Looking at the character of the Baker’s Daughter, she’s very ‘stuck-up’ and rude, but I wanted to explore these words and see what other descriptions I could find. So looking up other abbreviations of ‘stuck-up’ this is what I found and here’s and insight into her character;
arrogant, big-headed, cocky, conceited, condescending, egotistic, haughty, high-and-mighty, hoity-toity, nose in the air, ostentatious, patronizing, pompous, pretentious, puffed up, snippy, snooty, snotty, too big for one’s britches, uppity and vain.
But out of these I found that arrogant, pompous and pretentious were the best to describe her!
Don’t make quick assumptions because you never know what’s around the corner!
A young, arrogant, pretensions baker girl is greeted in her shop one day by one of the old good people of the village. She gets a day she’ll never forget when she refuses to give the old woman any bread and the 3 crumbs of dough for the woman bake to larger than expected. Will the daughter change her ways before the old woman makes her say who forever?
In an old town bakery a selfish father and his obnoxious daughter are busy making bread for the shop. One day, while the father is out, a mysterious good woman dressed in old rags, with dust on her cheeks walks into the shop and asks for some bread. The bakers daughter was not willing to give this old woman some bread for no money in return. After the old woman asks her again, the daughter then pulls of a tiny piece of dough and puts it into the oven, with a batch of other loafs to cook. When the daughter opens the oven, she see’s that the dough had risen so that it was the largest loaf in the oven. The daughter wasn’t going to give that to the old woman so she tore off an even smaller piece of dough and placed it in the oven under another batch of loafs. This then baked to an even bigger loaf that the first one, but still she did not give it to the old woman and instead tossed back her hair and put an even smaller piece of dough into the oven with a batch of fairy cakes. When the girl turned to see the loaf, it had risen so it was the biggest of all three. The daughter said why, who, who? but the woman but raised her stick and taps the daughter on the shoulder turning her into an owl. The daughter then fly’s out the shop hooting away, never to ask who is anybody again.
The baker was thin-lipped; he never gave so much as a crumb away. But his daughter was worse. Not only was she mean; she simpered and toadied to the rich and she insulted and sniffed at the poor.
One day one of the good people came walking by. She picked up some old clothes that had long served her mistress and been left out for the rag-and-bone man and slipped them on. She pressed her palms against the dusty face of the street and rubbed her cheeks.
The woman then went into the bakers shop. The baker was out and the daughter looked at the woman and tossed back her fair hair. “Yes?” She said.
“Can you spare me some dough?” said the woman.
“Dough?” said the girl. “Why should I? If I give dough to everyone who comes through the door, there won’t be ant=y left, will there?”
The woman hung her head, “…haven’t any money,” she mumbled
“Whose fault is that?” asked the girl.
“…anything to eat.”
“Eh?” said the girl, pulling a small piece of dough off the floury, flabby mound that wallowed on the table behind her. “Think yourself lucky!” she said, and she shoved the piece into the oven on the rack just beneath her won trays of well-shaped loaves.
When the girl opened the oven again, she saw that the woman’s dough had so risen that she had the biggest loaf in the oven.
“I’m not giving you that,” said the girl. “If that’s what you think.”
She twisted off another piece of dough, no more than half the size of the small piece. “You’ll have to wait,” said the girl, and she shoved it into the oven under another batch of her own loaves. But this piece of dough swelled even more than the first piece, and the second loaf was larger than the first loaf.
“Or that!” exclaimed the girl. “Certainly not!”
The baker’s daughter tossed back her hair in a temper and squeezed off a third piece of dough scarcely bigger than your thumb. She shoved that into the oven under a batch of fairy cakes, and slammed the door.
After a while, the girl turned round to open the oven again. Behind her, meanwhile, the woman slipped off her ragged clothing. She stood in the baker’s shop, tall and white and shinning.
When the girl opened the oven, she saw that the third piece of dough had risen so that it was the biggest loaf of all three.
The girl stared at the loaf. Her eyes opened, very round and very wide. “Why,” she said, turning round to face the beggar woman, “why, who, who…”
“Whoo-whoo!” cried the good woman. “Whoo-whoo! That’s all you’ll ever say again.”
The girl cowered on the other side of the counter.
“Whoo-whoo!” cried the woman. “This world’s put up with you for long enough-you and your sniffs and insults.” Then she raised her stick and struck the girl’s right shoulder with it. At once the baker’s daughter turned into an owl. She flew strait out of the door, hooting, and away into the dark reaches of the night.