Now, I don’t know about you, but I hate being told to say sorry. I’m happy to say it if I feel sorry, but as soon as someone orders me to say it, I stop feeling it. So I really didn’t want to say it. But then, I didn’t want Evan to carry on feeling annoyed with me. So . . .

‘I wish Evan didn’t feel annoyed with me any more.’

‘I don’t,’ Evan said. He grinned. ‘I’m not annoyed with you at all.’

‘Well, that’s all right then. What shall we do now?’

‘I’m getting a bit hungry,’ said Evan.

What a surprise.

Still. I s’pose I was kind of peckish myself. ‘What shall we have?’

‘Burger and chips?’

‘Coming right up. I wish for two Burger King Whoppers and fries . . .’ Then my mind took a leap. ‘Giant-sized!’

Wow.

I’ve always been fascinated by the idea of giant-sized food. And there it was, steaming, smelling delicious, two boxed burgers, each one about the size of a van. And next to each one, a bag as high as my head, with golden fries poking out of it like planks of wood.

I pulled one of the chips out. I had to use both hands. It was too hot to hold for long, so I wished for it to cool down, just a little bit, and then I took a bite.

Hmm.

It wasn’t quite as delicious as I’d thought. For a start, the outside was a bit leathery – of course it was about fifteen times as thick as before, so quite hard to bite into. Also, when you’re not much bigger than the chip yourself, you notice just how greasy they are. That is, very greasy indeed. And the fine dusting of salt they have, well, when you’re ten centimetres tall it’s not a fine dusting at all but chunks of rock salt, each one about as big as a grain of rice. I took a few bites all the same, but soon got tired of it and put the chip down in the grass. So did Evan.

‘Perhaps the burgers will be better,’ Evan said.