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"
A
thief
!
"
the
Trunchbull
screamed
.
"
A
crook
!
A
pirate
!
A
brigand
!
A
rustler
!
"
"
Steady
on
,
"
the
boy
said
.
"
I
mean
,
dash
it
all
,
Headmistress
.
"
"
Do
you
deny
it
,
you
miserable
little
gumboil
?
Do
you
plead
not
guilty
?
"
"
I
don
’
t
know
what
you
’
re
talking
about
,
"
the
boy
said
,
more
puzzled
than
ever
.
"
I
’
ll
tell
you
what
I
’
m
talking
about
,
you
suppurating
little
blister
!
"
the
Trunchbull
shouted
.
"
Yesterday
morning
,
during
break
,
you
sneaked
like
a
serpent
into
the
kitchen
and
stole
a
slice
of
my
private
chocolate
cake
from
my
tea
-
tray
!
That
tray
had
just
been
prepared
for
me
personally
by
the
cook
!
It
was
my
morning
snack
!
And
as
for
the
cake
,
it
was
my
own
private
stock
!
That
was
not
boy
’
s
cake
!
You
don
’
t
think
for
one
minute
I
’
m
going
to
eat
the
filth
I
give
to
you
?
That
cake
was
made
from
real
butter
and
real
cream
!
And
he
,
that
robber
-
bandit
,
that
safe
-
cracker
,
that
highwayman
standing
over
there
with
his
socks
around
his
ankles
stole
it
and
ate
it
!
"
"
I
never
did
,
"
the
boy
exclaimed
,
turning
from
grey
to
white
.
"
Don
’
t
lie
to
me
,
Bogtrotter
!
"
barked
the
Trunchbull
.
"
The
cook
saw
you
!
What
’
s
more
,
she
saw
you
eating
it
!
"
The
Trunchbull
paused
to
wipe
a
fleck
of
froth
from
her
lips
.
When
she
spoke
again
her
voice
was
suddenly
softer
,
quieter
,
more
friendly
,
and
she
leaned
towards
the
boy
,
smiling
.
"
You
like
my
special
chocolate
cake
,
don
’
t
you
,
Bogtrotter
?
It
’
s
rich
and
delicious
,
isn
’
t
it
,
Bogtrotter
?
"
"
Very
good
,
"
the
boy
mumbled
.
The
words
were
out
before
he
could
stop
himself
.
