"Sure, fine," Anthony grumbled to himself. "I'm so much better than you because I've got this divine statue of Planting and the Tree of Life. And, oh, did I mention, my Master God actually bothers to farm."
Gailard paused awhile before saying in his serious, bassy voice, "The forest is not just inhabited by us elves. There are many other species flourishing in it. I can't just dig out a piece of land and sell its wares to you, and neither can I let you into the forest."
Anthony had anticipated this, so he replied at once, "If the forest isn't just yours to control, why do we have to stay out? Surely we can tip-toe in and dig up a few Axe Potatoes, can't we?"
No," Gailard stated simply.
"Then sell me some more groceries," said Anthony, playing the rascal.
Against such persistently shameless pestering from this seasoned trickster, Gailard, a two-century-old naiad, was quickly compelled to sell him several tons of mixed grains.
