Soon something happened. Great blobs of water bigger than dinner plates fell around them.

“Whatever is it?” asked Pixi.

“It’s raining!” said Mrs Parkin, “Giant rain! How strange! Come under this big thistle, Pixi, until it stops.”

The thistle was a tall prickly plant with its spines as long as spears. The children had to be careful not to get pricked or cut. They crouched under the broad thistle leaves and heard the raindrops falling around them thickly. Soon, to their great dismay, a little stream of water appeared behind the thistle.

“Oh my! I hope a puddle isn’t going to come just here!” groaned Pixi.

The water spread around them. It was most unnerving. If only they had chosen another plant to shelter under, then they could have climbed up its stem and sat on a leaf. But the thistle was set with such long sharp prickles that it was impossible to climb.

Just as the puddle was closing around their feet, a large white thing came sailing by. Pixi and Mrs Parkin stared at it.

“It’s an enormous paper boat!” cried Mrs Parkin in surprise, “Some giant child must have made it and set it sailing in the rain puddles. It’s big enough for us to get into. Shall we stop it and climb inside?”

“Yes,” said Pixi, “The rain is stopping now, so we shan’t get very wet if we sail off in the boat.”

He caught hold of the paper side of the boat and held it still whilst Mary stepped into it. Then Pixi got in too. The boat swung around the prickly thistle and then rushed off down the stream of water, which was now as large as a river to them. Along they went, now rushing to one side and another.

“Pixi, I believe this boat is taking us to the village!” said Mrs Parkin in alarm.

“We’d better get out then,” said Pixi.

But by now the boat was going along far too fast. Sometimes it spun around and around and made them giddy. They wished they had never climbed into it.

Suddenly the stream of water ran under a sort of bridge and came out into the gutter of a roadway. Pixi and Mrs Parkin were in the village where the giants lived, just the place they had been trying to keep away from whilst it was daylight. Now here they were, tearing along in a paper boat for all the giants to see. It was dreadful.

One or two giantesses were walking down the wide street, holding great umbrellas to keep off the few drops of rain still falling. Nobody noticed them at first. Then a giant girl saw them and shouted in excitement.

“Look! Look! Two little dolls in a boat!” she called.

The giant mother looked. The giant girl ran to the gutter and picked up the boat with Pixi and Mrs Parkin still in it. She picked them up so carelessly, that Mrs Parkin nearly fell out.

“Be careful!” yelled Pixi, clutching hold of Mrs Parkin’s arm and helping her steady herself just in time, “You’ll make us fall, giant girl.”

The girl was so astonished to here Pixi’s voice that she nearly dropped the boat.

“Mother, they are not dolls! They are real!” she cried in surprise.

“Well I never!” boomed the mother giant in amazement, “Two little manikins! Wherever could they have come from? We’ll take them home, Grizel.”

“Put them in your market bag, Mother,” said Grizel the giant girl.

So into the mother’s net bag went Pixi and Mrs Parkin, among potatoes, cakes and a large cabbage whose thick leaves felt like leather. They were carried in the bag for a long way. At last they were taken into a great house and the giant girl emptied them out of the bag.

“They really are alive,” said the mother giant, “Put them in the cage, until I’m ready to cook them, Grizel. I’ll enjoy them better than the dinners we had when your father was alive.”