stayed, tilted perilously sidewise, snivelling with fear and pain and ringing her bell loudly for help.
This time the Lion heard her. For all that he was a Lion, the nearness of those rats, and their long white teeth, made him strangely uncomfortable inside, and he was only too glad of any excuse to move away.
Tenderly he helped Anna out of the pit, and dried her tears, and together they stood in the moonlight side by side.
“If you would only flee with me to the jungle, dear Anna,” the Lion murmured for the hundred and first time, “this sort of thing wouldn’t happen!”
“I’m always fleeing,” returned Anna pettishly, for her back still smarted where the stick had hit it, “and look what comes of it! Even my green meadow is no longer safe nowadays! Not but what one might as well be in the jungle and have done with it,” she added rather more graciously, “with all those nasty rats about!”
And bending her head to simper at the Lion, she released it rather too suddenly, producing a loud and prolonged “baa-a-a!” which startled even herself.
“Your voice is like music,” the Lion whispered, gazing at her adoringly.
And Anna simpered again.
The carpenter rats had worked so hard that by now they had nearly bitten through the tree. The toys stood round, breathless with excitement, while the sawdust fell faster
