Liska bounced on her toes by the kitchen table.

Today was market day!

She and Papa had a tradition. Every market day, Papa gave her a bead of her very own, to spend on whatever she wanted. Her choice.

Papa placed a shiny glass bead in her paw.

"Here you go, furball," he said. "It's yours to spend."

"Thanks, Papa!"

Liska squeezed the warm bead. So smooth. So round.

At the market there was always something delicious. The bead never made it home.

The market was loud, bright, and smelled terribly, terribly delicious. Liska walked with her head whipping side to side — kebabs on the left, chebureks on the right, roasting nuts somewhere, flatbread somewhere else!

She spotted the cheburek stall.

"One bead for a cheburek!" called the baker.

Liska ran straight over and handed him her bead.

She took a big hopeful bite. Mmmm! It melted in her mouth. Meat juice ran down her whiskers.

A little later, another familiar smell found her. Ah! Sizzling fish kebabs! Her favorite thing at the whole market!

Her mouth flooded with drool.

Liska dashed over to the Kebab Man. "One kebab, please!" she sang, reaching for her bead, but...

Her paw was empty. No warm bead. Nothing.

Liska's ears drooped. Her eyes filled up and the tears rolled down her fluffy cheeks.

Mama scooped her up and rocked her gently. All the way home, Liska thought about one thing and one thing only. Next time. Kebab. Definitely kebab.

On the next market day, Liska gripped her new bead tight.

The cheburek smell had tiny paws of its own — they grabbed her by the ear, by the nose, by the tail, and tugged her toward the baker.

Liska squeezed her bead harder.

"Today. Is. Not. Cheburek. Day!" she shouted, and ran right past the stall.

At the Kebab Man's stall she held up her bead proudly.

"How much for a kebab?" she asked, all hope.

"Three beads," the Kebab Man said kindly.

Liska's jaw hit the ground. Three whole beads?! She looked at her bead. Then at her paws. There were four paws. There was one bead. Something did not add up.

Liska shuffled back to her parents, paws dragging in the dust.

Papa saw her crumpled little face.

"What's wrong, kitten?" he asked, crouching down. "You look so sad."

Liska nodded, and Papa pulled her into a big tight hug.

"I want a kebab," she sniffled. "But I only have one bead."

"Oh, you're sad you can't buy a kebab," Papa said. "I'd be sad too."

He held her close and purred softly. Slowly, Liska purred back.

The next market day brought another bead.

Now Liska had two!

As they passed the cheburek stall, her tummy grumbled loud. Grrrrowl! The chebureks smelled SO good.

"Just one teeny cheburek," she mumbled.

But she made her paws keep walking.

And two beads were STILL not enough for a kebab!

Liska turned into a gloomy dumpling.

"This is SO HARD!" she wailed.

Out of pure frustration, instead of a kebab, she bought TWO whole chebureks and spent her every bead.

The chebureks were very yummy. But nowhere near as yummy as her favorite fish kebab.

At home, Liska stared at her empty paws.

No beads again!

She flopped face-first onto the floor and stayed there, flat and fluffy, like a furry little pancake.

Papa found her — flat and fluffy — on the floor. He lay down next to her.

"What's the matter, kitten?"

"I'll NEVER save up for a kebab!" Liska howled. "It's too hard!"

"Wanted a cheburek that bad, huh?" Papa said.

"YES! I see it, I run to it, I give away my bead! Every time! Bead in paw — cheburek in mouth — paw empty!"

"Mmm," Papa said, scratching behind her ear.

Then Liska sat bolt upright. Her eyes went huge.

"Papa. What if my paw was empty FROM THE START?! Let's build the beads a house!"

Papa found a box. Liska grabbed the paints.

She dipped the brush in green. Then blue. Then Papa.

BOOP! A blue stripe appeared on Papa's cheek.

"LISKA!" Papa jumped up and knocked the paint jar onto the rug.

Liska cackled and chased him all around the room, and by the end Papa had a blue nose too!

When the box and Papa's nose were finally dry, Liska had a real, proper house for her beads.

She dropped her bead in the piggy bank. And at the market her paws were empty. The bead was safe!

By the next market day, there were two beads in the piggy bank.

Before leaving, her paws hovered over it. Should I bring the beads?

"Just in case," she muttered. "What if I want a cheburek?"

She picked up the piggy bank. Put it down. Picked it up again.

"What if I spend them all again? NO! I'm saving up for a kebab!" She set the piggy bank firmly back on the shelf.

At the baker's stall, the cheburek smell was unbelievable — oil sizzling, people laughing, hot steam puffing from the oven.

Her tummy howled. She had almost, almost reached the baker...

Then she remembered. The beads were at home.

"Not today, cheburek," Liska said, and bolted away from the counter.

And at last — THE market day came!

Liska's paws trembled as she dropped the last bead into the piggy bank.

All three spots were finally full!

"KEBAB DAY!" Liska yelled.

She spun into a dance, tripped, and rolled across the floor like a clumsy little snowball.

At the market she ran straight to the Kebab Man.

She shook her piggy bank proudly over her head.

"Three beads for a kebab!" Liska announced.

She tipped the warm glass beads into Kebab Man's palm.

The kebab was perfect. Crunchy outside! Tender inside — mmm!

She sat on the steps, swinging her paws, taking the tiniest bites she could manage.

"Yoo aw da bess kebab EVVUH," Liska mumbled around her bite. "I waited sho wooong."

She finished her kebab and leaned against Papa's shoulder.

"Papa, thanks for inventing the piggy bank."

"You invented it," Papa smiled.

"Then thanks for being my Papa."

On the way home Liska walked and pondered.

Hmm, what should I save up for next?

Oh, I know! A whole MOUNTAIN of kebabs! Higher than the trees! No — higher than the clouds! I'll climb right to the top, and I'll be the Princess of Kebab Mountain!

"Papa!" Liska burst out. "I need a HUGE PIGGY BANK right now! I'm saving up for a hundred million billion kebabs!"