CHAPTER VII.
THE MOVING FOREST.
"Oh, dear!" cried Davy, speaking aloud in his distress, "I do wish people and things wouldn't change about so! Just so soon as ever I get to a place it goes away, and I'm somewhere else!"—and the little boy's heart began to beat rapidly as he looked about him; for the wood was very dark and solemn and still.
Presently the trees and bushes directly before him moved silently apart and showed a broad path beautifully overgrown with soft turf; and as he stepped forward upon it the trees and bushes beyond moved silently aside in their turn, and the path grew before him, as he walked along, like a green carpet slowly unrolling itself through the wood. It made him a little uneasy, at first, to find that the trees behind him came together again, quietly blotting out the path; but then he thought, "It really doesn't matter, so long as I don't want to go back;" and so he walked along very contentedly.
By and by the path seemed to give itself a shake, and, turning abruptly around a large tree, brought Davy suddenly upon a little butcher's shop, snugly buried in the wood. There was a sign on the shop, reading, "Robin Hood: Venison," and Robin himself, wearing a clean white apron over his suit of Lincoln green, stood in the door-way, holding a knife and steel, as though he were on the lookout for customers. As he caught sight of Davy he said, "Steaks? Chops?" in an inquiring way, quite like an every-day butcher.
"Venison is deer, isn't it?" said Davy, looking up at the sign.
"Not at all," said Robin Hood, promptly. "It's the cheapest meat about here."
"Oh, I didn't mean that," replied Davy; "I meant that it comes off of a deer."
"Wrong again!" said Robin Hood, triumphantly. "It comes on a deer. I cut it off myself. Steaks? Chops?"
"No, I thank you," said Davy, giving up the argument. "I don't think I want anything to eat just now."