Карлсон, который живет на крыше

           Shewasshakingthebigfryingpanovertheflame,andinthepanjostledlotsandlotsofnicelybrowned,littlemeatballs.

           "Hello,Eric,"saidMommy."We’regoingtoeatinaminute."

           "Mommy,couldIhavesomemeatballsonasaucertotaketomyroom?"askedEricinhismostpersuasivevoice.

           "Butwe’regoingtohavedinnerinaminuteortwo,darling,"saidMommy.

           "Oh,please!"saidEric."AfterdinnerI’lltellyouwhy."

           "Verywell,"saidMommy,"justafewthen."

           Sheplacedsixmeatballsonasmallplate.Oh,howgoodtheysmelledandtheyweresmallandbrownandround,justastheyshouldbe.Ericcarriedtheplatecarefullyinbothhandsashehurriedbacktohisroom.

           "Look,Karlsson!"hecalled,openingthedoor.

           ButKarlssonhaddisappeared.Ericstoodtherewiththemeatballs,andKarlssonwasnotthere.Ericwasterriblydisappointed—everythingsuddenlyseemedverycheerless."He’sgoneaway,"hesaidaloudtohimself.Butthen…

           "Squeak,"hesuddenlyheardavoicesaying."Squeak!"

           Ericlookedallaround.Fardownatoneendofthebed—underneaththeblankets—hesawafatlittlelump,moving.Thatwaswherethesqueakcamefrom.ThenKarlsson’sredfacepeepedoutfrombetweenthesheets.

           "Haha,"saidKarlsson."‘He’sgone,’yousaid,‘he’sgone’—haha,Ihaven’tgoneatall.Iwasonlypretending."

           Thenhecaughtsightofthemeatballs.Presto,heturnedthebutton,theenginestartedbuzzing,andKarlssonglidedfromthebedstraightpasttheplate.