Once upon a time, in a land yonder-ways, there was a little village.

In the middle of this little village, there was a little hill, atop which sat a little house, in which lived a little boy.

Every day, the little boy woke up, and donned a vest whose shade was his namesake: Burgundy. Burgundy went into town every morning when the markets opened and returned to his house in the evening when the markets closed. Burgundy could be seen every evening carrying a sack full of muffins back home, and as he walked past the houses of the townsfolk, his muffins emitted a sweet aroma that smelled sometimes of chocolate, sometimes of blueberry, and yet other times of banana.

Burgundy, however, never talked to anybody, nor did he share his muffins. The townsfolk wished to have muffins of their own, but Burgundy kept them all to himself. Every night, he sat down in his worn, wooden chair, and ate the muffins he had acquired that day. He always finished all his muffins, so as to not have to share with anyone. As one might imagine, Burgundy was not too popular among the poor townsfolk, who envied Burgundy of his edible wealth.

Thus it was. For many years Burgundy hoarded the aromatic delicacies, and for many years the townsfolk envied him. Burgundy didn’t mind, for he did not wish for nor need the approval of the townsfolk.

That is until one day, Burgundy was seen coming home from the market, not with a sack full of muffins, but a sack full of nothing! Alas, the baker had perished, and at such a young age – just 99 years old. Burgundy walked the streets dejectedly, forlorn and without hope of ever seeing a scrumptious muffin again.

Many days passed, and the little boy would no longer be seen in the markets. Not in the morning when they opened, nor in the evening when they closed. Naturally, the townsfolk took notice, but did not take action. Meanwhile, Burgundy sat on his worn, wooden chair, and sulked.

Eventually, Burgundy decided that he’d had enough of not having enough. So, one morning, as the markets opened, he put on his vest and ambled down to the markets. He searched all around for any sign of his favorite treat, but to no avail. There were no muffins to be had in the town. Once again, Burgundy went home with an empty muffin sack.

For many more days, the little boy stayed in his little house on the little hill and sulked. In fact, he stayed isolated so long, the townsfolk even started to worry about the young lad. Once in a while they’d send a little girl named Aveline up with a basket of grapes, apples and other fruits, so that he might eat something, but Burgundy ignored the girl’s gifts.

One day, while in the middle of his well-practiced sulking routine, Burgundy heard a great commotion in the market. “What on earth could that be?” He asked himself. From his window in his little house on top of his little hill, he could just glimpse a magnificent celebration going on in the market.

At first, Burgundy thought nothing of it. He was determined to stay inside and sulk, as if to prove a point. But that’s when it hit him, that sweet aroma, the delicious smell, the ever-so-familiar scent of muffins! Chocolate, blueberry, banana and more!

Burgundy was positively overwhelmed and rushed down to the market with the speed of a boy who really wanted muffins. He could hardly contain his excitement at the prospect of getting a taste of that marvelous treat for which he’d waited so long. His giddiness even caused him to chuckle all the way to the market.