‘Don’t eat them,’ her mother warned. ‘They’ll give you a bad stomach.

But Wanda did. In fact she picked up a handful from the ground and consumed them all when her mother wasn't looking.

That night while she slept, a tiny pip in her stomach grew and clung on to the wall of her burbling intestines with great determination.

‘Get up!’ her mother called up the stairs the following morning. ‘You’ll be late for school. Hurry Wanda!’

When she received no reply, her mother ran up to her daughter's bedroom door, rapping hard upon it. ‘Wanda, get up now or you’ll miss your breakfast.’ Still there was no answer.

Opening the bedroom door, Wanda’s mother burst in, angry at her child's disobedience. But her anger died at the sight of snapping huge claws, and the remains of Wanda’s long dark hair that adorned a crab’s shell like a flimsy blanket.