the way
he always does when he's making poetry. He cannot make one without the
other. It works both ways, which is a comfort.

'What are we going to do now?' H. O. said; 'the huntsman ought to cut
off its tail, I'm quite certain. Only, I've broken the big blade of my
knife, and the other never was any good.'

The girls gave H. O. a shove, and even Oswald said, 'Shut up', for
somehow we all felt we did not want to play fox-hunting any more that
day. When his deadly wound was covered the fox hardly looked dead at
all.

'Oh, I wish it wasn't true!' Alice said.

Daisy had been crying all the time, and now she said, 'I should like to
pray God to make it not true.'

But Dora kissed her, and told her that was no good--only she might pray
God to take care of the fox's poor little babies, if it had had any,
which I believe she has done ever since.

'If only we could wake up and find it was a horrid dream,' Alice said.

It seems silly that we should have cared so much when we had really set
out to hunt foxes with dogs, but it is true. The fox's feet looked so
helpless. And there was a dusty mark on its side that I know would not
have been there if it had been alive and able to wash itself.

Noel now said, 'This is the piece of poetry':

'Here lies poor Reynard who is slain,
He will not come to life again.
I never will the huntsman's horn
Wind since the day that I was born
Until the day I die--
For I don't like hunting, and this is why.'

'Let's have a funeral,' said H. O. This pleased everybody, and we got
Dora to take off her petticoat to wrap the fox in, so that we could
carry it to our garden and bury it without bloodying our jackets. Girls'
clothes are silly in one way, but I think they are useful too. A boy
cannot take off more than his jacket and waistcoat in any emergency,
or he is at once entirely undressed. But I have known Dora take off
two petticoats for useful purposes and look just the same outside
afterwards.

We boys took it in turns to carry the fox. It was very heavy. When we
got near the edge of the wood Noel said--

'It would be better to bury it here, where the leaves can talk funeral
songs over its grave for ever, and the other foxes can come and cry if
they want to.' He dumped the fox down on the moss under a young oak tree
as he spoke.

'If Dicky fetched the spade and fork we could bury it here, and then he
could tie up the dogs at the same time.'

'Yo