And Zimkhitha stopped laughing and floated down fifty metres. But as she looked at the huge traffic jam and the TV crew and the thousands of people watching her, she started to laugh again. And up she went again.

The kind woman shook her head. “We’re going to have to be a little bit meaner,” she said firmly. “Any minute now the wind will catch her, and she will float away forever. What is the worst thing you can think of to say to her?”

They all put their heads together and thought and thought and thought. Finally they had it.

“Altogether now,” called Zimkhitha’s dad, standing on the roof of a Mercedes Benz. “Everybody shout as loudly as you can, all at once.”

And the whole crowd of four thousand people, and the yellow dog, and the black cat, and the man selling bananas all shouted at once, “HEY ZIMKHITHA! WE CAN SEE YOUR PANTIES, AND THERE’S A HOLE IN THEM!”

And Zimkhitha stopped laughing.

Down she came. Down, down, down. Even further down, and further down and further down, until finally she was almost on the ground.

“My precious baby!” cried her mom, grabbing her legs and pulling her back to Earth. “Thank goodness you’re safe!”

Zimkhitha looked at the crowd of people all cheering and laughing and clapping their hands. She was so embarrassed that she covered her face and ran home.

“Oh dear,” said her dad. “We’ve hurt her feelings. She’s very upset.”

So the people put their heads together again and thought of the right thing to say to cheer her up.

“Altogether now,” called her mom.

And they shouted, “HEY, ZIMKHITHA! WE WERE ONLY JOKING!”

Zimkhitha stopped running.

“WE PROMISE YOU!” they all shouted. “WE COULDN’T REALLY SEE YOUR PANTIES, BECAUSE YOU’RE WEARING PINK TROUSERS!”

And Zimkhitha started to laugh.

“Oops, grab her quickly,” shouted her mom.

And they did. Just in time.