"We," said the giant, "who are we?"
"Why, myself, and my wife, and our five children," said the man; "who should we be but us?"
"Well, do you pretend to say that one of those small birds which fly about here will be enough supper for seven people?" asked Derido, putting down the whale.
"No; it won't be anything like enough, but we often have to put up with as little. The children eat all they can pick from a bird, and then my wife and I suck the bones."
"Upon my word," said the giant, "I shouldn't think any of you would get very fat on that sort of living. It is too bad that you should have such miserable fare, and so I will give you this whale that I have just caught. You can have some of it right away for your suppers, and if you cut the rest up and dry it, it will last your whole family for a year or two."
"People don't eat whale," said the man.
"How do you know?" asked the giant. "Did you ever hear of any one who had tasted it and didn't like it? Did you ever try it yourself? I should think a person as badly off as you would be glad to try whale-meat, before you say it's not eatable."
"I don't want to try it," said the man, looking about to see if he could find a bird. "People would laugh if they saw me cutting up a whale for food. But I'll tell you what I will do; I'll take the skin for a carpet for our best room. We haven't got any carpet on it."
"Not if I know it," said the giant, throwing his fish back on his shoulder, "no whale for you to-day, my friend." And he marched off, provoked that he had stopped to talk to such a blockhead of a man.
It soon became dark, and as the sky was cloudy, and there was no moon, it was very dark indeed. The giant had great
