Every spring the hill village has a cheese race. A big round cheese rolls down the hill, and whoever catches it first wins it and the Golden Spoon. This year the mayor slipped and dropped it before the whistle.
The cheese rolled through the market and in through the front door of the bakery and out of the back. Then it rolled down the steps to the harbor. Four hundred people ran after it: the baker, the postman, three grandmothers and the mayor.
Ada was eight and too small to run fast. She said, "Cheese goes downhill, so it stops at the lowest place: the end of the pier." She sat there with her red wagon. The cheese thumped into the wagon and stopped. Ada won the Golden Spoon and cut the cheese into four hundred and one pieces.
