“I wish I was a fish,” said the Wart.
“What sort of fish?” asked Merlyn.
It was almost too hot to think about this, but the Wart stared down into the cool amber depths where a school of small perch were aimlessly hanging about.
“I think I should like to be a perch,” he said. “They are braver than the silly roach and not quite so slaughterous as the pike are.”