.
Some more customors came and went. And it was finally nightime after a long day of work. Then We saw a wigmaker coming our way.
“Good evening, Sarah,” she said, “I hope I could ask you for a favor.”
“Of course,” said Sarah.
“Well,” the wigmaker began, “I have a few wigs to drop off to be baked.”
“Okay. Then I guess I’ll take these, then,” said Sarah, “Kristen, Pricillah,” she called.
We came over and took the wigs.
“Hello Miss Smith, Miss Cooke,” said the wigmaker, “had a nice day?”
“Yes, t’was pretty good,” said Kristen, wiping the counter.
“Well, have a good day,” said the wigmaker, walking away.
We took the wigs inside the bakery and made the bread dough. We mixed together some flour, buttermilk, and salt and kneaded the dough. We wrapped the wigs in the dough and put it into the oven. After sometime, we took it out and peeled the bread off and threw the leftover bread away.
We had leftovers from dinner for supper, as always.
“Well,” I said, “good night.”
“Good night,” said Kristen, yawning.
“G’night,” said Sarah.
We all sleepily walk upstairs to our bedroom. We got into bed and said a last good night.
I am so lucky, I thought, to have an apprenticship as a baker. I’ve always wanted to be the baker. And maybe someday, someday, I will.
And with that thought, I closed my eyes, and drifted of to sleep.
“Good morning, Pricillah,” she said.
“Good morning,” I said.
I got up and joined her and we went outside to get everything we needed for our breakfast and the new day at the bakery. We went to gather eggs, milk the cow, fetch some water from the well, gather some extra firewood, and get some flour.
When we were going back to our bakery, we saw our master, Sarah Ross, walk outside and she smiled and said, “Nice work,” because we woke up early and did everything before she even woke up.
We all went back inside to cook breakfast. We quickly made some pudding and tea and got to work.
We stirred together some cornmeal, flour, sugar, a pinch of salt, an egg, some olive oil, and some milk. We poured the batter into the Dutch Oven, put the lid on, put it into the fireplace, and scooped some coal on top. Sometime later, we took the cornbread out of the fireplace to let it cool. We also made crisps, muffins, waffles, toast, pie, and bread. We stacked them on shelves and Sarah went to the front to sell the baked goods to our customors who come.
“Okay,” said Sarah, “ Pricillah, you and Kristen keep baking goods.”
“Yes Master,” Kristen and I said.
Then we had our first customor of the day. It was a little boy that looked about 10 years old.
“Hello!” he said cheerfully, “I came by for a little breakfast.”
It was my turn to be at the counter. I said, “ Well, what would you like?”
“I just want a few slices of bread,” he said.
I handed him four slices of bread and he said, “Thank you!”
“You’re very welcome,” I said. He gave me the money and walked away.
We kept on with baking, just enjoying our day. I made apple pie by mixing together sliced apples, some sugar, a little water, a little butter, and a pinch of salt. I put the mixture into a pot and cooked it to soften the apples. I poured it into a pie crust I made earlier, and baked it in the oven. When I took it out it smelled so good.
“Mmmm,” said Kristen, sniffing the pie, “it smells good.”
We made other things like muffins, soup, and biscuts.
“Well, that’s dinner,” said Sarah.
I put a little bit of everything on each of the three wooden plates and poured some water in each of the three cups. We sat down and ate.
Some more customors came and left. I made some more cornbread and pie, biscuts, and other good things. I mixed together some pureed pumpkin, some sugar, eggs, a little molasses, cream, and pinch of some spices like cinnamon and ginger. I poured it into another pie crust and baked it. I took it out and let it cool when another customor appeared.
“Good afternoon,” she said. It was a girl about 14 years old.
“Hello,” I said.
“Do you have any pie?” she asked.
“Yes,” I said, “what sort of pie would you like?”
“Just pumpkin will do,” she said. I took the warm, fresh pumpkin pie off its shelf and cut a slice and wrapped it.
“Here you go,” I said, handing it to her.
“Thank you,” she said. She paid and went off with her pie.
Some more customors came and went. And it was finally nightime after a long day of work. Then We saw a wigmaker coming our way.
“Good evening, Sarah,” she said, “I hope I could ask you for a favor.”
“Of course,” said Sarah.
“Well,” the wigmaker began, “I have a few wigs to drop off to be baked.”
“Okay. Then I guess I’ll take these, then,” said Sarah, “Kristen, Pricillah,” she called.
We came over and took the wigs.
“Hello Miss Smith, Miss Cooke,” said the wigmaker, “had a nice day?”
“Yes, t’was pretty good,” said Kristen, wiping the counter.
“Well, have a good day,” said the wigmaker, walking away.
We took the wigs inside the bakery and made the bread dough. We mixed together some flour, buttermilk, and salt and kneaded the dough. We wrapped the wigs in the dough and put it into the oven. After sometime, we took it out and peeled the bread off and threw the leftover bread away.
We had leftovers from dinner for supper, as always.
“Well,” I said, “good night.”
“Good night,” said Kristen, yawning.
“G’night,” said Sarah.
We all sleepily walk upstairs to our bedroom. We got into bed and said a last good night.
I am so lucky, I thought, to have an apprenticship as a baker. I’ve always wanted to be the baker. And maybe someday, someday, I will.
And with that thought, I closed my eyes, and drifted of to sleep.