The door opens with a thud as Saif runs inside; he flings his school bag on the floor and asks: “How many?” “Four,” somebody replies. “Just four?” Saif says and his brow furrows in consternation. Now he opens the fridge and inspects the objects of his mathematical inquiry: four brown eggs sit smugly in the egg container. But they are just four! Since the day my carnivorous family ate up Napoleon and his family, ten new hens have been living in the hen coop and carousing under the grapefruit and tangerine trees. And they lay eggs. While every Lilliputian is impressed with the mysterious feat that the hens are capable of, Saif is totally bewitched. He sits for hours in front of the hen-coop, observing the hens in a bid to find out how they manage to make eggs without any apparent exertion on their part. Added to this ponderous undertaking is another overriding concern: since there are ten hens, there should be ten eggs. So when Saif comes in the afternoon and