Every village has its secrets, but Picklewhistle-on-the-Moor has one bigger, louder, and nosier than most: Mrs Pratt. She is the sort of woman who frowns at sunshine, scolds bunting for being cheerful, and wears a beetroot-coloured coat that seems to frighten curtains into drooping. Her house leans backwards as though even the bricks are trying to escape her, yet Mrs Pratt herself leans forward into everyone else's business with alarming enthusiasm. If joy is a bonfire, she is always first in line with a bucket of vinegar.This is the tale of how Mrs Pratt decided to silence the village once and for all. The picnic was supposed to be a day of laughter, clapping, and unnecessary sandwiches, but under Mrs Pratt's glare even the puddles looked nervous. Luckily, Picklewhistle also has Tommy Tumbledown, whose grin is wider than his balance. And Tommy never lets misery win quietly.