Once upon a time, in a royal castle as tall as a giant’s hat, there lived a kind girl named Emily. The castle halls echoed with the clip-clop of tiny footsteps—Emily’s—and the squeak-squeak of her favorite stuffed bunny, Mr. Fluffernut. The air smelled like warm cinnamon cookies fresh from the oven, and the stone floors felt cool and smooth under her bare feet, like walking on a river of ice cream.

One morning, the castle was in a tizzy. Toys lay scattered everywhere—wooden blocks piled high like a wobbly tower, dolls lounging on the stairs as if they were sunbathing, and toy horses galloping in every direction. The royal nanny, a round woman with a voice like a chirpy bird, sighed. "Oh dear, oh dear!" she clucked, her hands fluttering like nervous butterflies. "The Queen’s tea party is today, and the castle must be spotless!"

Emily’s eyes sparkled. She loved helping! But where to start? The toys seemed to multiply like magic. Just then, Mr. Fluffernut tumbled from her arms and landed in a puddle of sticky jam (left over from breakfast). Splat! His fur was now glued to a toy teacup. "Oh no!" Emily giggled, peeling him off carefully. "You’re a jam sandwich bunny now!"

She rolled up her sleeves—soft as butterfly wings—and got to work. First, the wooden blocks. She stacked them one by one, her tongue poking out in concentration. Clink! Clank! Clunk! The tower wobbled, then—CRASH!—it toppled onto a pile of stuffed animals. The animals let out a muffled "Oof!" as if they’d been squished by a cloud. Emily gasped, then dissolved into giggles. "Oopsie-doodle!"

Next, the dolls. She gathered them up, their dresses swishing like autumn leaves. One doll, with hair as wild as a bird’s nest, kept slipping from her arms. "Hold still, Madame Curls!" Emily laughed, tucking the doll under her arm like a football. The doll’s porcelain head bonked against a chair. Tink! "Sorry!" Emily whispered, kissing the doll’s forehead. The doll smelled like lavender and sunshine.

Finally, the toy horses. They were the trickiest! They clip-clopped away every time she reached for them, their hooves clicking like tiny drums. Emily chased one—"Giddy-up, slowpoke!"—and tripped over a rogue yo-yo. Boing! She landed in a pile of plush pillows, soft as a marshmallow cloud. The horse trotted over and nudged her nose with its velvety muzzle. "You’re not so bad," Emily whispered, scratching its mane.

Just as she placed the last horse in the toy chest, the royal nanny bustled in. "Oh my stars!" she gasped, her eyes wide as saucers. "The castle is… tidy!" The air smelled like lemon polish and victory. The nanny hugged Emily so tight she could smell the vanilla in her perfume. "You’re a true royal helper!"

That afternoon, the Queen herself visited the playroom. She wore a dress that shimmered like a rainbow and smelled like fresh-baked pie. "Who is this clever girl?" she asked, her voice as warm as honey. Emily curtsied, her cheeks pink as strawberry jam. The Queen smiled and placed a tiny golden crown on her head. "For kindness," she said, "is the bravest magic of all."

As the sun set, painting the castle walls in shades of peach and gold, Emily snuggled with Mr. Fluffernut (now jam-free). The toys were all tucked in, the castle was quiet, and her heart felt as light as a feather. And if you listen very closely on a quiet night, you might still hear the clip-clop of tiny footsteps and the giggle-giggle of a girl who turned a messy day into a royal adventure.