What wasn’t there to love?

The smell of frosting, fresh bread, pound cake, sweet goods to hand out. The feeling of the soft dough beneath her palms as she kneaded it, her blueish-green eyes sparkling as she pushed her body weight into properly preparing the dough for the oven. Other servants bustled about behind her, fussing over meals and other reasons that required them in the castle’s large kitchen. Her long bangs fell over her eyes, the rest of her hair having been lazily pulled back into a ponytail as she worked.

The serene scene reminded her of a fond memory, from when she was a little girl. She remembered standing beside her mother, brothers, sisters, and cousins as they all tried to recreate her mother’s hand movements on their own small roll of dough. The feeling of flour caked onto her hands and beneath her fingernails had become a feeling she was accustomed to. Small hums of an unfamiliar tune escaped her throat as she occasionally looked up from the dough, admiring her surroundings.

Her eyes landed on one of the newer servants, her eyes landing on their hand movements, which they seemed to struggle with. Picking up her wooden board, with her belongings, she slapped them down next to the other servant. “Hallo!” She greeted, before she continued kneading the bread, hoping the servant would attempt to recreate her hand motions on their own roll of dough. The brunette smiled to herself at the thought, helping out another person with something they struggled with.

As the brunette found herself lost in thought, she saw the hands beside her struggling. Shifting her position to behind the servant, she took ahold of their hands and started to help them. “You’ll strain your hands if you continue to knead the dough like you have been.” Milly said politely, simply. Her head rested on their shoulder as her wide palms helped them move their hands with her own, showing them the proper technique. “See? It prevents your hands from being too sore. Cool, I know!” She gushed.