In the town of Almond, mornings smelled like the sun was rising with sprinkles. It was all because of Mrs Almond's bakery. The shop had a signboard in the shape of a croissant, and in a display case doughnuts sat on the shelves like moons in sugar furs. Zosia was six years old, her hair tied up with a rubber band the colour of lemon ice cream and a striped cat called Rhubarb. Rhubarb was a studious cat: he could open the sock drawer and knew exactly where the best crisps were kept. Unfortunately, he couldn't write, so he did his most important business by purring. On this day, Zosia rushed into the bakery, followed by Rabarbar. The bell above the door chimed like a spoon against a glass of tea. - Good morning, Mrs Almond! - called out Zosia. - Are there croissants with jam? - Of course there are,' replied Mrs Almond, correcting her pea cap. - 'Actually... there were. I took out two trays a while ago. One is standing here, but where is the other.... Mrs Almond looked at the empty table. Only a trail of icing sugar was left on it, like a white path drawn with a finger. - After all, I'm eating... - she started, then leaned back and sneezed: - A-psiu! - as the icing sugar turned her nose up. Zosia looked at the floor. The white path did not end at the table. It led across the tabletop, flowed down the chair, made a hop across the rug and led straight to the door. Rhubarb snorted through his nose until his moustache danced. - Mrrau? - he said, which meant: "This smells like an adventure". - Mrs Almond, can we... - Zosia pointed to the footsteps. - Just to see where it goes? - Go, go, golden children! - sighed Mrs Almond. - Just be careful not to slip. And lead the croissants home, please. Zosia swung the door open and the bell rang more than usual, as if it wanted to go too. A trail of icing sugar ran down Piegowa Street, past the measuring and button shop, to the corner where Mr Carrot lived, who called the tomatoes to the balcony. There the path twisted and made two tiny circles, just as if a croissant had danced a pirouette. - 'Someone is leading them,' whispered Zosia. - Or they know themselves where to go. - 'Mrrauu,' murmured Rabarbar, which meant: "Or maybe they're just running off to have their second breakfast." Underneath the primary school, the footsteps did a 'hop-hop' across the paving tiles, as if they were playing in class. Mrs Janitor was sweeping the leaves, and when she saw the white footprint, she raised an eyebrow. - Oh, snow in August? - she joked. - Let me know if you see a snowman made of icing. Zosia laughed and waved. Rhubarb carefully placed his paws, every now and then shaking off his fur from the white. He looked as if someone had sprinkled stardust on his back. When he sneezed, a small cloud of sugar flew from his nose. Sneeze! Rhubarb looked at it with such astonishment as if he had just sprinkled glitter on himself. The footsteps continued on to the Chlapu-Chlap park. Here one could always hear the splashing of Bulbulk's fountain, which splashed water high as if it wanted to reach the clouds. On the way, Zosia noticed a funny detail: every few steps the path got wider, as if someone had imprinted not only croissant steps but also licks. Next to it lay an abandoned fork with a green handle. - Hm - said Zosia, wrinkling her nose. - The fork doesn't match the croissant run. - Mrr - muttered Rabarbar. - The fork does fit the croissant run. In the playground, the swing creaked on its own, even though no one was sitting on it. A trail of icing sugar led underneath it, then under the ladder, did a lap around the merry-go-round and finally stopped by the checkered bench. Or rather, not so much by the bench as by the box that stood under the bench. The box was checkered red and white, like a tablecloth at a picnic. On its age someone had stuck a sticker: "Please do NOT turn upside down". Of course it stood upside down. On one side you could see a tiny hole, and from the hole came a sound: crunch... crunch... crunch. - Can you hear it? - Zosia leaned over and her ponytail fell on her forehead. - Someone is crunching. Rhubarb lay down on his belly and stuck his moustache in the hole. The sound was immediately silenced. Then a quiet "clack" sounded, and the cat jumped up as someone licked its whiskers in the gentlest way in the world. - Mrrau! - he became indignant. This meant roughly: "Please don't lick my moustache without an invitation!". Suddenly, a long stick slipped out of the bushes on the right. A hand in a gardening glove appeared behind the stick, and behind the hand was Mr Dudek, the gardener. He had a brow like a green chive sticking out of his cap. - Oh, children! - he smiled. - Are you looking for something? Because if you've lost your dumpling, I saw it under the swing this morning. Although now I think it was a pebble shaped like a dumpling. - No, thank you - replied Zosia politely. - We have a croissant issue. - Ah, croissants! - Mr Dudek blinked. - Today the Bulbulek fountain is bubbling with something sweeter than usual. Maybe it's raspberry syrup, or maybe the mosquito had a birthday and got a cake. Zosia looked at the box again. Crunch... crunch... And then a thud, as if something inside had jumped up and clattered against the cardboard. A trail of icing sugar ended here with a perfect dot. Rhubarb put his paw on the lid and the box moved slightly. - Maybe it's the croissants that have gone into hiding because... - Zosia lowered her voice. - Because they don't want them to be eaten? - Or someone is having a picnic under the bench - suggested Mr Dudek. - In any case, the box is not held upside down. This irritates the sandwiches a lot. Sandwiches like to have the horizon in order. - I'll knock it over,' decided Zosia, crouching down. - But gently. She grabbed the box by the sides. Rhubarb sat down next to it and puffed up his tail like a plume. Mr Hoopoe leaned in curiously, and the Bulbulek fountain just made a "Plum!" as loud as if it wanted to clap. Zosia turned the box right side up and laid it slowly on the ground. Inside again something rustled. Then they heard a very quiet: "You-tam... you-tam...", like little footsteps on paper. - Hello? - Zosia asked. - 'Is there someone polite living in the box? Because if so, we can talk. - 'Mrr,' added Rabarbar, meaning: "And please give back my moustache". Zosia lifted the lid with one finger. Someone from inside suddenly answered with a vigorous "crunch!", and then - oh my! - a scent of warm butter and raspberries wafted out of the box, so thick that Rabarbar rolled over onto his back in delight. The box vibrated so that the lid lifted a little more. A piece of jam shimmered like a ruby. - Ready? - whispered Zosia, sending Rabarbar a look of discovery. The cat nodded gravely, like a professor of cat crunches. At the same moment, something from under the box knocked three times: knock, knock, PUK! The bench trembled. The fountain emitted a prolonged "Bul-bul-bul-buuul...", as if it had also held its breath. Zosia slipped her fingers under the lid and started to lift it, when suddenly a shout rang out on the other side of the park: - Hey! Someone has seen my... The voice broke off as something shiny, round and very, very corny slid out of the box....