A few weeks later, when the food ran out again, the stepmother insisted on the same plan. "We must take them deeper this time," she said. "Much deeper. So deep that they can never find their way back."

This time, the stepmother locked the door at night so Hansel could not collect pebbles. He lay awake, trying to think of another plan.

In the morning, the stepmother gave them each a small piece of bread. As they walked into the forest, Hansel crumbled his bread in his pocket and dropped breadcrumbs along the path. It was the only plan he could think of.

But it was not a good plan. The birds of the forest — sparrows, finches, blackbirds — followed behind them and ate every crumb. By the time Hansel looked back, the trail was gone.

The parents left them in a clearing deep in the forest, even deeper than before. They lit a fire and said the same words: "Wait here. We will come back."

They did not come back.

This time, when the moon rose, there were no pebbles to follow. There was nothing. Hansel and Gretel were truly lost.

They walked through the forest for three days. They ate berries and roots and drank water from streams. They were hungry, tired, frightened, and cold. The forest seemed endless — trees in every direction, all looking the same.

On the third day, they saw a beautiful white bird sitting on a branch. It sang a sweet song and then flew ahead of them, as if it wanted them to follow. They followed it through the trees until they came to a clearing.

And there, in the middle of the clearing, was the most extraordinary house they had ever seen.

The walls were made of gingerbread. The roof was made of cake. The windows were made of clear sugar. The garden fence was made of candy canes. And the door handle was a giant lollipop.

Hansel and Gretel stared at the house. They had not eaten a real meal in three days. Their mouths watered. Their stomachs growled.

"Is this real?" whispered Gretel.

Hansel broke off a piece of the roof and put it in his mouth. "It's real. It's cake. It's delicious!"

They began to eat the house — breaking off pieces of gingerbread, licking the sugar windows, pulling candy canes from the fence. They ate and ate, too hungry to think about where this magical house had come from, or who had built it.