the giant.

"Now, you ridiculous old Thunderthump!" said his wife, with a smile as
broad as the sea in the sun, "how can I mend your white stockings and
look after little boys? You have got plenty to last you over Sunday, I
am sure. Just look what good little boys they are!"

Tricksey-Wee and Buffy-Bob peered through the bristles, and discovered
a row of little boys, about a dozen, with very fat faces and goggle
eyes, sitting before the fire, and looking stupidly into it.
Thunderthump intended the most of these for pickling, and was feeding
them well before salting them. Now and then, however, he could not keep
his teeth off them, and would eat one by the bye, without salt.

He strode up to the wretched children. Now, what made them very
wretched indeed was, that they knew if they could only keep from
eating, and grow thin, the giant would dislike them, and turn them out
to find their way home; but notwithstanding this, so greedy were they,
that they ate as much as ever they could hold. The giantess, who fed
them, comforted herself with thinking that they were not real boys and
girls, but only little pigs pretending to be boys and girls.

"Now tell me the truth," cried the giant, bending his face down over
them. They shook with terror, and every one hoped it was somebody else
the giant liked best. "Where is the little boy that ran into the hall
just now? Whoever tells me a lie shall be instantly boiled."

"He's in the broom," cried one dough-faced boy. "He's in there, and a
little girl with him."

"The naughty children," cried the giant, "to hide from _me_!" And he
made a stride towards the broom.

"Catch hold of the bristles, Bobby. Get right into a tuft, and hold
on," cried Tricksey-Wee, just in time.

The giant caught up the broom, and seeing nothing under it, set it down
again with a force that threw them both on the floor. He then made two
strides to the boys, caught the dough-faced one by the neck, took the
lid off a great pot that was boiling on the fire, popped him in as if
he had been a trussed chicken, put the lid on again, and saying,
"There, boys! See what comes of lying!" asked no more questions; for,
as he always kept his word, he was afraid he might have to do the same
to them all; and he did not like boiled boys. He like to eat them
crisp, as radishes, whether forked or not, ought to be eaten. He then
sat down, and asked his wife if his supper was ready. She looked into
the pot, and throwing the