ince 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 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 forever, 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."

"You're sick of carrying it," Dicky remarked, "that's what it is." But
he went on condition the rest of us boys went too.

While we were gone the girls dragged the fox to the edge of the wood; it
was a different edge to the one we went in by--close to a lane--and
while they waited for the digging or fatigue party to come back, they
collected a lot of moss and green things to make the fox's long home
soft for it to lie in. There are no flowers in the woods in August,
which is a pity.

When we got back with the spade and fork we dug a hole to bury the fox
in. We did not bring the dogs back, because they were too interested in
the funeral to behave with real, respectable calmness.

The ground was loose and soft and easy to dig when we had scraped away
the broken bits of sticks and the dead leaves and the wild
honey-suckle; Oswald used the fork and Dicky had the spade. Noel made
faces and poetry--he was struck so that morning--and the girls sat
stroking the clean parts of the fox's fur till the grave was deep
enough. At last it was; then Daisy threw in the leaves and grass, and
Alice and Dora took the poor dead fox by his two ends, and we helped to
put him in the grave. We could not lower him slowly--he was dropped in,
really. Then we covered the furry body with leaves, and Noel said the
Burial Ode he had made up. He says this was it, but it sounds better now
than it did then, so I