The doll setting the table pours two cups of tea from two separate tea pots. “Orange pekoe for Miss and hibiscus for me,” it says to itself. “It’s okay to have my own tastes.”
Its witch overhears and responds flatly, “no it isn’t.”
The doll freezes, head slowly turning to meet its witch’s gaze, suddenly worried.
“Hibiscus tea is awful. You’re not allowed to like it.”
The witch’s eyes, cold and sharp as daggers, bore deep into the poor doll, which starts to question everything about itself, until…
“Oh! Right!” Its face brightens again. “Eff you, Miss, I like what I like!” It grabs its own teapot possessively and sticks its tongue out… before pausing to see if that was a step too far.
The witch nods in approval. “There we go. I’ll make a horrible doll of you yet.”