As I said, he was a very happy giant indeed, and he used to laugh and shake all over a very great deal. You see, he never realized that he was all alone on his island, because he had never known what it would be like to have someone there to play with him. Every morning when he had finished his rhubarb, he used to walk along the seashore, dabbling his toes in the soapy waves, and singing: “Gobble-me-up is my name, A Happy Giant am I ... And I always feel just the same ... And I’ll sing this song till I die.” When he came to this point he would always whirl about on his left heel three times, and clap his hands above his head. Now at the particular moment when my story would be beginning if I hadn’t wasted all this time talking, Gobble-me-up was just setting out for his morning walk. He was tossing his head in the breeze ... it was the first day of Spring, you see ... and he breathed in the ozone, and enjoyed it, because he didn’t know that it was ozone. And, according to his habit, he began to sing: “Gobble-me-up is my name....” when all of a sudden three clams that were lying on the beach opened their shells very wide, and laughed, in perfect rhythm: “Ha! HA!! HA!!!” Gobble-me-up looked about in surprise, and the clams continued to laugh in a way that was rude, even for clams. Then Gobble-me-up became very angry ... no self-respecting Giant likes to be laughed at. He shook his curls at them, trying to look very fierce indeed. At last he sputtered: “WHAT do you Mean By Talking to ME Like =that=?” (He was so angry, you see, that he leaped into free verse, a thing which had always been against his principles.) When the clams had laughed until they could laugh no more, and had rolled over in the sand to wipe the perspiration off their shells, the most imposing clam answered him. “Ha! ha!” she said (I am quite sure it was a “she”), “the idea of a giant who only eats rhubarb ... he! he! ... the idea of =his= being called Gobble-me-up!” At this all the other clams went off into wild gales of laughter, and snapped their shells to show how very funny they thought it was. Gobble-me-up was perplexed. He didn’t quite know what they meant. But they did not intend to leave him in any doubt about this. They explained immediately, interrupting each other, and acting in a way that was very rude indeed. They said that he ought to be a “very-cannibal-and-wear-a-red-sash-and- whiskers-and-eat-up-little-boys-and-girls” (they said it quickly, like that) and that he ought to go around muttering dreadful things like: “Fe, fi, fo, fum, I smell the blood of an Englishmun,”