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There are two people made of pumpkins. They stand there, and they greet you as warmly as they greet all the others. One is a man, almost a father, with a moustache and hat. The other is a woman, very matronly, with a plump smile and a flowered hat of her own.

The sheer size of their generosity has spilt out onto the floor below you. Scattered candy, sweets, and treats of the season. Some of the lost souls are still on the ground, but others are impatient. They float above the scene, all hovering towards a destination in the back garden.

You follow the souls, and the trail of candy, for this must be where the gift is.