WHAT THE WHITE OWL KNEW
the tree. ‘Perhaps the book has wings, perhaps it is a magic book, after all.”
“That was only the old white Owl,” said Half-term, as he bounded away, “the one I caught.”
“Only the old white Owl!” muttered Mrs. Owl. “If he only knew it, I could tell him a pretty tale about the Book of Betty Barber, but they won’t see that again, I know. It’s gone to” And still muttering to herself, Mrs. Owl flew away through the wood.
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