The giant Gogmagog’s mouth watered. He was in the mood for a sweet fruit salad and this maiden would be the perfect snack.
Two bites and she was toast. And not the kind with butter and jam.
Gogmagog yawned and lay down for a pre-dinner snooze. He awoke to the smell of an Englishman climbing the beanstalk. Fee, fie, foe, fum!
Wife! Put on the stew pot. Dinner is at the door.