A bright cold spring morning. The factory— Charlie's factory— is puttering away marvelously as always. In some distant corridor, Charlie himself is leading one of his usual open-house tours—his idea.

At this moment, Mr. Wonka is dashing between rooms at a frenetic pace, brain boiling over with new ideas. Upon entering the Buttered Pushcorn Room, however, he stalls briefly: he has discovered a blond-haired waif wandering around on his own.

"My word—a fellow admirer!" Mr. Wonka squeaks excitedly over the din. He dashes over and seizes the boy's hand, pumping it up and down vigorously. "Delighted to have you here. Charmed! Overjoyed! Aren't the corncob recombobulators fascinating to watch?"