"Yes," replied Jack, beginning to doubt his own wisdom; "but they're _magic_ beans. If you plant them over-night, by morning they--grow--right up--into--the--sky--Oh! Please don't hit so hard!" For Jack's mother for once had lost her temper, and was belabouring the boy for all she was worth. And when she had finished scolding and beating, she flung the miserable beans out of window and sent him, supperless, to bed. If this was the magical effect of the beans, thought Jack ruefully, he didn't want any more magic, if you please. However, being healthy and, as a rule, happy, he soon fell asleep and slept like a top. When he woke he thought at first it was moonlight, for everything in the room showed greenish. Then he stared at the little window. It was covered as if with a curtain by leaves. He was out of bed in a trice, and the next moment, without waiting to dress, was climbing up the biggest beanstalk you ever saw. For what the queer little old man had said was true! One of the beans which his mother had chucked into the garden had found soil, taken root, and grown in the night.... Where?... Up to the very sky? Jack meant to see at any rate. So he climbed, and he climbed, and he climbed. It was easy work, for the big beanstalk with the leaves growing out of each side was like a ladder; for all that he soon was out of breath. Then he got his second wind, and was just beginning to wonder if he had a third when he saw in front of him a wide, shining white road stretching away, and away, and away. So he took to walking, and he walked, and walked, and walked, till he came to a tall, shining white house with a wide white doorstep. And on the doorstep stood a great big woman with a black porridge-pot in her hand. Now Jack, having had no supper, was hungry as a hunter, and when he saw the porridge-pot he said quite politely: "Good-morning, 'm. I wonder if you _could_ give me some breakfast?" "Breakfast!" echoed the woman, who, in truth, was an ogre's wife. "If it is breakfast you're wanting, it's breakfast you'll likely be; for I expect my man home every instant, and there is nothing he likes better for breakfast than a boy--a fat boy grilled on toast." Now Jack was not a bit of a coward, and when he wanted a thing he generally got it, so he said cheerful-like: "I'd be fatter if I'd had my breakfast!" Whereat the ogre's wife laughed and bade Jack come in; for she was not, really, half as bad as she looked. But he had hardly finished the great bowl of porridge and milk she gave him when the whole house began to tremble and quake. It was the ogre coming home! Thump! THUMP!! THUMP!!! "Into the oven with you, sharp!" cried the ogre's wife; and the iron oven door was just closed when the ogre strode in. Jack could see him through the little peep-hole slide at the top where the steam came out.