There had been thirteen of them for a while, but people had begun to whisper things about unlucky numbers and trouble coming in thirteen, giving disapproving glares to the unheard of amount of Gardner hooligans. Of course Rosie couldn’t stand to have that sort of nonsense and shortly thereafter Tolman had been born.
“But what’ll we do now?” whined young Hamfast while his older siblings cooed over the new babe. “We aren’t a baker’s dozen anymore. Whenever we go to market one of us’ll always be left without a cookie.”
Bilbo looked alarmed. “I’m not giving up *my* cookie!”
Robin gurgled in agreement. She wanted to keep her cookie, too.
“Whoever invented how many pastries go in one box?” mulled Hamfast, who liked his pastries very much. “Who decided that twelve, or even thirteen, was a normal dozen?”
Daisy swept into the conversation, bringing Sam-lad and Primrose with her. “Well, have you ever heard of a baker with more than thirteen children? Doesn’t seem very practical, does it?”
Primrose pouted, absently picking up Ruby. “We’re practical. We’ve always been practical. And we can be practical with fourteen, too.”
Bilbo sat deep in thought, wiggling his toes in concentration. “But if we’re not a normal dozen, and we’re not a baker’s dozen, then what are we, then?”
Sam-lad, who had been silent, gave a slight smile and goosed his younger brother on the cheek. “Silly. We number fourteen. That means we’re a Gardner dozen.”
~