‘It’s me!’ said David.
There was a confused whispering within.
‘We can’t stop here all night.’
‘Say you won’t toss him.’
‘You can’t anyhow, because your horns are both broken.’
‘Less noise in there,’ said Noah suddenly, from the next compartment.
The cow began whimpering.
‘I’m a poor old woman,’ she said, ‘and everybody’s very hard on me, considering the milk and butter I’ve given you.’
‘Chalk and water and margarine,’ said the pin-partridge, who had been listening with his ear to the roof. ‘Do say you won’t toss him. I can’t see him, but he’s somewhere close to me.’
‘Very well. I won’t toss him. Open the roof, boy.’