Tate slipped into the house through the back door - Pierre had left it slightly ajar. Overjoyed at being home, she immediately flopped onto the floor. Just then, Pierre came in from the barn. "Tate!" he exclaimed, rubbing his eyes in disbelief. "Is it really you?" He scooped her up in his arms, kissed her on the forehead, then set her on the kitchen table, smiling. "I have some excellent news!"
"It's all thanks to you, my accident-prone friend. When you were in the barn the other day, you must have knocked my cheese into the bucket of ashes next to the table without realizing it. I couldn't imagine where it had gone; for ten days I searched high and low. Finally, I thought to check the bucket. I reached in, and there was the cheese, coated in gray ash.
"I knew I couldn't enter it in the Bataille des Fromages like that, but I decided to try some anyway. I put a small piece on some bread and ate it. I was astounded - what a flavor! Slightly smoky - most unusual. Ripening in the ashes had given it an extraordinary taste. Perhaps I had a prizewinner after all!
"Encouraged, I entered the cheese in the Bataille as I'd planned. After a nerve-racking day of competition, our cheese emerged triumphant! It was proclaimed Best Cheese, and is to be served at the Mayor's Christmas celebration. You and I are to be the guests of honor."