“I still think it’s a sort of tree，” said the Warthog.
“If it‘s a tree，” said the other Bear， “there might be a bees’ nest in it.”
“I‘m sure it’s not a tree，” said the Badger. “I had a sort of idea it was trying to speak before it toppled over.”
“That was only the wind in its branches，” said the Warthog.
“You surely don‘t mean，” said the Jackdaw to the Badger， “that you think it’s a talking animal！ It didn‘t say any words.”
“And yet， you know，” said the Elephant （the She.Elephant， of course； her husband， as you remember， had been called away by Aslan）， “and yet， you know， it might be an animal of some kind. Mightn’t the whitish lump at this end be a sort of face？ And couldn‘t those holes be eyes and a mouth？ No nose， of course. But then.ahem.one mustn’t be narrow. minded. Very few of us have what could exactly be called a Nose.” She squinted down the length of her own trunk with pardonable pride.
“I object to that remark very strongly，” said the Bulldog.
“The Elephant is quite right，” said the Tapir.
“I tell you what！” said the Donkey brightly. “perhaps it‘s an animal that can’t talk but thinks it can.”
