“Once upon a time there was a frog called Mr. Jeremy Fisher; he lived in a little damp house amongst the buttercups at the edge of a pond.
The water was all slippery-sloppy in the larder and in the back passage.
But Mr. Jeremy liked getting his feet wet; nobody ever scolded him, and he never caught a cold!”
″ It was just past nine the next morning when they stepped off the bus on the edge of a large park. Yesterday’s storm, no doubt winter’s last stand, had spread a thick icing of snow over the park. A tenuous path had been tramped through it.”
“Sir, if I were you, so help me God, I would say, ‘turn back ye proud peasants! I have reached the edge of the wood now; the rooster shall stay here. In spite of you I will eat him in faith, and not be long about it.’ ”