① You'll be something fine, said Bok to the tree, though I don't know just what it is, not yet. ② Well then, said the tree: a plank, an oar, a mast for the dory that rides the long green sea. ③ Could be, said Bok, thumb on the blade, thinking. Could be any of those things, and more. ④ But cursed am I, said the tree, among my own folk, if I be made the handle of an ax.