hard. Mr. Mistletoe used to bring an axe and chop up limbs of dead trees to take home for his fireplace. Dame Quickly, the old Dodge car, often drove right down to the edge of the pond so that he could load her with firewood. New houses were built not far away, but all the frogs got together and made such queer noises at night that people were afraid to come and live in them. We sang the Mortgage Song, which always alarms people when they hear it sung at midnight in a minor key. The magic of the place was strong, and it kept its perfect loneliness. But then one day an amazing thing happened. Perhaps we had sung the Mortgage Song too loud, and aroused some realtor's resentment. The pond disappeared."
"Disappeared?" exclaimed some of the animals, greatly shocked, while others, who knew about it, nodded their heads.
"Absolutely disappeared," repeated Basso solemnly. "We haven't quite got over the shock of it yet. Some workmen came one day, and dug a trench, and in a few hours the water all ran out. It drained down into that other pond, across the Mineola Road, and left only a big mudhole. When Mr. Mistletoe came down he was dreadfully upset, he walked about like a man in a daze.
