Molly pinched the bridge of her nose, "Okay, Bill, throw me a line here that makes sense." Bill, chewing the end of his bifocals, squinted at the blueprint spread across the table. "Molly, darling, that sapphire tiara isn't going to steal itself from a pack of sugar-high pirates and princesses." She rolled her eyes. "You and your pirates. Focus, we infiltrate the chaos, nab the gifts, and roll out." "Yes, ma'am. Plan?" "Deck ourselves out as clowns. They won't suspect a thing," she outlined, tapping her chin. "Especially if I can balance a unicycle while riding a unicycle." Bill furrowed his brow, "A...unicycle within a unicycle?" "Exactly the kind of caveman humor I love," she quipped. "Wise guy," Bill grumbled, but his grin betrayed him. "Don't worry, Bill. I've accounted for everything," Molly said as she straightened up, "except the impossible." He slapped her shoulder, "Impossible, indeed. And here I thought we'd only be smuggling out bottle rockets and glitter." "Relax," she winked, "We're thieves, not librarians. May the odds be... in our favor?" Bill snorted, "And here I was, nervous you were going Monaco instead of Monty Python." Molly burst into laughter, "On three, then. One, two, thievery!" And as they broke into laughter, the blueprint seemed a less daunting puzzle, the giants of "Child-Camp Cakes and Castles" no match for the duo of thieves. "When do we start?" Bill asked. With their scheme laid bare and laughter still fresh in their lungs, Molly replied, "On one two three, we're not just toe-steppin' everywhere; we're tiptoe-steppin' into legend."