In the quirky little town of Georgetown, where the moon always seemed to wink at the cobblestone streets, lived a ten-year-old girl named Zoe. She had a mop of curly red hair that bounced like springs, freckles that danced across her nose, and a giggle that could make even the grumpiest gargoyle smile. Zoe loved baking more than anything—her kitchen was her kingdom, where she whipped up cookies fluffier than clouds and cakes so sweet they’d make a skeleton sing.

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