The Giant Comes Home

I was halfway up the beanstalk when I heard a clatter in my kitchen. I hurried inside. A tiny boy stood beside my open cupboard, and a trail of flour covered the floor. My golden harp was tucked under his arm. My hen huddled behind a pot. “Who are you, and why are you in my home?” I asked. The boy stared up at me. He looked frightened, but I felt startled too. I had been away all morning and had not invited anyone in. The boy dropped the harp. It landed with a loud twang. My hen fluttered onto the table. I took a slow breath and stepped back so I would not frighten them more. “I’m Jack,” the boy said. “I’m sorry. I thought the harp and hen might help my family.” I looked at the flour, the open cupboard and my startled hen. I was cross that Jack had entered without asking, but I could see he was worried. “Let’s talk,” I said. “You can tell me what happened, and we’ll work out what to do next.”