John nodded agreement. “Of course, old Loamhedge. That must be the place where the fox is taking our young ones, there or somewhere in the Loamhedge area. I can recall asking Brother Methuselah where Loamhedge was, but even he didn’t know. How are we supposed to find it?”

Cornflower pointed at the stone tablet. “Obviously the answer is in the rhyme, because it says: ‘Take this graven page and seek. What my words in stone could mean.’ Surely that’s a start.”

“Burr, ’scuse me marm, oi thinks it be afore that, even: ‘Somewhere ’twixt our earth’n’sky, burds an’ gentle breezes roam.’ Whurrs that?”

“That’s where we might espy the key, accordin’ to that there,” Ambrose Spike chuckled. “Best look about for a key floatin’ round in midair. Silly, I calls it.”

John looked severely over the top of his glasses. “Silly it may sound, but it’s a serious business, Spike.”

“No need to get huffy, dear,” Mrs. Churchmouse interrupted hastily. “Let’s all look up and see what we discover between earth and sky.”

Winifred Otter summed it up in a word, “Treetops.”

They sat looking at the treetops. Mrs. Churchmouse was just beginning to regret her foolish idea when Cornflower said, “The top of our Abbey, maybe?”

A slow smile spread across the Abbot’s face. “Very clever, Cornflower. What better place for our Founder to leave a clue than at the top of the very building she designed. So, I’m looking up at our Abbey. Tell me, somebeast, what am I looking for?”

The answers came back.

“Something graven deep?”

“Words in stone?”

“Something that can’t fly but has a beak?”

“How about mixed-up letters evergreen?”

“Two Bees and two Ohs?”

“What does an Oh look like?”

“Well, I know what two bees would look like.”

John Churchmouse banged his beaker upon a wooden platter. “Quiet! Quiet, please! All this shouting is getting us nowhere. Cornflower, will you kindly stop baby Rollo playing with that stone tablet!”

Cornflower sat upon the grass with Rollo, who was running his paws over the slim stone.

Mrs. Churchmouse tried to pacify her husband. “Don’t shout, dear. I’m sure Rollo won’t harm it.”

Cornflower was shaking with silent laughter. John was not amused. “I’m sorry, but I fail to see what’s so funny about it, Cornflower.”

“I’m not laughing at you, John, I’m laughing at baby Rollo. Here we are puzzling our brains out and Rollo has found the answer again.”

“Where?”

“Right here on this stone,” Cornflower explained. “Come and look. I didn’t notice it until I watched Rollo passing his paws over the writing. Watch him, you’ll see he stops his paw every time he finds a letter in green.”