The blacksmith patted Twinkleheels and picked up one of his forefeet. Then the blacksmith took a chisel and began to pare away at the horny hoof. Twinkleheels looked over the blacksmith's shoulder. And what he saw gave him a start.
"Great green grass!" he cried to Ebenezer. "Is he going to cut my foot off?"
"No, indeed!" Ebenezer answered. "The blacksmith always pares my feet a bit when he fits new shoes.
