We’ve just been to visit Nigel Floppyears in hospital. Clarissa took one of her special carrot cakes, and I took the family photo albums that I found in the library.
“This is Grandfather Robert Rabbit,” I said. “Back in eighteen-hundred-and-something, he opened the world’s first carrot factory.”
“Grandmother Rabbit said he wasted the family fortune on the ‘World’s Finest Mad Idea’. But I can’t see where it went wrong: everyone likes carrots.”
“This machine that he invented… What were the raw ingredients they put in?”
“I can’t quite make it out from the photograph.”
Nigel peered closely. “Oh, you silly rabbit. Look: they’re putting carrots in. They put carrots in one end of the machine, and out the other end came the same carrots. The machine did nothing. No wonder your Grandfather lost all his money. Is everyone in your family as cracked as he was?”
“Eat your cake,” I said.