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been courteous. I do know a few secret tricks that might work.’ She whispered in his ear. ‘And make your wife a special rapunzel salad tonight.’
    â€˜Rapunzel?’ said the husband.
    â€˜You might call it rampion. It’s a salad delicacy.’
    â€˜We haven’t got any rampion in our vegetable garden. Would lettuce do instead?’ said the husband.
    â€˜It won’t do at all,’ said the old woman. ‘Here, I have a special rampion patch myself. I will pick you a bunch. But I can only spare you a little.’
    â€˜It’s very kind of you to spare me any,’ said the husband gratefully. ‘What do I owe you?’ He rather hoped she wasn’t going to charge him too many pieces of gold for a couple of tips and a bunch of green leaves.
    â€˜You don’t owe me anything, neighbour. But do not come back and trouble me again,’ said the old woman, and she shut her door.

    The husband went back to his wife and told her he’d consulted with the old woman. She was impressed by his courage, but did not think the witch’s tricks would work – though she ate all her rampion salad supper with great relish.
    Weeks passed. The husband and wife dared start hoping. Months passed. The wife’s gown grew tight around her waist. She clasped her rounded stomach, her face soft with joy.
    â€˜I am going to have a baby!’ she said.
    The husband put his arms around his dear wife and they both wept with happiness.

    The wife was not very well during the months she carried her child. She had to rest in her bed many days and she was often sick.
    â€˜You must eat something, my love. You have to nourish our baby as well as yourself,’ said the husband.
    â€˜I can’t fancy any food at all – except that strange rampion,’ said the wife. ‘Oh, I so long for that sweet delicious fresh tangy taste. Can’t you ask the old witch for some more?’
    â€˜She said she could only spare me a little. And she warned me not to trouble her again.’ The husband hesitated. ‘But I could try telling her just how much it would mean to you.’
    So he went round to the old woman. She glared at him when she opened her door. He told her his wife was now with child and begged for another bunch of rampion.
    â€˜I told you, I cannot spare you any more.’
    â€˜She craves the taste so.’
    â€˜Then she must go on craving,’ said the old woman sharply. ‘I’m warning you! You will bitterly regret it if you disturb me again.’
    The wife wept when told of the old woman’s refusal. She sat up in bed all day and half the night, looking down into the garden where she could see the green rampion patch. Her stomach was still round, but her face grew pale and pinched and the flesh fell away from her arms and legs. The husband was tormented with this new worry, scared his wife would not survive her pregnancy.
    He knew there was no point begging the old woman once more. He decided to take matters into his own hands. He knew what he had to do.
    He waited until long past midnight when the moon was hidden by clouds. Then he crept out of his house in his stockinged feet. The iron arch was locked but he climbed up and over it, though hidden spikes tore great grooves in his hands. He sucked his bloody fingers and stumbled up and down the cobbled path, trying to locate the rampion patch. A huge creeper wound itself right round his neck like a cobra and gave him such a shock he fell headlong. He lay stunned for a moment – and then realized he had fallen right into the rampion patch.
    He plucked as many leaves as he could, scrambled to his feet, and was just stumbling back to the gate when he heard the front door open.
    The moon came out, a huge pearly full moon that cast an eerie silver glow upon the garden. The old woman stood right in front of him, her eyes glittering, her face contorted, her mouth open. Her few teeth were filed into