Uncertainty blows through the treetops. Goats, owls and hedgehogs vie to get the ear of the squirrels. Will Billigotoff out twit the old featherless owl? Will the pigs ever get their snouts out of the trough? Who will the squirrels follow over the bridge to green, green grass? Will the hedgehogs sit astride the fulcrum upon the teetering bridge? Does the green, green grass over the other side of the bridge really exist? Who will be desperate enough to summon up the Troll from the murky depths beneath the crossing?
