Oh dear, I am afraid through my enthusiasm for couture baking I have put myself in a rather embarrassing position. Because I must now reveal the terrible secret that I am, in fact, a cake myself!

It is true. In order to give cakes the recognition they truly deserve, and to create culinary perfection at the level I knew I was capable of, I began to bake, passing down the inner knowledge of cakedom down through my creations, and creating a house full of the tastiest and most fashionable cakes in the land. Chocolate Babka is only the most recent in my line ever more sophistcated cakes. There was Tiramisu Semifreddo, Pineapple Chiffon, Jamaican Burnt Sugar...

But to do so I needed to hide the fact that all along, underneath this frosting and fondant, I was actually only a cake myself.

I apologize for "pulling one over" so to speak on the judges of this most wonderful Walking Cake Compettion, and I can only assume this will disqualify me from claiming my prize, though it was long been a dream of mine to visit Screaming Streams, Nevahda.

I will gladly accept the decision of the judges, but have also learned to be proud of what I am, and will, from this moment on, proudly announce the words that for so long I have forbidden for myself to speak out loud: I AM A CAKE!

Oh dear, I seem to have lost my way home from the ball! And before the prizes were given out! I just know I landed in the top three in the fashion show, but I don't know what happened. There were so many flashing lights, and Chocolate Babka and I were talking and suddenly the Battenberg ran by on its tiny chicken legs screaming and waving its spindly little arms and you know how we get spooked easily and pretty soon Babka and were I screaming too, dashing out of the tent and into the gardens, mindlessly running around in circles and wailing and bumping into each other, trailing frosting and crumbs.

Now it's dark and dear me I've lost my friends and there were crows and bugs and I'm ever so spent could you let me know the way back to the ball?