“Oh, you naughty child!” piped up a little thin squeaking voice. “Are you trying to bite my head off?”
She looked at the apple in her hand, and there, in the place where she had bitten it, was a tiny head with little black eyes.
“Let me out!” cried the voice again. “Suppose you’d bitten my head off, what then, eh?”
Merrimeg held up the apple and looked close at the tiny head.
“I’m sorry,” said she. “How can I let you out?”
“Why, you stupid thing,” said the little creature, “eat me out, of course!”
“Oh!” said Merrimeg, and she carefully ate all around the outside of the apple, and out came into her hand the tiniest little man in the world, no bigger than an apple core, and dressed in a coat made of apple seeds all fastened together.
“I heard your mother calling you!” said this little elf. “First you won’t answer your mother, and then you nearly bite my head off. What do you mean by it?”
