>>197
Though she is only a metre or two from you, you feel the need to shout your odd dismissal in her face. She flinches and runs away, bread hanging from her mouth like the epitomic schoolgirl late for her first day of school. You watch her go, heart swelling with pride. What a fine, upstanding young lady you've brought her up to be, you think to yourself.
>>198
Mere moments later, you feel yourself struck by the infamous empty nest syndrome. You simply don't know what to do with yourself, now that she's gone. And shouldn't you have prepared her better? I mean, you've got all this food, and you only offered her one measly loaf of bread. Also, what about those suspicious gentlemen she's been keeping company with?
Utterly distraught, head spinning in disarray, you leave several trails of breadcrumbs up to the building where you last saw the girl. Before you know it, you have used up all of the bread you had found. You sit at the doorstep, simply saying the word "Jack" to yourself, over and over again. The sun passes its zenith overhead and begins its slow, inevitable descent. Cumuliform clouds accumulate on the horizon. Still, there is no sign of your precious daughter.
>>199
Then, a familiar face appears before you. The red bird from earlier alights nearby and begins nonchalantly to peck at your breadcrumb trail. "Slippery Jack!" you say to it. It stares at you, long and hard, head cocked slightly to one side, then flies away again to the South. You soon lose sight of it.
Perhaps ten minutes later, you become aware of another presence nearby. Levitating a metre or so from the ground is a young girl dressed in an immaculate, ornate lilac dress. She is carrying a frilled off-white parasol in one hand, and a purple handbag in the other. The red bird is perched on her shoulder. She is watching you, smiling a little too wide.
"Pah!" she exclaims in mock annoyance, rolling her eyes, "You're not Jack at all! Silly bird, why did you go and get my hopes up?" The bird bobs its head apologetically. She floats down to land a metre or so from you, and carefully inspects you and the possessions by your side. "My my, have you been taking things that aren't yours? Why, I was looking forward to a nice bit of sausage for my supper, and you went and stole it all! I almost think you ought to be punished for that."