The_Complete_Chronicles_of_Narnia_(volumes_1-7,_in_order_of_publication)

Narnia came over her. She knew exactly how each of these trees would talk if only she
could wake them, and what sort of human form it would put on. She looked at a silver
birch: it would have a soft, showery voice and would look like a slender girl, with hair
blown all about her face, and fond of dancing. She looked at the oak: he would be a
wizened, but hearty old man with a frizzled beard and warts on his face and hands, and
hair growing out of the warts. She looked at the beech under which she was standing. Ah!
she would be the best of all. She would be a gracious goddess, smooth and stately, the
lady of the wood.
"Oh, Trees, Trees, Trees," said Lucy (though she had not been intending to speak at all).
"Oh, Trees, wake, wake, wake. Don't you remember it? Don't you remember me? Dryads
and Hamadryads, come out, come to me."
Though there was not a breath of wind they all stirred about her. The rustling noise of the
leaves was almost like words. The nightingale stopped singing as if to listen to it.
Lucy felt that at any moment she would begin to understand what the trees were trying to
say. But the moment did not come. The rustling died away. The nightingale resumed its
song. Even in the moonlight the wood looked more ordinary again. Yet Lucy had the
feeling (as you sometimes have when you are trying to remember a name or a date and
almost get it, but it vanishes before you really do) that she had just missed something: as
if she had spoken to the trees a split second too soon or a split second too late, or used all
the right words except one, or put in one word that was just wrong.
Quite suddenly she began to feel tired. She went back to the bivouac, snuggled down
between Susan and Peter, and was asleep in a few minutes.
It was a cold and cheerless waking for them all next morning, with a grey twilight in the
wood (for the sun had not yet risen) and everything damp and dirty.
"Apples, heigh-ho," said Trumpkin with a rueful grin. "I must say you ancient kings and
queens don't overfeed your courtiers!"
They stood up and shook themselves and looked about. The trees were thick and they
could see no more than a few yards in any direction.
"I suppose your Majesties know the way all right?" said the Dwarf.
"I don't," said Susan. "I've never seen these woods in my life before. In fact I thought all
along that we ought to have gone by the river."
"Then I think you might have said so at the time," answered Peter, with pardonable
sharpness.
"Oh, don't take any notice of her," said Edmund. "She always is a wet blanket. You've got
that pocket compass of yours, Peter, haven't you? Well, then, we're as right as rain. We've