Meanwhile the dwarf whipped up the reindeer, and the Witch and Edmund drove out under the archway and on and away into the darkness and the cold.
This was a terrible journey for Edmund, who had no coat.
Before they had been going quarter of an hour all the front of him was covered with snow—he soon stopped trying to shake it off because, as quickly as he did that, a new lot gathered, and he was so tired.
Soon he was wet to the skin.
And oh, how miserable he was!
It didn’t look now as if the Witch intended to make him a King.
All the things he had said to make himself believe that she was good and kind and that her side was really the right side sounded to him silly now.
He would have given anything to meet the others at this moment—even Peter!
The only way to comfort himself now was to try to believe that the whole thing was a dream and that he might wake up at any moment.
And as they went on, hour after hour, it did come to seem like a dream.
This lasted longer than I could describe even if I wrote pages and pages about it.
But I will skip on to the time when the snow had stopped and the morning had come and they were racing along in the daylight.
And still they went on and on, with no sound but the everlasting swish of the snow and the creaking of the reindeer’s harness.
And then at last the Witch said,
“What have we here?
Stop!” and they did.
How Edmund hoped she was going to say something about breakfast!
But she had stopped for quite a different reason.
A little way off at the foot of a tree sat a merry party, a squirrel and his wife with their children and two satyrs and a dwarf and an old dog-fox, all on stools round a table.
Edmund couldn’t quite see what they were eating, but it smelled lovely and there seemed to be decorations of holly and he wasn’t at all sure that he didn’t see something like a plum pudding.
At the moment when the sledge stopped, the Fox, who was obviously the oldest person present, had just risen to its feet, holding a glass in its right paw as if it was going to say something.
But when the whole party saw the sledge stopping and who was in it, all the gaiety went out of their faces.
The father squirrel stopped eating with his fork halfway to his mouth and one of the satyrs stopped with its fork actually in its mouth, and the baby squirrels squeaked with terror.
“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 tongue with his whip?
What is the meaning of all this gluttony, this waste, this self-indulgence?
Where did you get all these things?”
“Please, 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 nearer to the terrified animals.
“He has not been here!
He cannot have been here!
How dare you—but no. Say you have been lying and you shall even now be forgiven.”
At that moment one of the young squirrels lost its head completely.
“He has—he has—he has!” it squeaked, beating its little spoon on the table.
Edmund saw the Witch bite her lips so that a drop of blood appeared on her white cheek.
Then she raised her wand.
“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 forever halfway to its stone mouth) seated round 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 favor 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.
Now they were steadily racing on again.
And soon Edmund noticed that the snow which splashed against them as they rushed through it was much wetter than it had been all last night.
At the same time he noticed that he was feeling much less cold.
It was also becoming foggy.