The Wabbit returned hoping for a good supper. They (as the Wabbit referred to non-wabbits) were cooking risotto. The Wabbit knew a few grains of rice would not harm his tummy but a bowl would not be good for him. He would content himself with some carrots. But the smell was delicious. Then the Wabbit curled up on the carpet and fell into a hazy dream-filled sleep.