Tootsie was the cat.

"Don't worry about the cat!" shouted Dad, "It can take care of itself! Hang on to something!" The house was being stretched, and squashed, and twisted. All the windows were broken, the floor was splitting, and the walls had big cracks in them.

Then, suddenly, it all stopped.

Dad grabbed my hand and dragged me to a window. We both looked out together. It was quite a sight!

Far, far below was our section. It was as small as a match-box. I could see the neighbor's house and the road, as thin as a pencil, and the trees, the Park, the telephone exchange ... all the other houses, the whole neighborhood, the town, the hills. We were about three kilometers up in the air!

"How did we get here?" said Dad.

"Are we in an airplane?" I asked, "Or a hot air balloon?"

"We're in a sort of tree," said Dad.

Mum came in, staggering because of the slope of the floor. She had a frightened cat in her arms.

"There there Tootsie-wootsie," she was saying, stroking the cat. It hissed and dug all its claws into her shoulder.

"Wait a minute!" said Dad, "This isn't a tree, its a vine of some sort. It grew last night, from under the house. It picked the house up as it grew!"

"It was those beans!" I said.

"Are you saying this is a bean-stalk?" said Mum, frowning.

"Afraid so," admitted Dad, "I know a bean plant when I see one!"

"Oh no!" I groaned.

"And its our bean-stalk, isn't it?" asked Mum.

"That's right dear," said Dad, "I bought the beans yesterday, remember?"

"Magnabeans."

"Yes dear."