"France?" said the King; "this must be looked to. The place is being overrun with aliens. Undo them, Natterjack."
The Natterjack looked pained.
"Sire," he gasped out, "they're poisonous. I bit one once, and could not sing for days."
"Could not sing for days?" said the King. "Could not sing for days?" The shadow of a smile played round his mouth.
"Just fetch me that French Frog," he said.
"Sire," said the Natterjack, "it was during our unsuccessful search for him that we had the felicity of being so graciously received by your Majesty."
"You know him then," said the King, frowning.
"The fire-toads know his song, Sire. At least they said he was a countryman."
"They shall be made better acquainted," said the King, "much better acquainted. You will find the French Frog by the water's edge, beneath the furze-bush. You may go."
The Natterjack went scudding like a mouse.