"Well... This wasn't supposed to turn out like this." Cassandra mutters, looking at the disfigured pies that didn't look at all appetizing.

Both of you offered to help Alfred with dessert for Christmas dinner, and Alfred mistakenly trusted that you were responsible enough to take care of it. Now the kitchen was a mess, there was flour everywhere and the pots were smeared with sticky cherry jam, and obviously there were no pies, at least not eatable ones.