The hammer rang once. A spark jumped off the anvil and did not go out. It waited. They followed.

It rolled into the print shop and settled on the big black press. It was Tuesday. On Friday at four, Brightfield School's paper would go to print.

On the press, the old bolted plate still showed its tiny hammer.

Danya was at the desk, making a list of stories. Beto was folding last week's papers.

The door banged open. It was Bran, waving a bright yellow flyer.

"Front page!" said Bran. "Everybody's saying it!"

The flyer said, in huge letters: NINE OUT OF TEN PUPILS LOVE THE NEW LUNCH MENU!

"It's from the food committee," said Bran. "Nine people can't be wrong!"

Beto grabbed the flyer. "Nine out of ten is ninety per cent," he said. "That's a great headline."

He started laying out the front page. 90% LOVE NEW MENU.

A small glossy starling landed on the desk. She had a little cloth scoop over her wing. Her name was Cull.

"Who were the ten?" asked Cull.

Beto stopped. "What do you mean?"

"Nine out of ten what?" said Cull. "Nine out of ten pupils in the school? Or nine out of ten people somebody happened to ask?"

Danya leaned over. "How do we know?" he said. "We don't. Not yet."

Who were the ten? Think about it before you turn the page.

Cull found the survey sheet pinned to the food committee's noticeboard. Ten names. Ten ticks.

Danya read the names. He frowned. "These are all on the food committee."

"The ten people who chose the menu," said Cull. "Of course they like it."

"So it's a lie?" said Beto.

"It's true about those ten," said Cull. "It's not true about the school. A sample is a scoop, not the sack. It only tells you about the sack if the scoop could have come from anywhere."

"Then how do we scoop fairly?" asked Danya.

"Everyone needs the same chance," said Cull. "Get the register."

The register had three hundred names. "Every tenth name on the list," said Cull. "Start anywhere in the first ten, then count on in tens."

Danya ticked them. Thirty names. Some he knew. Most he didn't.

A magpie in a little press vest hopped onto the windowsill. It was Source.

"Who would actually know?" said Source. "The thirty. So go and ask them."

On Wednesday and Thursday they asked at lunch. One question, the same words every time: "Do you like the new lunch menu, yes or no?"

Some said yes straight away. Some said no. One boy said, "Only on pizza days." They wrote that down as a no.

One girl on the list was off sick on Wednesday. Beto wanted to ask her best friend instead.

"Same chance, same person," said Cull. "We wait for her."

They found her on Thursday morning by the gate.

On Thursday afternoon, Beto counted the ticks.

"Eighteen yes," he said. "Out of thirty."

"Eighteen of thirty is sixty per cent," said Danya. "Six in ten."

"Not ninety," said Beto.

"Not ninety," said Cull.

At ten to four on Friday, Danya wrote the headline.

SIX IN TEN LIKE NEW MENU

Underneath, in smaller type: We asked 30 pupils, picked from the register. The food committee's own survey asked its ten members.

Bran read it over his shoulder. "That's still most people," he said.

"It is," said Danya. "And now we know it."

The press thumped. Beto pinned the survey sheet with thirty names to the newsroom wall.

Back on the Green

The spark dimmed to a warm dot and settled back on the anvil. The Green was just the Green again.

At home, an advert on the bus stop said that four out of five dentists liked a toothpaste.

"Which five?" said Beto.