Thomas walked slowly home, his shoulders slumped, his usual cheerful whistle quite forgotten. The bustling market seemed a blur, and even the sweet smell of jasmine from a nearby garden couldn’t make him feel better. As he passed a cozy little shop, filled with jars of shimmering honey, fragrant spices, and golden clarified butter, the shopkeeper, a jolly man with twinkling eyes named Mr. Giggles, called out to him.
‘I say, my young soldier!’ Mr. Giggles chirped, his voice as warm as a fresh-baked bun. ‘Why the long face? You look as if you've been asked to count all the stars in the sky!’
Thomas sighed a big, wobbly sigh, and decided to tell Mr. Giggles his predicament. ‘Oh, Mr. Giggles,’ he began, ‘the Emperor has ordered me to eat half a kilo of slaked lime tomorrow, and I just don’t know what to do! It will surely make me terribly ill!’