A little girls came running into the house with tears streaming down her face.
"Quick, Mummy!" she screamed. "I need a big glass of cider. Quick!"
"Why do you want a glass of cider, dear?" asked the mother.
"Because," replied the girl, "I cut my hand on a thorn and I want the pain to go away."
Confused, but weary of the child's noise, the mother poured a glass of cider and the girl dunked her hand in it.
"It still hurts," whined the girl. "The cider doesn't work."
"What are you on about? Just tell me!" the mum said, raising her voice.
"Well," replied the girl, "I overheard my big sister saying that whenever she gets a prick in her hand, she can't wait to get it in cider."
"Quick, Mummy!" she screamed. "I need a big glass of cider. Quick!"
"Why do you want a glass of cider, dear?" asked the mother.
"Because," replied the girl, "I cut my hand on a thorn and I want the pain to go away."
Confused, but weary of the child's noise, the mother poured a glass of cider and the girl dunked her hand in it.
"It still hurts," whined the girl. "The cider doesn't work."
"What are you on about? Just tell me!" the mum said, raising her voice.
"Well," replied the girl, "I overheard my big sister saying that whenever she gets a prick in her hand, she can't wait to get it in cider."