“The moon!” cried Miss Wren, “you'll never reach it.”
“I flew ever so high one evening and I didn't seem to get any nearer.”
“Well,” said Willie, “why should it be made of green cheese if you can't reach it?” And on he went.
Presently he came up to a wood, and looking up he saw Mr. Squirrel jumping from branch to branch.
“Good afternoon,” he said.
“You do seem high up. Surely you can tell me the way to the moon. It's made of green cheese, you know.”
