Æneas had become acquainted with the peculiar flavor of almost
everything in his immediate vicinity except the Giant's heads; and he
naturally enough cast longing eyes at them. Night and day he wondered
what a Giant's head could taste like, till finally one day when
Patroclus was away he stole out into the potato-field, cut a bit out
of one of the Giant's heads and ate it. He was almost afraid to,
but he reflected that his mother could give him an antidote; so he
ventured. It tasted very sweet and nice; he liked it so much that he
cut off another piece and ate that, then another and another, until he
had eaten two thirds of a Giant's head. Then he thought it was about
time for him to go in and tell his mother and take an antidote, though
he did not feel ill at all yet.

"Mother," said he, rolling slowly into the cottage, "I have eaten
two thirds of a Giant's head, and I guess you had better give me an
antidote."

"O, my precious son!" cried Daphne, "how could you?" She looked in her
book of antidotes, but could not find one antidote for a Giant's head.

"O Æneas, my dear, dear son!" groaned Daphne, "there is no antidote
for Giant's head! What shall we do?"

Then she sat down and wept, and Æneas wept too as loud as he possibly
could. And he apparently had excellent reason to; for it did not seem
possible that a boy could eat two thirds of a Giant's head and survive
it without an antidote. Patroclus came home, and they told him, and he
sat down and lamented with them. All day they sat weeping and watching
Æneas, expecting every moment to see him die. But he did not die; on