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This is not a fairy tale. This is about real witches.
Grandmamma loves to tell about witches. Real witches are the most dangerous of all living creatures on earth. There's nothing they hate so much as children, and they work all kinds of terrifying spells to get rid of them. Her grandson listens closely to Grandmamma's stories—but nothing can prepare him for the day he comes face-to-face with The Grand High Witch herself!
in the whole of Inkland!’ The witches gasped. They gaped. They turned and gave each other ghoulish grins of excitement. ‘Yes!’ thundered The Grand High Witch. ‘Vee shall svish them and svollop them and vee shall make to disappear every single smelly little brrrat in Inkland in vun strrroke!’ ‘Whoopee!’ cried the witches, clapping their hands. ‘You are brilliant, O Your Grandness! You are fantabulous!’ ‘Shut up and listen!’ snapped The Grand High Witch. ‘Listen very carefully and let us not be
filth?’ They're talking about me, I thought. These females are actually talking about how to kill me. I began to sweat. ‘Whoever he is, he is not important,’ announced The Grand High Witch. ‘Leave him to me. I shall smell him out and turn him into a mackerel and have him dished up for supper.’ ‘Bravo!’ cried the witches. ‘Cut off his head and chop off his tail and fry him in hot butter!’ You can imagine that none of this was making me feel very comfortable. William and Mary were still running
vill get two of these bottles!’ she shouted. ‘Thank you, thank you, O Most Generous and Thoughtful One!’ chorused the ancient witches. ‘Not one drop will be wasted! Each of us will promise to squish and squallop and squiggle one thousand children!’ ‘Our meeting is over!’ announced The Grand High Witch. ‘Here is the time-table for the rrreemainder of your stay in this hotel. ‘Rrright now, vee must all go out on to the Sunshine Terrace and have tea vith that rrridiculous Manager. ‘Next, at six
Mouse-Maker! I left the empty bottle behind a large saucepan and began working my way back along the top shelf. It was much easier to move about without the bottle. I began using my tail more and more. I swung from the handle of one saucepan to the handle of another all the way along that top shelf, while far below me cooks and waiters were all bustling about and kettles were steaming and pans were spluttering and pots were boiling and I thought to myself, Oh boy, this is the life! What fun it is
also asked that I take you back to your own house in England. He wants us to stay there.’ ‘But why?’ I said. ‘Why can't we stay here in Norway? You would hate to live anywhere else! You told me you would!’ ‘I know,’ she said. ‘But there are a lot of complications with money and with the house that you wouldn't understand. Also, it said in the will that although all your family is Norwegian, you were born in England and you have started your education there and he wants you to continue going to