XI 



The Mills Become Towns 



IN THE dull little princely town of Hesse, Christopher 

 Ludwick held the post of court baker. His pudgy fingers 

 mixed and kneaded dough for the rolls which the Prince 

 nibbled each morning with his chocolate. He iced the ten- 

 tiered cakes for the royal weddings. Using a secret recipe of 

 his own, he made the gilded gingerbread angels which hung 

 on the little princesses' Christmas trees. The Princess, who 

 was herself the daughter of the King of England, regularly 

 praised the excellence of his almond paste. 



A happy man, Christopher Ludwick, but for one thing. 



That was his son, another Christopher. The baker fre- 

 quently sighed and shook his head over him. It wasn't as if 

 the lad were a dummkopf. Ach, neinJ Any man would know 

 what to do with one of those; put him into the army, and let 

 the Prince pay for his blunders. No, Christopher was bright 

 and enterprising enough to be a baker. But he wouldn't be a 

 baker. That was the trouble. He obstinately refused to be 

 taught the secrets of the kitchen and the ovens. He was not 

 even interested in the famous Ludwick gingerbread, the recipe 

 for which his father promised to impart to him the very 

 day he completed his apprenticeship. 



Instead, Christopher declared that he wanted to see the 

 world. To travel, as though he were a gentleman. He was 

 itching with curiosity about other countries as though Hesse 

 were not sufficient for any reasonable man. He said he wanted 

 to see queer, outlandish places like China and Africa and the 

 English colonies in America. 



If the Prince had kept a navy, his court baker would have 



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