“What is the meaning of this?”asked the Witch Queen.Nobody answered.
“Speak, vermin！”she said again.“Or do you want my dwarf to find you a toh his whip?What is the meaning of all this gluttony, this waste, this lf-indulgence?Where did you get all the things?”
“Plea, your Majesty,”said the Fox.“we were given them.And if I might make so bold as to drink your Majesty’s very good health—”
“Who gave them to you?”said the Witch.
“F-F-F-Father Christmas,”stammered the Fox.
“What?”roared the Witch, springing from the sledge and taking a few strides o the terrified animals.“He has not been here！He ot have been here！How dare you—but no.Say you have been lying and you shall even now be fiven.”
At that moment one of the young squirrels lost its head pletely.
“He has—he has—he has！”it squeaked, beating its little spoon oable.Edmund saw the Witch bite her lips so that a drop of blood appeared on her white cheek.Then she raid her wand.“Oh, don’t, don’t, plea don’t,”shouted Edmund, but even while he was shouting she had waved her wand and instantly where the merry party had been there were only statues of creatures（oh its stone fork fixed forever half-way to its stone mouth）ated round a stoable on which there were stone plates and a stone plum pudding.
“As for you,”said the Witch, giving Edmund a stunning blow on the face as she re-mouhe sledge.“let that teach you to ask favour for spies and traitors.Drive on！”And Edmund for the first time in this story felt sorry for someone besides himlf.It emed so pitiful to think of tho little stone figures sitting there all the silent days and all the dark nights, year after year, till the moss grew on them and at last even their faces crumbled away.