They tried to play on the road, but the road was very dusty and full of hard stones, and they did not like it. The poor children had now nowhere to play. 'My own garden is my own garden,' said the Giant 'any one can understand that, and I will allow nobody to play in it but myself.' So he built a high wall all round it, and put up a notice-board. 'What are you doing here?' he cried in a very gruff voice, and the children ran away.

When he arrived he saw the children playing in the garden. After the seven years were over he had said all that he had to say, for his conversation was limited, and he determined to return to his own castle. He had been to visit his friend the Cornish ogre, and had stayed with him for seven years.

'How happy we are here!' they cried to each other. The birds sat on the trees and sang so sweetly that the children used to stop their games in order to listen to them. Here and there over the grass stood beautiful flowers like stars, and there were twelve peach-trees that in the spring-time broke out into delicate blossoms of pink and pearl, and in the autumn bore rich fruit. It was a large lovely garden, with soft green grass. Note: Oscar Wilde intended this story to be read to childrenĮvery afternoon, as they were coming from school, the children used to go and play in the Giant's garden.

Over the garden wall chords