'
'Let's get them all the same,' said Robert. 'We'll go the first
thing on Saturday morning.'
And on Saturday morning, the first thing, they went.
There was no finding the Phoenix, so they sat on the beautiful
wishing carpet, and said--
'We want Indian things for mother's bazaar. Will you please take
us where people will give us heaps of Indian things?'
The docile carpet swirled their senses away, and restored them on
the outskirts of a gleaming white Indian town. They knew it was
Indian at once, by the shape of the domes and roofs; and besides,
a man went by on an elephant, and two English soldiers went along
the road, talking like in Mr Kipling's books--so after that no one
could have any doubt as to where they were. They rolled up the
carpet and Robert carried it, and they walked bodily into the town.
It was very warm, and once more they had to take off their
London-in-November coats, and carry them on their arms.
The streets were narrow and strange, and the clothes of the people
in the streets were stranger and the talk of the people was
strangest of all.
'I can't understand a word,' said Cyril. 'How on earth are we to
ask for things for our bazaar?'
'And they're poor people, too,' said Jane; 'I'm sure they are.
What we want is a rajah or something.
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