The onlookers growled; the Oak was pale with fury at seeing his authority denied; the Trees and the Animals were indignant, but, as they were cowards, not one of them dared protest; and the Dog would have settled all of them, if he had gone on with his rebellion. But Tyltyl threatened him harshly; and, suddenly yielding to his docile instincts, Tylo lay down at his master's feet. Thus it is that our finest virtues are treated as faults, when we exercise them without discrimination. From that moment, the Children were lost. The Ivy gagged and bound the poor Dog, who was then taken behind the Chestnut-tree and tied to his biggest root. "Now," cried the Oak, in a voice of thunder, "we can take counsel quietly.... This is the first time that it is given us to judge Man! I do not think that, after the monstrous injustice which we have suffered, there can remain the least doubt as to the sentence that awaits him...." One cry rang from every throat: "Death! Death! Death!" The poor Children did not at first understand their doom, for the Trees and Animals, who were more accustomed to talking their own special language, did not speak very distinctly; and, besides, the innocent Children could never imagine such cruelty! "What is the matter with them?" asked the boy. "Are they displeased?" "Don't be alarmed," said the Cat. "They are a little annoyed because Spring is late...." And she went on talking into Tyltyl's ear, to divert his attention from what was happening. While the trusting lad was listening to her fibs, the others were discussing which form of execution would be the most practical and the least dangerous. The Bull suggested a good butt with the horns; the Beech offered his highest branch to hang the little Children on; and the Ivy was already preparing a slip-knot! The Fir-tree was willing to give the four planks for the coffin and the Cypress the perpetual grant of a tomb. "By far the simplest way," whispered the Willow, "would be to drown them in one of my rivers." And the Pig grunted between his teeth: "In my opinion, the great thing would be to eat the little girl.... She ought to be very tender...." "Silence!" roared the Oak. "What we have to decide is which of us shall have the honour of striking the first blow!" "That honour falls to you, our King!" said the Fir-tree. "Alas, I am too old!" replied the Oak. "I am blind and infirm! To you, my evergreen brother, be the glory, in my place, of striking the decisive blow that shall set us free." But the Fir-tree declined the honour on the pretext that he was already to have the pleasure of burying the two victims and that he was afraid of rousing jealousy. He suggested the Beech, as owning the best club. "It is out of the question," said the Beech. "You know I am worm-eaten! Ask the Elm and the Cypress."