The watervole trudged on unappeased. “Ho yiss yiss, ’tis nonsense all right, no mistakin’ that. Grr! Listen, mister wasp, keep away from my nose or I’ll eat ye!”

Dann could not restrain himself from laughing at Burble. “Chattin’ to wasps now, Burb? Come on, you old grouch, let’s see if you can sing us a song that makes sense.”

Burble sniffed. “All watervole songs make sense. Lissen.

“A watervole grows like an ould bulrush stalk,

An’ learns to swim afore ’e can walk,

Just give ’im a paddle an’ lend ’im a boat,

There’s nought as nice as a vole wot’s afloat.

Go ruggle yore tookle an’ rowgle yer blot,

Come floogle yore wattle an’ pickle yer swot!

A watervole’s clever’n’smart an’ he’s nice,

’E won’t take a boat out onto the ice,

But ’e’ll live all ’is life in a comfy ould cave,

An’ when ’e dies it’ll do fer ’is grave.

So twangle me gurdle an’ griddle me twogg,

Right burgle me doodle an’ frumple me plogg!”

Dippler tried to keep a straight face as he nodded wisely. “Burgle me doodle an’ frumple me plogg? Makes perfect sense. Wot d’you think, Dann?”

A deep booming voice that did not belong to Dann rang out. “Hohohoho! Now I’ve seen everythin’, a singin’ boat! Hoohoohoo!”

The four friends whipped the Swallow off their heads to see who it was.

The hugest, fattest, most spiky hedgehog that any of them had ever seen was lying in an immense hammock, slung between a beech and an elm. Spikes and quills stuck through the coarse canvas of the hammock, making it look like a monstrous pincushion. He had two baskets, one on either side of the hammock, containing wild grapes and almonds. In his paw he brandished a giant mallet to crack the nuts with, and this he waved cheerily at the travelers.

“Good noontide to ye. Fancy some grapes? A few nuts, mebbe? Come sit an’ rest yoreselves, pore liddle waifs!”

Song smiled and waved back prettily to him, commenting to the others, “We could do with a rest. What d’you say, pore liddle waifs?”

With a grunt and a groan the big hedgehog heaved himself out of the hammock and bowed politely. “I go by the name o’ Soll. Full name’s Sollertree, ’cos I’m the only ’edge’og in these parts. Now wot be yore given names, me liddle h’infants?”

Song introduced herself and her friends. “I’m Song, he’s Dann and that’s Burble and Dippler. Excuse me, sir, but shouldn’t your name be Solitary?”

The big fellow waved a paw airily. “Solitary, Sollertree, wot difference, pretty one, save that Sollertree’s the name I gave meself, an’ I like it fine. Come, sit ye down on my ’ammock. A more comfy berth y’never found, eh?”