There was something new in the bowl that morning: small orange berries, shiny as beads, and nobody in the burrow had eaten one before.
Pip: “I don’t like those. I haven’t had one, but I know.”
Bramble padded in and said softly,
Bramble: “Then don’t eat one. Honestly. Nobody in this burrow is going to make you.”
Bramble and Pip walked the mossy path towards the woodland table. Hazel was waiting, twirling a tiny wooden spoon.
Hazel: “Hello Pip! My trick is the smallest spoon in the drawer. A taste the size of a raindrop.”
Pip: “And if the taste is horrible?”
Hazel: “Then out it goes, and we all carry on.”
Under the wide oak, Old Oakley considered the question properly before answering.
Old Oakley: “New food is a bit like a new path: unfamiliar until you have walked it once. It might taste lovely, and it might not.”
Pip: “So how do I know which?”
Old Oakley: “Here is the simple part: take a taste the size of a raindrop, or say, “not this time.” Both are proper answers, and you may give the same answer tomorrow.”
At the long woodland table there was soup, warm bread, and a small dish of the orange berries. Nobody watched Pip, and nobody hurried Pip.
Pip: “Not this time for the soup. But I’ll try a raindrop of berry.”
Pip took the tiniest taste, and made a truly remarkable face.
Pip: “Sweet at the front. Odd at the back. I might try it again another day.”
Pip ate bread and honey afterwards, which was exactly enough.
Bramble: “Trying is the brave bit,” said Bramble. “Liking it was never the job.”
Pip: “I tried something new today.”
And Pip walked home through the golden evening, carrying the little bowl.