Free Goat Pie by Alan MacDonald

life out of us.’
    Mr Troll seemed pleased. He explained that ‘going roaring’ was an old trollish custom.
    â€˜If we roar outside your cave three times it brings you good luck. Especially if you feed us.’ His eyes strayed to the table set for supper.
    â€˜Oh well, you’re welcome to join us for supper, aren’t they, Jackie?’ said Mr Priddle.
    Mrs Priddle opened her mouth but seemed unable to speak.
    â€˜Marvellous,’ said her husband. ‘After all, it is Christmas. The more the merrier!’
    The Trolls went round the room hugging and kissing everyone and wishing them ‘Happy Trollmas’.
    The Snorleys remained clinging to each other on the sofa, looking as if they might bolt for the door at any moment. Things were looking up, thought Mr Priddle.
    An hour later dinner was served and the party began to warm up. Two bottles of wine were uncorked (the Trolls were not used to wine and itmade them even more noisy than usual). They pulled crackers and wore paper hats lopsidedly on their heads. They ate second and third helpings of Mrs Priddle’s roast turkey and declared it ‘nearly as tastesome as goat pie’ (even Ulrik forgot that he was a veggytellyum). After dessert Grumpa stood on the table to sing an old trollish hunting song and no one seemed to mind when he put his foot in the trifle.
    â€˜A game!’ cried Mrs Priddle when the song ended. ‘We were going to play a game!’
    â€˜Shall I pop home and fetch my quiz?’ offered Mr Snorley.
    â€˜No!’ chorused the Priddles loudly and all at once.
    â€˜I got a game for Trollmas,’ said Ulrik. ‘It’s called Rockball.’
    â€˜Rockball?’ said Mrs Snorley. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever heard of it.’
    â€˜It’s great,’ said Ulrik. ‘This is the rock.’ He passed a rock about the size of a small cannonball across the table for Mrs Snorley to admire.
    â€˜You’ve got the ball so you can start,’ said Grumpa.
    â€˜Oh! Me? What am I meant to do with it?’ asked Mrs Snorley.
    â€˜Try and keep it,’ said Ulrik.
    â€˜How do I do that?’
    â€˜Run!’ advised Grumpa.
    â€˜Run?’ said Mrs Snorley. ‘Run where?’
    â€˜Anywheres,’ said Mr Troll. ‘Before we grab you by the legses and snaffle it off you.’
    Mrs Snorley saw that Ulrik and Mr Troll were already getting to their feet. She screamed and fled from the table, holding the rock out in front of her as if it was a time bomb.
    The Trolls chased her through the kitchen and out into the back garden, pursued by Alice, Warren and a worried Mr Snorley. Grumpa and Mrs Troll stood with the Priddles by the back door to watch them go.
    â€˜I do hope they’re not going to get carried away,’ said Mrs Priddle.
    From somewhere in the darkness came a surprised scream closely followed by a roar of triumph.
    â€˜It sounds like Mrs Snorley’s the one being carried away,’ grinned Grumpa.
    It had turned out to be quite a merry Trollmas after all.

Bloomsbury Publishing, London, Berlin, New York and Sydney
    First published in Great Britain in September 2007 by Bloomsbury Publishing Plc
36 Soho Square, London, W1D 3QY
    This electronic edition published in August 2011 by Bloomsbury Publishing Plc
    Text copyright © Alan MacDonald 2007
Illustrations copyright © Mark Beech 2007
The moral rights of the author and illustrator have been asserted
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