Once upon a time, in a castle so tall its towers tickled the clouds, lived a girl named Penelope. The castle was filled with the warm smell of cinnamon buns fresh from the oven, the creak-clack of the drawbridge chains, and the soft, velvety touch of the royal carpets underfoot.

Penelope loved her castle, but most of all, she loved her best friend—a tiny, round hedgehog named Pippin. Pippin was as prickly as a pinecone but as cuddly as a basket of kittens. Every morning, he’d wiggle his nose and sniff the air. Sniff-sniff! "Ooooh, Penelope! Do you smell that?" he’d say. "It’s like honey and sunshine mixed together!" (It was just toast, but Pippin had a very big imagination.)

One day, the king and queen announced they were leaving for a faraway land. "We’ll be back before you know it," the queen said, her voice as light as a feather. But Penelope’s heart did a little flip. Her hands clutched her dress, and her toes curled inside her shiny shoes. Tap-tap-tap. She watched as the royal carriage rolled away, kicking up dust that smelled like dry leaves and adventure.

"Don’t worry," Pippin said, patting her knee with his tiny paw. "I’ll stay with you!" But oh dear—what was that? Pippin’s nose twitched, and his eyes grew wide. Sniff-sniff-SNIFF! "Penelope!" he squeaked. "I just remembered—I left my favorite acorn in the garden! The one that’s shiny like a gold coin! I must go get it!" And before Penelope could say a word, Pippin waddled off as fast as his little legs could carry him, leaving behind a trail of tiny, muddy paw prints.

Penelope stood alone in the grand hallway. The castle suddenly felt as big as a mountain. The walls echoed with the drip-drop of a leaky faucet, and the air smelled like old books and loneliness. She plopped onto the floor, her dress puffing up around her like a cloud. Sniffle. A tear rolled down her cheek—plop!—right onto her shoe.

Just then, she heard a sound. Tick-tock-tick-tock. It was the castle’s giant clock, its hands moving as slow as a sleepy snail. Penelope wiped her eyes and stood up. "Maybe… maybe I can wait," she whispered. She tiptoed to the kitchen, where the cook was kneading dough that felt as squishy as a marshmallow. "Can I help?" she asked. The cook smiled and handed her a rolling pin. Roll-roll-roll. The dough stretched and stretched, filling the air with the smell of warm bread.

Next, Penelope visited the garden. The roses smelled as sweet as candy, and the bees buzzed a happy tune. Bzzz-bzzz! She picked a flower and tucked it behind her ear. Then she spotted something—glint-glint!—a shiny acorn! Pippin’s acorn! She giggled and tucked it into her pocket.

Back inside, Penelope found a book. The pages felt as thin as butterfly wings, and the words inside were as magical as a spell. Flip-flip-flip. She read aloud, her voice filling the quiet castle. Soon, her eyelids grew heavy, and she curled up on a cushion as soft as a kitten’s belly. Zzzzz.

When she woke up, the castle was alive with noise! Clippity-clop! The royal carriage had returned! The king and queen rushed in, their arms full of presents wrapped in paper that crinkled like autumn leaves. "We’re home!" they cheered. And guess who came waddling in behind them? Pippin! His little nose was covered in dirt, and he was huffing like a tiny steam engine. Puff-puff!

"Pippin!" Penelope laughed. "You forgot your acorn!" She pulled it from her pocket, and Pippin’s eyes sparkled. "You waited for me!" he squeaked. "And I waited for you!" Penelope said, hugging him tight. The castle smelled like cinnamon buns again, the drawbridge creak-clacked happily, and the royal carpets felt even softer than before.

That night, as Penelope drifted off to sleep, she smiled. Waiting hadn’t been so bad after all. Sometimes, the best things come to those who… well, who wait with a little bit of patience—and maybe a squishy dough ball or two.