On top of Windmill Hill stood a bakery,
with four big sails that turned in the wind.
Whoosh… whoosh… went the sails.

Nana Wren opened the shutters wide.
"Good morning, hill!"
Down flapped a small bright parrot.

"Squawk! Good morning, Nana!
What are we baking? Is it ready? Can I help?"
Nana Wren laughed.
"Good morning, Pico. One question at a time."