“And such splendid bushes,” went on Hubert, “for the wicked ogre and his blood-thirsty wife to hide in.”
“Come on,” shouted Phil, “you must all come and play.”
“ ‘I’ll be the ogre’s wife,” volunteered Di, “and Andrew always likes to be the ogre because he’s only got to sit still and receive the live prey as it’s brought in.”
“All right,” said Phil, the master of the ceremonies, “Fay’ll be the infants’ mother, Phoena must be the ogre’s cook, and Jack his caterer, and I’ll be the old man of the wood who’ll side with the infants.”
“At that rate,” objected Jack, “there’ll only be the two kids to bag; there ought to be a better show of game than that.”
“Where’s that French froggy?” asked Andrew, suddenly, “we may as well make him come and play.”
“Yes,” assented Jack, “infants, where’s his Froggy-ship to be found?”
“I think he’s in the orchard,” said Hubert, whilst Marygold added, “But you won’t call him froggy, will you? for he’s a good little boy and very frightened.”
“Oh! is he?” cried Andrew, “then we’ll have some fun with him.”
“Oh! Fay, you won’t let them tease him,” pleaded Marygold, who felt in honour bound, if she betrayed Gaston’s whereabouts, to provide for his safety, “you promise me you won’t.”