“Oh， don‘t， don’t， please 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 （one with its stone fork fixed for ever halfway to its stone mouth） seated around a stone table 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.mounted the 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 himself. It seemed so pitiful to think of those 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.
