'No doubt,' said the bird, politely.
'And the carpet hasn't moved an inch,' said Robert.
'No,' said the Phoenix, 'I see it hasn't.'
'But I thought it was a wishing carpet?'
'So it is,' said the Phoenix.
'Then why--?' asked the children, altogether.
'I did tell you, you know,' said the Phoenix, 'only you are so fond
of listening to the music of your own voices. It is, indeed, the
most lovely music to each of us, and therefore--'
'You did tell us WHAT?' interrupted an Exasperated.
'Why, that the carpet only gives you three wishes a day and YOU'VE
HAD THEM.'
There was a heartfelt silence.
'Then how are we going to get home?' said Cyril, at last.
'I haven't any idea,' replied the Phoenix, kindly. 'Can I fly out
and get you any little thing?'
'How could you carry the money to pay for it?'
'It isn't necessary. Birds always take what they want. It is not
regarded as stealing, except in the case of magpies.'
The children were glad to find they had been right in supposing
this to be the case, on the day when they had wings, and had
enjoyed somebody else's ripe plums.
'Yes; let the Phoenix get us something to eat, anyway,' Robert
urged--' ('If it will be so kind you mean,' corrected Anthea, in a
whisper); 'if it will be so kind, and we can be thinking while it's
gone.
Pages:
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57