The king sat on his throne in front of a long line of pastry chefs and dessert masters, each bearing their greatest creations for the annual tasting. One by one, scrumptious sweets and delicate delicacies went down the king’s gullet, and one by one, he summarily dismissed each chef.

“This is far too bland! This one, too fruity. This one, too rich!”

The line steadily moved forward, filling the king with unpleasurable pastries. He grew with each bite, swelling past his throne and spilling onto the dias.

A baker’s apprentice stepped forward. She held out a single cupcake, unadorned save a dollop of fresh cream.

She presented the cake to the royal taster, who took her standard bite. The taster’s eyes lit up.

“Sire! You must taste this. Best of the year’s batch by far.”

The king sat up in interest.

“Come! Let me have this cake.”

The king tossed the cake wholly into his gaping mouth. He chewed, considering.

The baker’s apprentice stood very still, silently watching the king, who was now ten times the size of anyone in the room.

The king swallowed, then spoke.