“Ho！ Hempress， are you？ We’ll see about that，” said a voice. Then another voice said， “Three cheers for the Hempress of Colney ‘Atch” and quite a number joined in. A flush of colour came into the Witch’s face and she bowed ever so slightly. But the cheers died away into roars of laughter and she saw that they had only been making fun of her. A change came over her expression and she changed the knife to her left hand. Then， without warning， she did a thing that was dreadful to see. Lightly， easily， as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world， she stretched up her right arm and wrenched off one of the cross.bars of the lamp. post. If she had lost some magical powers in our world， she had not lost her strength； she could break an iron bar as if it were a stick of barley.sugar. She tossed her new weapon up in the air， caught it again， brandished it， and urged the horse forward.
“Now‘s my chance，” thought Digory. He darted between the horse and the railings and began going forward. If only the brute would stay still for a moment he might catch the Witch’s heel. As he rushed， he heard a sickening crash and a thud. The Witch had brought the bar down on the chief policeman‘s helmet： the man fell like a ninepin.
