"Molly propped her elbows on the picnic table, eyes scanning a map. 'So, Bill, this party got all the kids' birthday gifts on one table,' she began, her eyes gleaming. Bill scratched his head under his cooler hat, 'Hmmm... stealing presents, eh? Cute, I'd say. Got a creative mind, Molly.' 'Imaginative? More like downright crafty smart,' she retorted with a wink. 'I've got an idea.’ 'Drop it, Molly,’ he replied, a smirk playing on his lips. ‘What's the plan? Watch and wait? The poor unsuspecting parents think we're here for cake!' ‘Never trust cake,' she laughed, shaking her head. ‘But here's what we'll do.' Mutely, she laid out bags labeled "Party Favors." 'And lay it on the parents, right?' Bill's voice dripped sarcasm. 'Exactly, but spoken with a generous heart and a bottle of guilt-liberating wine!' 'One small favor from me: no shivering little angels catching on. Good for public image?’ 'You're on, little guy.' Molly's voice was barely a whisper. ‘And remember, perfection—too quiet for suspicion.' Bill tipped his hat, giving Molly a smooth nod. ‘Lead the way, Carpet Master.' 'At least I won't be coughing 'Oh, no!' into my truffle recipe,' Molly muttered, already darting off to prepare for the night.