“Oh, by Dit’s ice, why must you do that?” Kier slammed his forehead down on Ina’s low table. He sat on the floor, waiting for Ina to finish her cooking.

“Now what?” said Ina brandishing her wooden spatula.

“You’re cooking fries. I love fries. But smelling them multiplied my hunger. Ten times. Fifty maybe.”

“Oh.” Ina lowered the cooking implement. “Well, just wait a few more minutes and we’ll all eat together.

“Yuck.” Peppermint gagged. “I hate the smell of fries.”

Kier raised his head and turned it to look on the white fox next to him with eyes of puzzlement. “How can you hate the smell of love?”