So now the children went on through the wood more quickly and comfortably, the girls picking flowers and the Lamb inviting the 'pretty dickies' to observe that he himself was a 'little white real-water-wet duck!' And all this time he hadn't whooping-coughed once.
The path turned and twisted, and, always threading their way amid a tangle of flowers, the children suddenly passed a corner and found themselves in a forest clearing, where there were a lot of pointed huts--the huts, as they knew at once, of SAVAGES.
The boldest heart beat more quickly.

Suppose they WERE cannibals.

It was a long way back to the carpet.
'Hadn't we better go back ?' said Jane.

'Go NOW,' she said, and her voice trembled a little.

'Suppose they eat us.' 'Nonsense, Pussy,' said Cyril, firmly.