Frogged Read Online Free Page B

the edge of her property. Even if . . .” He’d reached the top of the little hill. Well, it was really more of an incline than a hill; it only looked like a hill to someone who was just two and a half inches tall. But in any case, Harry reached the road that led to the mill itself, and he disappeared beyond the corner of the building with never a glance backwards. Her voice dropped to a mutter, and she finished, “Even if you’re too afraid to face her again.”
    Imogene sighed.
    Well, she would just have to
not
be afraid. She would have to get there on her own.
    Imogene began jumping. And jumping. And jumping.
    A pesky gnat made a nuisance of itself by circling her head.
    Imogene fully intended to swat it away, but instead of her hand coming up, her mouth opened and her tongue shot out.
    â€œEch!”
She tried to cough the bug out of her throat, but her throat did the exact opposite of what she wanted—and she swallowed it instead.
    â€œEch! Ech! Ech!”
But it wouldn’t come back up.
    She tried to convince herself that so long as she was a frog, eating a gnat was the same as eating peaches in cream was for her princess self.
    But she wasn’t that easy to fool.
    Just never mind,
she reflected, even though she was still fighting not to gag.
The best thing you can do is to turn back to your princess self as quickly as possible.
    And the best way to do that was to confront the witch as quickly as possible.
    Surely, Imogene theorized, the witch would have to listen to good sense and agree that there was no reason
Imogene
should suffer for what the wainwright’s boy had done.
    But, again, Imogene wasn’t that easy to fool.
    Still, she jumped up the grassy incline that had become a hill and estimated that was about a tenth of the way she had to go. She might have to take a few rests as she traveled, but this was certainly doable.
    She jumped onto the road, since that—being more level than the grassy slope—should be easier.
    Her big froggy eyes caught a movement off to the side, and she hopped back just in time to avoid being run over by the wheel of the cart that the greengrocer was pushing.
    Not becoming a froggy slick on the road would have been indisputably a good thing if only she hadn’t landed on top of the bare foot of the greengrocer’s daughter, a five-year-old who was walking behind and off to the side of the cart and who apparently didn’t like frogs. Or, at least, didn’t like frogs unexpectedly landing on her.
    The girl screamed—which Imogene thought was an overreaction no matter how you looked at it—and kicked her foot up into the air, which flung Imogene back into the grass from which she’d just come.
    The good news was that Imogene landed on something soft.
    The bad news was that she landed on something furry.
    The
really
bad news was that the soft, furry thing she’d landed on was a big orange cat. And the way it was crouched where road met grass—right where Imogene had come out from not more than a jump, a scream, and a kick away—suggested that the cat had, in fact, been stalking her.
    Who could have guessed that such a fat old cat with a frog sitting on its head could move so fast? Or so nimbly?
    First, it jumped straight up into the air as though it, too, had a bit of frog in its makeup.
    With no better plan than not to fall off, Imogene dug her green webbed toes into the orange fur.
    Then, the cat tried to twist itself to get its mouth over to the back of its head.
    With no better plan than not to get eaten, Imogene hunkered down where she was, which seemed as though it had to be the most difficult place for the cat to reach.
    Finally, the cat threw itself into the dust of the road and rolled.
    Too dizzy to have any plan at all, Imogene fell off.
    The cat jumped to its feet.
    Imogene tried to jump to hers, too, but apparently frogs get dizzy faster than cats. Or, in any case, their dizziness lasts