Horrid Henry and the Abominable Snowman - Softcover

Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Francesca Simon was born in the United States and attended both Yale and Oxford universities. For ten years she worked as a freelance journalist. She now writes full time and has had many books published, including the bestselling Horrid Henry series and several picture books. She lives in North London, England, with her husband, Martin, and her son, Josh.

Tony Ross is a prolific illustrator of books for children, including Francesca Simon's Horrid Henry series, Martyn Beardsley's Sir Gadabout stories, and, of course, as his own stories. Tony has become one of the best-known creators of original and traditional picture books and his work has been sold all over the world.

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Moody Margaret took aim.

Thwack!

A snowball whizzed past and smacked Sour Susan in the face.

"AAAAARRGGHHH!" shrieked Susan.

"Ha ha, got you," said Margaret.

"You big meanie," howled Susan, scooping up a fistful of snow and hurling it at Margaret.

Thwack!

Susan's snowball smacked Moody Margaret in the face.

"OWWWW!" screamed Margaret.

"You've blinded me."

"Good!" screamed Susan.

"I hate you!" shouted Margaret, shoving Susan.

"I hate you more!" shouted Susan, pushing Margaret.

Splat! Margaret toppled into the snow. Splat! Susan toppled into the snow. "I'm going home to build my own snowman," sobbed Susan.

"Fine. I'll win without you," said Margaret.

"Will not!"

"Will too! I'm going to win, copycat," shrieked Margaret.

"I'm going to win," shrieked Susan. "I kept my best ideas secret."

"Win? Win what?" demanded Horrid Henry, stomping down his front steps in his snow boots and swaggering over. Henry could hear the word win from miles away.

"Haven't you heard about the competition?" said Sour Susan. "The prize is—"

"Shut up! Don't tell him," shouted Moody Margaret, packing snow onto her snowman's head.

Win? Competition? Prize? Horrid Henry's ears quivered. What secret were they trying to keep from him? Well, not for long. Horrid Henry was an expert at extracting information.

"Oh, the competition. I know all about that," lied Horrid Henry. "Hey, great snowman," he added, strolling casually over to Margaret's snowman and pretending to admire her work.

Now, what should he do? Torture? Margaret's ponytail was always a tempting target. And snow down her sweater would make her talk.

What about blackmail? He could spread some great rumors about Margaret at school. Or...

"Tell me about the competition or the ice guy gets it," said Horrid Henry suddenly, leaping over to the snowman and putting his hands around its neck.

"You wouldn't dare," gasped Moody Margaret.

Henry's mittened hands got ready to push.

"Bye bye, head," hissed Horrid Henry. "Nice knowing you."

Margaret's snowman wobbled. "Stop!" screamed Margaret. "I'll tell you. It doesn't matter 'cause you'll never ever win."

"Keep talking," said Horrid Henry warily, watching out in case Susan tried to ambush him from behind.

"Frosty Freeze is having a best snowman competition," said Moody Margaret, glaring. "The winner gets a year's free supply of ice cream. The judges will decide tomorrow morning. Now get away from my snowman."