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 'I chose this one because it says it should give us 'little trouble' and we don't want anything to spoil your party this afternoon,' explained Granny.
 Jake knew exactly what Granny meant. The cookbook's recipes usually produced dramatic and often disturbing results. They didn't want Jake's friends turning up and finding the cottage overrun with trolls or vampires!
'Do we have all the ingredients then?' he asked.
'Of course,' said Granny. She had laid everything out on the kitchen table ready. 'I found a bag of the flour in that box that Great Aunt Elinor sent us.'
'Well I'm ready if you are,' grinned Jake. 'Let's get cooking!'
Granny wasn't quite sure what temperature "phoenix mark 7" was, but she imagined that it was very hot so she set the oven as high as it would go.
Jake opened the bag of elf-raising flour and poured out a handful. It didn't look like ordinary flour. It glittered and sparkled with hundreds of colours.
He put the flour into a sieve and shook it. But instead of falling into the mixing bowl, the flour drifted sideways and upwards towards the ceiling.
By the time they realised what was happening, the flour was streaming out of the window like a swarm of bees.
Granny ran to the window and slammed it shut, but it was too late. The flour had already escaped.
The streak of flour swirled across the countryside, its bright colours glittering in the sunlight, like a rainbow that had fallen from the sky.
'Shall we go after it?' asked Jake.
'I think we should wait,' said Granny, looking at the cookbook. 'The recipe says that we shouldn't be alarmed if it doesn't go straight into the bowl.'
Sure enough, the flour was now heading back towards the cottage, weaving between the trees and hedges until it was in Granny's garden again.
Jake forgot to open the window again, but it didn't matter. The flour darted up towards the chimney and popped out of the fireplace a moment later.
'Told you so!' said Granny, as it settled down in the bottom of the bowl.
 Jake added the other ingredients and then picked up the witching-whisk. He wasn't sure how to use it. He wondered whether he should just stir it around like a normal whisk.
'What do you think?' he asked, handing it to Granny.
Granny experimented, whipping the whisk in the air. The talons suddenly sprang open and she let out a shriek and dropped it into the bowl.
The whisk made a slurping noise, as if tasting the mixture. Then it pushed itself up on its talons and began scuttling around the bowl.
'Ugh!' said Granny. 'It's like a spider.'
Jake leaned in closer. He could hear the whisk muttering to itself.
'It must be doing the incantation,' he explained.
The whisk scuttled, faster and faster, churning up the coloured mixture until it disappeared in a kaleidoscopic blur. The incantation grew faster too, speeding up until the words merged into a high-pitched whine.
'Not bad for an antique,' said Jake admiringly, as the bowl began to glow red-hot.
It beats my old electric mixer any day,' agreed Granny.
After a few minutes the whine stopped abruptly and the whisk rattled to a halt against the side of the bowl.
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