She is cold. She used her cloak for the piglet," said her father, and as he did so Morg's fingers, warmed by his cloak, unclasped. The piglet wriggled from its bundle and ran squealing into the hut. Morg's father beat it to the door, which he kicked closed, and then he tried to catch it. But the piglet was fast, and furious at its captivity. Round and round the fire they raced. Col joined in, trying to head the piglet into a corner. Two bowls of water were smashed. The loom was knocked over. The piglet squealed. Morg's mother grabbed the baby. Morg's father flung himself at the piglet, but only managed to land face forward on the blankets. Col grabbed at the straw to make a wall, and Morg's father pushed some wood and the edge of the loom to form a pen, and the piglet was trapped. Morg's father and Col were exhausted and Morg and her mother were weak from laughter.