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Queenie moved again, her feet began to clop-clop steadily again, and at once Ben hushed.

Nothing destroys an atmosphere of lightness and grace like the clop-clop of hard pointe shoes.

As nightfall quickened, my sense of vulnerability was heightened by the clop-clop of my sandals on the cobblestone streets.

Once again, Harriet, the small girl in the tow-linen shirt, barefooted, feet not touching the floor of the wagon, sat listening to the clop-clop of horses’ hoofs, listening to the creak of a wagon that was carrying her farther and farther away from home.

Harriet sat in the wagon, frightened, listening to the clop-clop of the horses’ feet.