On the twelfth day of Christmas we all go to the boulangerie. And once there you buy a "Galette des Rois". Now despite the name, this is not a cake made from Kings. It is almond flavoured, frangipane to be exact. Although the cake itself bears a resemblance to the pastry you might get from a Greggs Ham and Filth slice. Regardless, it is delicious. This is not the point.
So you have your cake, nice and warm. You have your knife, deadly and sharp. You have your audience, hungry and drinking cider (cider that the boulangerie included for "free". When you pay 10euros for a four person cake, it is the least they could do). You have your table, laid and ready.
The youngest of the group must now climb under the table. I am not making this up. This is a true recounting of events. With the youngest safely under the table, you slice the take into the same number of pieces as there are people. You then take each piece and ask the unseen youth who it is for, doling them as told. Then the youngest is allowed out, their task complete.
All have a piece of cake. All begin eating. And at some point, somebody will break a tooth as they encounter some hard little object (I believe it was originally a coin) within their slice. This means that they have won. They are the King (or Queen). In my case it was a small plastic figurine of one of the chefs from Ratatouille, the Pixar film with the rat.
Upon winning the King must choose his Queen, or vice versa. He also has to wear his crown. Yes, the friendly boulanger will include a cardboard crown with this special cake. The King and Queen kiss. The cake is finished.
(I am the King for this year)