In a few minutes Digory came to the edge of the wood and there he stopped. The Lion was singing still. But now the song had once more changed. It was more like what we should call a tune， but it was also far wilder. It made you want to run and jump and climb. It made you want to shout. It made you want to rush at other people and either hug them or fight them. It made Digory hot and red in the face. It had some effect on Uncle Andrew， for Digory could hear him saying， “A spirited gel， sir. It‘s a pity about her temper， but a dem fine woman all the same， a dem fine woman.” But what the song did to the two humans was nothing compared with what it was doing to the country.
