And they fought and squabbled what they should do with her, till a pale
grey light began to come in the sky; and it drew nigh the dawning. And
when they saw that, they were feared lest they shouldn't have time to
work their will; and they caught hold of her, with horrid bony fingers,
and laid her deep in the water at the foot of the snag. And the Bogles
fetched a strange big stone and rolled it on top of her, to keep her
from rising. And they told two of the Will-o-the-wykes to take turns in
watching on the black snag, to see that she lay safe and still, and
couldn't get out to spoil their sport.
And there lay the poor Moon, dead and buried in the bog, till some one
would set her loose; and who'd know where to look for her.
Well, the days passed, and 't was the time for the new moon's coming,
and the folk put pennies in their pockets and straws in their caps so as
to be ready for her, and looked about, for the Moon was a good friend to
the marsh folk, and they were main glad when the dark time was gone, and
the paths were safe again, and the Evil Things were driven back by the
blessed Light into the darkness and the waterholes.
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