“Everybody loves me,” he squealed pitifully. (It was a very good squeal, but it expressed pitiful sentiments). Neither of his visitors understood, as they were, of course, some of the few creatures who did not love Frank. Even with apple sauce.

“We don’t love you,” they said truthfully; then to their surprise, they realised they were in danger of agreement.

“I’d say this pig was an inconsequential misanthrope,” said the blue unicorn.

“And I would say he was a regrettable blot on the landscape,” said the green.

They looked one another in their opalescent, bloodshot eyes, depending whether they described themselves or one another. This was serious; they had never agreed about anything before!