to have been born a poplar tree; a human body was a gift wasted on her.

As they passed along the Green Ride, the red light from the Horse
Vivian's neck made a sort of heralding ghost before them on the grass.
Bats darted above them for a few yards at a time, and were twitched
aside as though by a string or a reminding conscience. The telegraph
wires, bound for the post office of Faery, run through the Enchanted
Forest, and the poles in the faint light were like tall crucifixes. A
long way off, through the opening at the end of the Forest, were the
little lights of Mitten Island.

"Do you know," said Richard--and this is unfortunately the sort of thing
that young men do say at silent and enchanted moments--"that if all the
magic in this Forest were collected together and compressed into a
liquid form, it would be enough to stop the War in one moment?"

"My hat!" said Sarah Brown. "In one moment?"

"In one moment."

"My hat!" said Sarah Brown.

"The powers of magic haven't been anything like thoroughly estimated
even yet," said Richard.

"I suppose the War was made by black magic," suggested Sarah Brown,
trying to talk intelligently and to be faithful to her own thoughts at
the same time.

"Good Lord, no," replied Richard. "The worst of this war is that it has