Autumn leaves swirl across the Sunnybrook Harvest Fair. The air smells of sweet roasted corn and cinnamon fudge. Eight-foot-tall Matt tiptoes carefully between the booths, trying hard not to bump the canvas tents. "Look at that magnificent specimen!" chirps Fillbert from Matt’s shoulder. Fillbert points his polished walking stick at Big Bertha. The prize pumpkin is enormous. It sits on a red wagon, wide as a cottage and round as a harvest moon. Suddenly, the thick hemp tether makes a loud, sickening sound. SNAP! The wagon shifts violently. Big Bertha slips off the bed and begins to roll.