“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. [Illustration: “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!” they shouted all together. One taller than the rest leaned over and seized Wag by the ear with its twisted fingers. “Help!” screamed Wag, kicking out with his hind legs. Immediately Kabumpo began laying about with his trunk. “Stand back!” he trumpeted angrily, “or I’ll trample you to splinters.” Pompa stood up on Kabumpo’s back and began to wave his sword threateningly. At this the ugly creatures grew simply furious. They snatched at the Prince with their long, claw-like branches, tearing at his sadly scorched hair and almost upsetting him. “Stop! Stop!” cried Peg Amy, waving her wooden arms frantically. “Don’t hit him. He’s going to be married. Hit me, I’m only made of wood!” “Don’t you dare hit her!” shrilled Pompa, slicing off the branch head of the nearest Twig. “I am a Prince and she is under my protection. Don’t touch her!” By this time Kabumpo had cleared himself a space ahead and Wag a space behind. Every time Kabumpo’s trunk flew out, a dozen of the queer crackly Bushmen tumbled over forward and every time Wag’s heels flew out a dozen crumpled over backward. Pompa kept his sword whirling and, after several had lost top branches, the whole crowd fell back and began grumbling together. “Now then!” puffed Kabumpo angrily, “let’s make a dash for it, Wag. Come on; we’ll smash them to kindling wood!” “What’s all this commotion?” cried a loud voice. The Twigs fell back immediately and a bent and twisted old tree hobbled forward. “Strangers, your Woodjesty,” whispered a tall Twig, waving a branch at Kabumpo. “Well, have you pinched them?” asked the King in a bored voice. “A little,” admitted the tall Twig nervously, “but they object to it, your Woodjesty.” “Well, what if they do?” rasped the King tartly. “Don’t be gormish Faggots. You know I detest gormishness. It seems to me you might allow my people a little innocent diversion,” he grumbled, turning to Pompa, “they don’t get much pleasure!” “Pleasure!” gasped the Prince, while Kabumpo and Wag were so astonished that they forgot to fight.