This thought, and the gleam of the lovely pearls Kabumpo had given her, so cheered Peg that she began to hum a queer, squeaky little song. The country was growing rougher and more hilly every minute. The sunny farmlands lay far behind them now and as Peg finished her song they came to the edge of a queer, dead-looking forest. The trees were dry and without leaves and there were quantities of stiff bushes and short stunted little trees standing under the taller ones.
Peg had an odd feeling that hundreds of eyes were staring out at them but the forest was so dim that she couldn’t be sure. There was not a sound but the crackling of the dead branches under Wag’s and Kabumpo’s feet.
“I don’t like this,” choked Wag. “My wocks and hoop soons! What a pleerful chase!”
“It isn’t very cheerful,” shivered Peg. “Oh, look, Wag! That big tree has eyes!” At Peg’s remark the tree doubled up its branches into fists and stepped right out in front of them. At the same instant all the other trees and bushes moved closer, with dry crackling steps.
“Now we have you!” snapped the tallest tree in a dreadful voice.
“Now we have you!” snapped the tallest tree in a dreadful voice
“Now we have you!” crackled all the other skitter-witchy creatures, crowding closer.
“Pigs, pigs, we’re the twigs;
We’ll tweak your ears and snatch your wigs!”