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48 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 1826
The soup was delicious. He had always enjoyed the meals cooked for him by his mother, but nothing had ever tasted quite as good as this.
When he had finished eating, the guinea-pigs lit Arabian incense, and soon the room was filled with clouds of blue smoke. The smoke grew thicker and thicker. It dulled the boy’s senses and he lost consciousness.
It had blue-green leaves and a red flower with yellow edges. He noticed at once that the flower had the same smell as the soup the old woman had cooked when he first came. The scent was so strong it made him sneeze. He sneezed and sneezed and sneezed – until he woke up.
…the mirror reflected a terrible image: little narrow eyes, a huge nose reaching to the chin, a head set deeply between the shoulders and the body of a child. The arms were as long as a man’s, but with rough, misshapen hands and long, yellowy-brown fingers.
Then he remembered that at the witch’s house he had mastered the art of cookery. He felt certain he was good enough to hold his own with the best…