“What is a library made of?” she said in that way people do when they know they’ve asked a tricky question. She offered the plate to the girls.
“A whole lot of books,” Snow answered, thinking of their old library and its tall sliding ladders. The black baby goat clopped up to the desk and began to chew one of Rose’s braids.
The Librarian shook her head. “Wrong.” She took a bite of cookie. “A whole lot of stories.”
