“THIS STUFF,” SAID MR WONKA, “IS GOING to cause chaos in schools all over the world when I get it in the shops.”

The room they now entered had rows and rows of pipes coming straight up out of the floor. The pipes were bent over at the top and they looked like large walking sticks. Out of every pipe there trickled a stream of white crystals. Hundreds of Oompa-Loompas were running to and fro, catching the crystals in little golden boxes and stacking the boxes against the walls.

“Spotty Powder!” exclaimed Mr Wonka, beaming at the company. “There it is! That’s it! Fantastic stuff!” “It looks like sugar,” said Miranda Piker.

“It’s meant to look like sugar,” Mr Wonka said. “And it tastes like sugar. But it isn’t sugar. Oh, dear me, no.”

“Then what is it?” asked Miranda Piker, speaking rather rudely.

“That door over there,” said Mr Wonka, turning away from Miranda and pointing to a small red door at the far end of the room, “leads directly down to the machine that makes the powder. Twice a day, I go down there myself to feed it. But I'm the only one. Nobody ever comes with me.”

They all stared at the little door on which it said MOST SECRET — KEEP OUT.

The hum and throb of powerful machinery could be heard coming up from the depths below, and the floor itself was vibrating all the time. The children could feel it through the soles of their shoes.

Miranda Piker now pushed forward and stood in front of Mr Wonka. She was a nasty-looking girl with a smug face and a smirk on her mouth, and whenever she spoke it was always with a voice that seemed to be saying: “Everybody is a fool except me.”

“OK,” Miranda Piker said, smirking at Mr Wonka. “So what’s the big news? What’s this stuff meant to do when you eat it?” “Ah-ha,” said Mr Wonka, his eyes sparkling with glee. “You’d never guess that, not in a million years. Now listen. All you have to do is sprinkle it over your cereal at breakfast-time, pretending it’s sugar. Then you eat it. And then, exactly five seconds after that, you come out in bright red spots all over your face and neck.”

“What sort of a silly ass wants spots on his face at breakfast-time?” said Miranda Piker.

“Let me finish,” said Mr Wonka. “So then your mother looks at you across the table and says, ‘My poor child. You must have chickenpox. You can’t possibly go to school today.’ So you stay at home. But by lunch-time, the spots have all disappeared.”

“Terrific!” shouted Charlie. “That’s just what I want for the day we have exams!” “That is the ideal time to use it,” said Mr Wonka. “But you mustn’t do it too often or it’ll give the game away. Keep it for the really nasty days.”

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