joyously, "Oh, tarts! Could I have one?"

"Why not?" replied Jack lightly; whereupon Everychild placed a number
of the tarts in her lap, and she began to eat heartily.

"This comes of wearing one's good dress," said Grettel between tarts.
"If I'd been wearing an old rag I'd have seen no tricks, that's
certain."

Jack regarded her a little curiously. "As I was saying," he resumed,
"old Blunderbore shouted 'Pooh-hoo!' at what I had done. That was his
ugly, boasting way, you know. He jabbed his knife into his own stomach
to show he wasn't to be outdone--and down he fell, dead as a doornail."

Everychild's heart was beating hard and his face wore a troubled
expression. "I suppose," he said after a thoughtful pause,
"Blunderbore was a very wicked giant--like the Giant Fear?"

Jack was frankly surprised at this question. "A giant is a giant," he
said shortly.

But the troubled expression did not leave Everychild's face. What if
there were a few good giants?--and what if a good giant should
encounter Jack?

His reflections were broken in upon by a triumphant voice--Jack's
voice--exclaiming, "Here's luck for you! Here's one of them coming
now!"

It was true. A very large giant was approaching through the forest.