With an enthusiastic, silent cheer, Billie raced after Quin into the kitchen, already dancing on the balls of her feet. Hammering and baking in one day. How was she to know the day was going to turn out to be one of the best ever! She would have to pester visit Mr. Honeyduke more often.

With round eyes, she gasped as the apron shrunk down to her size. It seemed the wonder of it all wouldn't fade for quite some time. She took it with a quick, "Thanks!" and set about tying it to herself in the same sloppy fashion in which she did up her boot laces. It was a wonder they didn't come undone and trip her up more often.

Quin's request for her to wash her hands was met with a groan. Billie's opinions on personal hygiene were fairly well known. After all, when one went from bathing only a few times a year to having to remain washed and fairly tidy much more often, it was a bit of a shock. In her opinion, cleanliness was for prissy girls and rich folk. At least, those were the only people she had known to care enough to wash up.

Despite her protest, she went ahead and washed her hands, being sure to dry them on her dusty pants, of course. She was at least trying to be a more acceptable human being. Trying.

"Kinda. But I mostly jus' had to fetch them things to put in the bowl."

When her mother would cook for the family she'd been employed to, she'd task Billie and her brother with bringing her the ingredients. Joe had been trusted to actually help cook. The one time she had assisted, something had gone awry, and she was blamed, of course. She still wasn't sure if it was bad luck that the buns caught fire, or if her anger had caused it. They were charred beyond recognition.

"Always looked like a lotta fun, though!" She peered at the ingredients Quin had set out with curiosity.