“What’s wrong with him?” I ask, looking around wildly. “He’s going the wrong way! And I don’t want Cauliflower to hear him! Prince, come back!”

But he keeps going. “We have to follow him,” Jonah says, and bolts after our puppy.

We start running, pushing tree branches out of our way. Suddenly, I see two people — one man and one woman — standing in a clearing and looking all around. They’re holding lanterns.

“They have to be here somewhere!” the man says in a frantic voice. “Hansel! Gretel! Where are you? It’s Dad!”

Oh!

Their father is looking for them. His forehead is all crinkled with worry. He looks a lot like Hansel. An older Hansel. Which means he also kind of looks like an older Jonah, and a little like my dad. So weird.

I’m worried at first that the woman at his side is the evil stepmom. I notice that she’s wearing a tan uniform with a tall hat. A shiny gold badge on her chest reads OFFICER GREENMONT. In the hand that’s not holding the lantern, she’s carrying what looks like a white slingshot.

Is she a police officer?

Ruff! Prince barks at them. Ruff-ruff!

Hansel and Gretel’s dad looks in the direction of the barks. So does Officer Greenmont. They see us!

“Officer! There they are!” the father says, his face lighting up. “Hansel! Gretel! We found you!”

Oops. He thinks we’re his kids.

The father and the policewoman run over to us.

“I’m so happy to see you!” their dad says, his voice cracking with emotion. “I’m so sorry I let Stephanie leave you here. I don’t know what I was thinking. Will you ever forgive me?”

As he’s about to hug us, I step back. “Wait! Sir, we’re not Hansel and Gretel! I know we look like your kids, but it’s not us.”

“Huh?” he asks, peering at me and then at Jonah.

“My brother, Jonah? See? His eyebrows aren’t as bushy as Hansel’s,” I point out. “And I don’t have the mole Gretel has on her left cheek.” I tap my cheek. “And we’re not as skinny as they are.”

The father lifts up his lantern, leans in closer, and studies us. “Holy moly! You’re NOT Gretel,” he says to me. He stares at Jonah, tilting his head left and then right. “And you’re not Hansel!” His face falls. “So how do you know so much about them? And where are they?”

“It’s kind of a funny story,” I say. Although I’m not sure how funny he’s going to find the notion of his kids going via tree to another world. “But we’re pretty sure they’re somewhere safe. We’ll go get them and tell them to meet you back at your cottage.”

“We’ll come, too,” the officer says, squaring her shoulders.

“They went through the —” Jonah says.

I give him a look. “No, I don’t think you can. Sorry!” Imagine if the officer and Hansel and Gretel’s dad went through the portal and ended up in our house, too? We’d lose screen time for a year.