“Big head!” one of the twins said, shoving the other.

“Big head!” the other said, shoving back.

“I think your heads might be the same size,” said Emily. “Like, exactly.”

“Shut up, big head!” the first twin said.

“Yeah,” said the second. “Shut your big ol’ head!”

“It’s a ghast,” said the Poetess.

“What’s a ghast?” asked Emily.

“It’s like a ghost.”

“… And?”

“What?”

“I thought you were going to add something to that. An ‘and’ or ‘but.’”

“No.”

“Oh.”

On the wall of the alley was written: “מנא מנא תקל ופרסין.”

“What’s that say?” asked Emily.

“It says: ‘Mene, Mene, Tekel, Upharsin,'” said the Poetess.

“Oh,” said Emily.

“Don’t worry,” said the Poetess, “it’s not directed at you.”

“What’s wrong with your pig?” he asked.

“Nothing’s wrong with my pig,” said Emily.

“For I am Beatrice who send you on; I come from where I most long to return; Love prompted me, that Love which makes me speak,” said the pig.

“See?” said Emily.