"How well you tell a story, Cyril," she said simply.
Cyril smiled contentedly. "That's nothing."
Then she inquired anxiously: "Do you think it was the Wizard's trick, that losing of the stone?"
"P'raps," replied Cyril musingly. "He's quite ugly enough for anything. But I don't think so," he added reassuringly; "it must have been an accident—got loose, or something."
Dulcie's mind being eased, she then told her own story as a mole. She couldn't remember the Porcupine's verses exactly, but she repeated what she could, and they had a good laugh over them;—before, she had been blind to the fun in them. "I repeated them to Molly," continued Dulcie, rippling over with fun, "and she was so offended she vowed she'd never marry him. So I cured him of his vanity—and serve him right!"
"But why did the Hedgehog titter? That was what you wanted to find out, wasn't it?" asked Cyril.
"I suppose it was expecting the Porcupine's verses."
"Suppose?"
"I forgot to ask."
Cyril expressed his opinion that she had been a softy, that those creatures weren't worth while chumming up with, and they couldn't have much sense, and it didn't matter, after all, what they thought or did.