Chapter IV: Part 4

The King avoided her eyes. It was very hard not to give in and smile too, when Dimples looked like that. After all, he reflected, if Dimples was a girl and did not understand things properly, she made an excellent playfellow; and the most wonderful palace in the world might grow a little dull if there were only wooden soldiers to share it with. So the King made up his mind, and took the prisoner by one hand and waved his other in a royal manner to the captain.

"I will talk it over with the prisoner," he announced, "so do not let us be disturbed. And you need not take any more prisoners without consulting me," he added hastily, for he really feared that his nurse might be the next prisoner, and then, where would be the fun of being a king at all?

"Now, let us go and explore your palace," said Dimples, impatiently; and the captain was left on the bottom brick to get over his disappointment.

It would be impossible to describe how the two children wandered over the fairy palace that the Prince had built; how they climbed from one floor to another; how they dropped from arch to pillar; how they wound their way in and out of delightful passages, finding fresh secret rooms as they went; how from one window they looked down on the vast nursery tableland and from another caught a glimpse of the towering rocking-horse; how they quite forgot they were King and prisoner, and stood at last, hand in hand, on the battlements of the highest tower and told each other what fun it was to play in a real fairy palace.

The toy captain, however, had not forgotten anything; and when he saw them talking in this familiar manner on the battlements--which he could easily do from his position on the bottom brick, so cleverly was this wonderful palace built--he felt it was high time to interfere.

"Has your Majesty decided how to punish the prisoner?" asked the toy captain, holding himself in his very stiffest manner and raising his voice sufficiently to be heard on the battlements.

The King looked at the prisoner, and the prisoner laughed at the King.

"Well," said Dimples, demurely, "_has_ your Majesty made up his mind?"

"Oh, _don't_!" whispered his Majesty, crossly. "You know I can't behave like a king if you laugh at me!" Then he folded his arms and looked down at the captain. "I have decided not to punish the prisoner at all," he said solemnly.

"What!" cried the captain, furiously. "You are not going to punish the prisoner at all?"

"No," said his Majesty, growing bolder; "and what is more, I am going to have you beheaded for interfering in the King's private affairs!"

Even Dimples felt a little nervous when she saw the look that crept over the captain's face.

"Oh, dear," she whispered to the Prince, "that is how he looked yesterday when I said he wasn't real. Would it not be wiser to make friends with him?"

But her little playfellow was looking as he had looked when he first entered his palace. "A king," he said grandly, "makes neither friends nor enemies. The captain is only my toy, and I can do as I will with him."

The captain's fury knew no bounds when he overheard this. "That is what comes of having a king who is not made of wood," he said. "But you have forgotten one thing, your Majesty!"

"And what is that?" asked the King, smiling.

"The bottom brick," said the toy captain, as he stooped and pulled it out.

Truly, there had never been such a shatter and a clatter and a tumble as when the toy captain pulled out the bottom brick of the Prince's palace! And in the midst of it all the children felt themselves falling and falling and falling. And louder than it all sounded the mocking laughter of the toy captain.

* * * * *

"Some people would say it was only a dream," observed Prince Picotee, the next morning, as they stood over the ruins on the nursery floor.

"It can't have been a dream," answered Dimples, who was always practical, "because here is the head of the toy captain."

"And here," added the Prince, bending down, "is his body. So he _was_ beheaded after all!"

"I wish," sighed Dimples, "that it could all come over again."

"It will some day," the Prince assured her, "when I am King and have built another palace like this one."

"But I shall not be there," pouted Dimples, "because you won't have any girls in your palace."

Prince Picotee kicked the headless captain about the floor thoughtfully. "Well, I'm not quite sure," he said, growing a little red. "Perhaps I'll have one girl."

"Will you?" laughed Dimples. "But what if she pulls down your wonderful palace?"

"Ah," said Prince Picotee, gravely, "I shall not tell her about the bottom brick!"

The Lady Daffodilia

No one in the whole kingdom was so idle, or so careless, or so thoughtless as the Lady Daffodilia. The only thing she had done ever since she was born was to grow and grow and grow, so that, although she was only twelve years old, she was quite as tall as the Countess, her mother. In fact, she was tall enough to be conceited about it, which, of course, was extremely foolish of her, for she had certainly had nothing to do with it herself.

"You are a whole year older than I am, but I am a head taller than you," was what she said to Prince Brilliant, when he came to play with her, one day. She was perched on the garden wall at the time, so she was able to look down on the little Prince even more than usual.

"Hush!" said the Countess, who was drinking tea on the lawn. "That is not the way to speak to a Prince."

Prince Brilliant stuck his chin into the air and tried to make the most of his height.

"I don't care a bit," he said; "I wouldn't have silly long legs like yours for anything. It's much better to know things; and only think of all the things I know that you never heard of! You couldn't even say the exports and imports of Fairyland without looking in the book first; now, could you?"

"Hush!" said his Queen-mother, who was also drinking tea on the lawn. "That is not the way to speak to a little lady."

The Lady Daffodilia stooped a little, and smoothed out the creases in her black silk stockings, just to show that she had not forgotten how much longer her legs were than the Prince's. The Prince pretended not to see.

"What you say is very true," then said Daffodilia, who was always fair, even when she was most aggravating; "but I am better off than you, all the same. I can go and look in the book if I want to know all those tiresome stuffy things you think such a lot about; but all the books in the world won't make you so tall as I am!"

The Prince was much annoyed, for there was no doubt that the Lady Daffodilia had the best of the argument. He aimed a most unprincely kick at a harmless geranium plant, that, like the Lady Daffodilia, had never done anything in its life but grow; and he turned very red in the face.

"You're only a girl," he said; "and girls think too much of themselves. That's what my Professor says!"

"If _you_ were a girl," laughed the Lady Daffodilia, "it would not matter about your being such a little bit of a thing! Is it not very unpleasant to be so short, when you are a boy?"

The Prince turned and walked quickly towards the garden gate. It was true that he was a prince, and could not therefore be rude to the Lady Daffodilia; but he was a boy, too, and if he had stopped another minute he was quite certain he would have lifted her down from the wall and given her a good shaking.

"Where are you going?" she cried after him, and laughed more than ever when she saw how cross she had made him.

"Where are you going?" echoed the Queen and the Countess.

Prince Brilliant turned when he reached the gate, and faced them all with a resolute look on his small, round face.

"I am going to find out the way to grow tall," he said. "I shall not come back until I am as tall as the Lady Daffodilia."

Then he went through the gate and slammed it behind him, and marched away down the hot, dusty road. The Queen and the Countess only smiled, for they did not suppose he had gone for good; but the Lady Daffodilia slipped down from the wall and on to the grass lawn, and began to weep.

"I have sent away my favourite Prince," she sobbed, "and I shall never have him to play with again."

"Do not cry, little daughter," said the Countess, soothingly; "your Prince will come back soon."

"You do not know him so well as I do," said Daffodilia. "He always means what he says; and since it is quite certain that nothing can ever make him as tall as I am, it is quite certain that he will never come back any more."

It seemed as though her words were likely to come true, for the Prince had not returned by bedtime; and, although the King's messengers rode out that very night and hunted the whole country up and down for days and weeks and years, not a trace was ever found of the little Prince who had gone to learn the way to grow tall. So the kingdom was left without an heir to the throne, and the Lady Daffodilia was left without a playfellow. It was not her way, however, to sit down and cry about it, besides which she had found something really important to do at last.

"If the Prince has gone away to grow as tall as I am," she said, "_I_ will stay at home and grow as clever as he is!"

So she shut herself up in the Count's library with a pile of dusty books, and tried her very best to learn the exports and imports of Fairyland. But as fast as she learned one she forgot the other; and she ended by completely jumbling them up, which was really a serious matter, for it is quite evident that the things we give to Fairyland are not at all the same things as Fairyland gives to us. And then, long before the Lady Daffodilia had grown as clever as the Prince, the people came and clapped her into prison, "for," they said, "it is your fault that the heir to the throne is lost." It is true that they did not put her into a very unpleasant prison, for it was a nice, comfortable old castle, in the middle of a green plain; but there was no one to play with and no one to tease, so it was most decidedly a prison. Added to this, the Lady Daffodilia seemed to have stopped growing at last, for she never grew another inch after the Prince went away; and as this robbed her of her only occupation, she began for the first time in her life to long for something to do. And she grew so tired of looking at the same green plain day after day, that she determined to make it into a garden for a change; and the flowers and the shrubs were so proud of being planted by such dainty, white hands that they tried their very hardest to grow up nicely and be a credit to her; and the result was that the little lady in the castle soon became known as the most wonderful gardener in the kingdom.

Now, when Prince Brilliant ran away from the Lady Daffodilia he found the road so hot and so dusty that he was obliged to keep near the hedge at the side; and he had not run very far before he pushed his head through a very elegant spider's web. The spider was exceedingly cross, and grumbled; but the daddy-longlegs that tumbled out of her web was very much pleased with himself.

"Well, my little friend," he said to the Prince, "where are you running so fast, this fine morning?"

Now, one of the things the Prince had learned from his Professor was the way to speak to a daddy-longlegs, so before another five minutes had passed he had told him the whole of his trouble. "Do _you_ know the way to make your legs grow long?" asked the Prince at the end of his story.

"Well," said the daddy-longlegs, "that is certainly one of the things I am generally supposed to know; but if I show you the way, do you think you will have patience to do everything I tell you? It may take a very long time."

"I can wait years and years and years and years," said the Prince, in his determined way; and the daddy-longlegs had the sense to see that he meant what he said.

"Right you are," he said. "Then jump straight into that hedge; and the more spiders' webs you break on the way, the better--nasty, choky, stuffy things!"

"What shall I do when I get there?" asked the Prince.

"Oh, you haven't got to do anything," said the daddy-longlegs, with a chuckle. "Just wait there until I come to you."

"All right; but you won't be long, will you?" said the Prince; and he tucked his crown under his arm and shut his eyes tight and jumped straight into the thorny, prickly hedge.

When he opened his eyes, he found himself in a strange new country, that was all made of rose-coloured dreams, and filled with rose-coloured air, and lighted with rose-coloured sunbeams. There were no people or trees or mountains or rivers to be seen; but before the little Prince had time to notice this, his mind was filled with rose-coloured thoughts, and so he forgot the Lady Daffodilia and his own crossness and everything that had made him unhappy when he was in the real world.

"Hullo! Where am I?" he cried.

"You are in the world of dreams, to be sure," said a voice in his ear. "Where else should you be at your time of life?"

"But who lives here?" asked Prince Brilliant.

A great many voices answered him. "_We_ live here, of course," they said. "We are really nice dreams, we are; and when children are the right sort, like yourself, they come here to stay with us until they are grown up."

"May I play with you, then?" asked the Prince. In the real world he had been too fond of books to play much, but here he felt as though he must do nothing but play all day long.

"Of course you may," answered the dream voices; "that is what you are here for."

Prince Brilliant was soon the happiest boy possible. Some people might think it dull to have playfellows who could not be seen, but the Prince thought nothing could be more delightful than to live in the midst of dreams for the rest of his life. It is true that he was fast forgetting everything that his Professor had taught him; but this was hardly surprising, for there is no room in a very small head for serious thoughts as well as rose-coloured ones.

It is doubtful whether the Prince would ever have wanted to go back to the real world again, if he had not met the daddy-longlegs one day, as he was strolling along with his favourite dream.

"Hullo!" said the daddy-longlegs, chuckling. "I see it is time for you to go back into the real world."

"What, already?" exclaimed the Prince. "Why, you said I should have to wait years and years and years and----"

"You have been here exactly seven years," interrupted the daddy-longlegs; "and it is time for you to meet the waking-up dream."

The Prince suddenly began to remember things. "When shall I be as tall as the Lady Daffodilia?" he cried. But the daddy-longlegs had no time to do anything but chuckle before the waking-up dream came and seized hold of the Prince, and he found himself falling, falling, falling--down, down, down--until he dropped with a thud on a soft grass lawn, and found himself in the middle of the most beautiful garden in the world. A little way off stood an old grey castle; and as he lay looking at it the gate swung open, and out stepped a dainty, winsome little lady.

The Prince sprang to his feet with a shout and held out his arms; and the Lady Daffodilia ran straight into them without stopping so much as to think.

"How _did_ you learn to grow so tall?" she asked, looking up at him.

"Well," said the Prince, truthfully, "I just went into the world of dreams and waited till I was grown up. You see, I was a boy and not a girl, all the time; so I was not in such a hurry as you to get my growing done early."

"I tried to grow as clever as you," sighed Daffodilia, "but nothing would stop in my head. I couldn't even say the exports and imports of Fairyland without looking in the book first!"

"Never mind," laughed the Prince; "I don't believe there are any imports, for I am sure _we_ have nothing good enough to send there. And as for the exports, there is only one thing that Fairyland has sent into this country that is worth remembering."

"And what is that?" she asked anxiously.

"It is something that is not very tall and not very serious and not very wise," answered the Prince; "but it is sweet and merry and charming, and it is called the Lady Daffodilia!"

The Kite That Went to the Moon

Jerry had made the biggest kite in the village; and Chubby, the woodcutter's daughter, had painted a big round moon on it and several stars as well. That alone was enough to show that it was by no means an ordinary kite; so it was no wonder that Jerry felt very proud of himself when he ran on to the village green to fly it.

"Stand back, all of you!" he said, as the girls and boys came crowding round him. "Now, you shall see my kite fly to the moon!"

No doubt, Jerry was inclined to make quite enough fuss about his kite; but it is not every day that one has a chance of flying the biggest kite in the village, especially when one is only seven years old. He felt very sad, however, when he found that his kite had no intention of flying to the moon. Every time he threw it into the air, back it fell again on the grass; and although he tried again and again, and used yards and yards of the very best string that twopence-halfpenny could buy, any one could see that something was decidedly wrong with the biggest kite in the village.

Jerry turned red, and blinked his eyes, and reminded himself desperately that he was seven years old. It was certainly hard to have spent six half-holidays in making a kite that would not fly in the end.

"Stupid thing!" he muttered crossly. "If I had the chance, just wouldn't I fly to the moon! Kites don't know when they are well off!"

But when all the boys and girls burst out laughing, and pointed their fingers at him and began to tease, it was impossible to keep back his tears any longer. After all, one cannot go on remembering for ever that one is seven years old. The children, however, only laughed the more, when the little maker of the kite suddenly flung himself down on the ground and began to cry.

"What is the use of a kite that won't fly?" they jeered. "Take it home, Jerry, and make it the same size as other people's kites! And mind you let us know what the moon is like, when your kite gets there!"

Jerry started to his feet again and shook his fist at them. "Some day," he shouted, "I shall be able to laugh at you instead."

"When will that be, Jerry?" cried all the boys and girls.

"When my kite has flown to the moon," answered Jerry, in a determined tone; and he picked up his kite there and then, and marched off to the school to find Chubby, the woodcutter's daughter.

"Hullo, Chubby!" he said, popping his head in at the schoolroom window. "Haven't you done that sum yet?"

Chubby looked up with a doleful face. After painting a moon and several stars on the biggest kite in the village, it was not pleasant to be kept in school just because seven would not go into sixty-three.

"I shall never finish it, Jerry, never!" she said with a sigh.

"Chubby," said Jerry, solemnly, "you've been crying."

Chubby rubbed her eyes hastily with her two fists. "I don't think so," she replied in a muffled tone; "it was just three tears that trickled down my nose and made a smudge on the slate; but that isn't crying. You know it isn't, Jerry!"

Jerry rubbed his own eyes a little guiltily. "My kite wouldn't fly," he remarked, and tried to look as though he did not care a bit.

"What!" cried Chubby. "Wouldn't your kite fly? Then I never need have cried at all."

Jerry clambered on the window ledge and sat there with his legs swinging to and fro. He wished Chubby would not talk so much about crying. "All the string got mixed up," he explained with dignity; "I expect that was it."

"I don't," said Chubby, decidedly; "it was because the tail was too short. I told you so, all the time."

No doubt there was something in what she said, but reasons are not much good when you are seven years old and your kite won't fly, and Jerry was not in a mood to be trifled with.

"If you know so much about it," he retorted, "you'd better come and fly it yourself."

"I only wish I could," sighed poor little Chubby. "If you'll tell me how many times seven goes into--"

"Oh, don't," interrupted Jerry, crossly. "How can I do sums when my kite won't fly?"

Then he flung himself down from the window ledge, and started off to find some one who would tell him why his kite would not fly. Half-way down the village street, he met a fine black raven.

"Good day to you," said Jerry, who knew that ravens could explain most things if they chose. "Can you tell me why my kite won't fly?"

"Caw, caw!" croaked the raven. "Nine times, Jerry, nine times! Caw, caw!"

"I wonder what he means," thought Jerry, and trudged on a little farther. Presently he met a sheep. Now, sheep do not know much as a rule, but they are always extremely anxious to tell what they do know. So Jerry asked her at once why his kite would not fly.

"Baa, baa!" said the sheep. "Nine times, Jerry, nine times! Baa, baa!"

"Everybody is going mad this afternoon," thought Jerry; and he went on a little farther. Just at the end of the village, a cockchafer came buzzing round his head.

"Buz-z-z!" hummed the cockchafer. "Nine times, Jerry, nine times! Buz-z-z!"

"Oh, go away, do!" cried Jerry, impatiently. "What do you all mean by nine times?"

The cockchafer did not go away an inch, but buzzed closer to Jerry's head than before. "Buz-z-z," he hummed; "nine times, Jerry, nine times, nine times, nine times, nine times--"

All at once, the cockchafer's meaning entered Jerry's head, which was hardly to be wondered at, considering how close his head was at that moment to the cockchafer.

"Of course it's nine times!" he cried. "Why didn't I think of that before?" Then he turned round and dragged his kite all the way back to the school, where Chubby still sat sighing over her sum.

"It goes nine times exactly, Chubby," he told her through the window; "so now you can come and help me to carry this great big kite."

"Where are we going, Jerry?" asked Chubby, when she had finished her sum and joined him.

"We are going out into the world, to discover the reason why my kite won't fly," answered Jerry; and between them they picked up the biggest kite in the village and carried it out into the world.

"How are we going to discover why your kite won't fly?" asked Chubby, when they had walked a good way. She had had no tea, to tell the truth, and was beginning to feel remarkably hungry.

"We will ask everybody we meet," said Jerry, who had had his tea and was therefore not at all hungry. "There is sure to be some one in the world who can tell us, and we will not rest until we find him."

"We haven't met anybody yet," remarked Chubby, rather dolefully. "How long do you think we shall have to go on walking before we find the right person?"

"Perhaps for years and years," answered Jerry, cheerfully. "But if we are quick, we may meet him sooner than that."

He quickened his steps as he spoke, and Chubby had to run a little to keep up with him. It was beginning to grow dark now, and the country seemed more and more desolate.

"The world is not so full of people as I expected to find it," said Jerry, in a disappointed tone. "I do hope we shall soon meet some one who will know why my kite won't fly."

Just then, he thought he heard something from behind that sounded like a sob. Sure enough, there was Chubby, wiping her eyes with the corner of her pinafore.

"I'm so hungry," she sobbed. "I want my tea. Can't we go home, Jerry, and put off seeing the world until to-morrow?"

Jerry looked at her and sighed. If it had been any one but Chubby, he would most certainly have grumbled at her. As it was, he only propped up the kite against the hedge and made her sit down beside it.

"I am afraid I don't know the way home," he said; "but if you will wait here, I will go and get you something to eat."

He was not at all sure where he was going to find it, but he hastened along the road as fast as he could and hoped he would soon come to a house. Long before he came to a house, however, he came to a man, a little old man, who was carrying a large sack on his shoulder. Directly he saw Jerry, he swung the sack on to the ground and began untying the mouth of it.

"Well, my little fellow," he said in a friendly tone, "what do you want out of my bag?"

"That depends on what you have got in your bag," answered Jerry, promptly.

"I have everything in the world in my bag," replied the little old man, "for everything is there that everybody wants. I have laughter and tears and happiness and sadness; I can give you riches or poverty, sense or nonsense; here is a way to discover the things that you don't know, and a way to forget the things that you do know. Will you have a toy that changes whenever you wish, or a book that tells you stories whenever you listen to it, or a pair of shoes in which you can dance from boyhood into youth? Choose whatever you like and it shall be yours; but remember, I can only give you one thing out of my bag, so think well before you make up your mind."

Jerry did not stop to think at all. "Have you something to eat in your bag, something that will please a hungry little girl who has had no tea?" he asked.

The little old man smiled and pulled out a small cake about the size of Jerry's fist. It did not look as though it would satisfy any one who was as hungry as Chubby; but as the old man disappeared, sack and all, the moment he had given Jerry the cake, it was not much good complaining about it. So back trotted Jerry to the place where he had left Chubby; and greatly to his relief her face beamed with joy directly she had eaten one mouthful.

"What a beautiful cake!" she cried; "it tastes like strawberry jam and toffee and ices, and all the things I like best. And see! as fast as I eat it, it comes again, so that I shall never be able to finish it. Take some, Jerry."

"Why," said Jerry, as soon as he had taken a bite, "it tastes like currant buns and ginger-beer and all the things _I_ like best. It is certain that we shall never starve as long as we have a fairy cake like this." Then he told her how he had come by it.

"Perhaps," remarked Chubby, "the little old man could have told you why your kite wouldn't fly."

"Perhaps he could," said Jerry, carelessly, "but I didn't think to ask him. We'll come along and ask the next person instead."

When, however, they looked round for the kite, it was nowhere to be seen. The moon came out obligingly from behind a cloud and helped them as much as it could; but although they searched for a long time, not a trace could they find of the biggest kite in the village.

"Oh dear, oh dear!" sighed Chubby. "Perhaps I went to sleep while you were away, and somebody came along and took it. But I did think I stopped awake, Jerry; I did indeed!"

"And so you did, to be sure!" cried a voice from the hedge; "but you would have to be very wide awake to keep _that_ kite from giving you the slip, as soon as the moon came up!"

Of course, no one but a wymp would have appeared like that, just in time to say the right thing; so the children were not at all surprised when a particularly wympish wymp came tumbling out of the hedge and perched himself on a thistle and wimpled at them.

"Do you mean to say you know where the kite has gone?" asked both the children, breathlessly.

"Look up there and see," answered the wymp, pointing to the sky.

The sky was covered with stars, hundreds and thousands of them, all twinkling round the moon just as Chubby had painted them on the kite. Only, she could not help thinking that her stars had more shape and were decidedly more like stars than the real stars were; but this, she supposed, might be because the real stars were such a long way off. One of them was different from all the others; it had a long bright tail that glittered like a cracker at Christmas time, and it was scurrying across the sky at such a pace that the rest of the stars had to get out of its way as best they could. Most of the people who looked out of their windows that night thought they saw a comet; but Jerry and Chubby knew better.

"Oh," they cried, clapping their hands with excitement. "There is our kite, and it _is_ flying to the moon after all!"

"There's no doubt about that," said the wymp, who was still wimpling at them from the top of the thistle.

"But why did it not fly to the moon this afternoon, when all the other boys were looking on?" asked Jerry, regretfully.

"Because there wasn't a moon to fly to, of course!" answered the wymp. "You shouldn't expect too much, even from the biggest kite in the village. Directly there _was_ a moon, you see, away it flew."

"Then, if I had painted the sun on it, instead of the moon, it would have flown away this afternoon!" exclaimed Chubby.

"Exactly so," said the wymp. "Now, what ever induced you to paint a thing like the moon on anybody's kite, eh?"

"Well, you see, the moon is so nice and easy," explained Chubby. "All you have to do is to draw a circle round the biggest soup plate you can find; and then you take away the soup plate, and you paint in the eyes and the nose and the mouth, and there you are! You can't do much more than that with three paints and a brush that's got hardly any hairs, can you?"

"Yes, you can," retorted the wymp, "you can paint the sun, and that's ever so much better than painting the moon--nasty, silly, chilly thing!"

"Oh, but you can't paint the sun when you've only got three paints," objected Chubby. "It takes ever so many more paints than that to make it shine properly; and even then, it doesn't always."

"Shine!" repeated the wymp. "Who said anything about shining? When I say the sun, I mean the other side of the sun, of course. _That_ doesn't shine,--knows better, indeed!"

He seemed so hurt about it that Chubby hastened to pacify him. "I'm very sorry," she said. "Of course, I should like to paint your side of the sun very much, but it is a little difficult when I haven't ever been there, isn't it?"

"Perhaps it is," admitted the wymp; "but if that is all, I'll take you there this very minute. Will you come?"

Chubby looked round; and there was Jerry still gazing up at the star with the long tail, that was causing so much commotion among the countries of the sky. Just then, it reached the moon and went straight into it with a big splash; and Jerry heaved a deep sigh.

That decided Chubby. "If you please," she said, turning to the wymp in a great hurry, "I think we would rather go to the moon."

The wymp instantly flew into the most violent passion. "What!" he exclaimed, shaking all over with indignation. "You would sooner go to the moon than the back of the sun? Well, I _am_ sorry for you."

Chubby was just going to be frightened, when Jerry came and put his arm round her protectingly. "You see," he explained to the wymp, "it's not the moon we want, it's the kite. And the kite has gone to the moon, unfortunately. I suppose I am glad it has gone," he added rather doubtfully, "but I do wish it had waited to take me with it."

"Oh, well," said the wymp, calming down a little, "if you are quite sure you don't _want_ to go to the moon, I shall have the greatest pleasure in taking you there. I'll call a comet at once." He put his fingers to his mouth and blew a whistle that was long enough to reach the countries of the sky. "Now I come to think of it," he continued thoughtfully, "it is a very good thing you did not want to go to Wympland, because we should have been obliged to wait until the morning."

"Why couldn't we go to-night?" asked Jerry.

"Because there isn't a Wympland to go to," answered the wymp, promptly. "When the sun goes down it takes the back of itself with itself, and there isn't a Wympland again till next morning. I shouldn't be here now, if I hadn't missed the last sunbeam this evening. That is the worst of living in a place that disappears every night."

"Oh, but it doesn't disappear really," said Chubby, who wanted to show that she knew a little geography; "the sun is shining somewhere else at this very moment, only we can't see it."

"Rubbish!" said the wymp, scornfully. "Don't you believe everything you're told about the sun! Who said it didn't disappear, eh? Has any one ever gone after it to see?"

"N-no," said Chubby, doubtfully, "but--"

"That proves it doesn't go on shining, then," said the wymp, triumphantly. "There's plenty of inquisitive people who'd have gone after the sun long ago, if it hadn't the sense to disappear every night. It must have some peace, you know, if it's got to come up smiling again the next morning."

"Do the wymps disappear every night, too?" asked Jerry.

"Of course they do," answered the wymp. "Don't you?"

"I didn't know we did," said Jerry, a little bewildered. "I thought we only went to sleep."

"Ah, you do that first," said the wymp. "Then you disappear."

"No, we don't," said Chubby, positively. "We shouldn't have dreams if we disappeared."

"You certainly wouldn't have any dreams unless you did disappear," chuckled the wymp.

"Then what about to-night?" demanded Jerry. "Do you mean to say we have disappeared now?"

The wymp sighed. "Some people never will know when they're not there," he complained. "But here is our comet; jump in, or else we shall be late."

Down swooped the great shining comet, and there it lay across the road, waiting for them to mount. The children climbed on to its broad glittering tail and held tightly to each other, while the wymp mounted in front of them and stood like the man at the wheel, with his hand on the comet's head; then up they flew at a terrific pace, right through the wonderful blue darkness that stretched all round them. Far above was the great land of light that lay round the moon; but the country of the stars came in between, and the stars were still so far off that they had not even begun to look like real stars.

"Afraid of the dark?" asked the wymp over his shoulder.

"Oh, no," said Chubby. "I am only afraid of the dark you get at home when the candle is put out. This is a nice, friendly kind of darkness, and candles wouldn't make any difference to it."

"I don't know so much about that," said the wymp; "if you had the steering to do, you wouldn't mind a candle or two to help you."

"Do you steer by the points of the compass?" asked Jerry, eagerly. Some one had given him a compass on his last birthday, and he had steered by it ever since. Indeed, he had arrived late at school several times, through steering his way by the points of the compass.

"Certainly not," said the wymp; "when you are sailing on a comet, you steer by the points of the comet, of course." Just then, he gave a sharp turn to the points of the comet, and it sailed right out of the blue darkness and took them into the dim mysterious greyness of the country of the stars.

"They _are_ like real stars," murmured Chubby, for she had begun to have serious doubts whether the stars she had painted on the kite were not wrong after all. It was very comforting to find that the stars that were whizzing past them in hundreds and thousands looked just like the stars she had been accustomed to see on Christmas trees, and had such sharp points that it would not have been at all pleasant to run against one of them by mistake. Indeed, the wymp had as much as he could do to steer through the country of the stars without coming into collision with them, although the comet did not make half so much commotion in the sky as Jerry's kite had done. But then, Jerry's kite had never been trained to be a comet, and that made all the difference.

It grew lighter and lighter as they came nearer the moon, and even the stars began to look pale in the white light that was shining so close to the edge of their country. The stars were growing fewer, too, for stars naturally prefer to shine in a place where they can be seen, and just here, at the edge of their country, they could hardly be seen at all. Then the wymp gave another turn to the points of the comet, and it glided gently from the country of the stars into the pale white country of the moon.

"It's like being inside a great flame that isn't hot," whispered Chubby.

Even the wymp had to admit that the country of the moon had something in its favour. "For those who like light," he allowed, "the moon is all very well. For my part, I prefer Wympland, where there isn't any light at all. You can't say that of any other country on either side of the sun!"

"I don't want to say it," objected Chubby; "I am very glad there _is_ some light in my country."

"But there isn't," retorted the wymp. "There's only other people's light in your country! Where would you be, if you didn't borrow bits of light from the countries of the sky, eh?"

Chubby thought it would be wiser to change the conversation. "If you please," she said politely, "can you tell me when we shall get to the moon?"

"Why," laughed the wymp, "we are in the moon now!"

Chubby looked round her in bewilderment. "But where are the eyes and the nose and the mouth?" she asked.

The wymp shook his head. "I am afraid," he said gravely, "that you must have found them in the soup plate. Perhaps Jerry knows where they are."

But Jerry was looking everywhere for something that was far more important. Some people might want to come all this way to look for the man in the moon, but for his part he intended to find the biggest kite in the village, the kite that had taken him six half-holidays to make. "Do you think we shall find it soon?" he asked impatiently.

Nobody answered him, for just then the comet came to such a sudden standstill that all three of them were nearly jerked off into the air. It was not the comet's fault, however, for right in its way was Jerry's kite; and it was lucky for everybody, that night, that there was not an extremely bad accident in the countries of the sky.

"Why don't you look where you are going?" asked the kite, in just the flippant fly away sort of tone one would expect from a kite.

Jerry was so astonished at being addressed in this impudent manner by a thing he had made with his own hands, that he did not know what to reply. The comet, however, was a comet of a few words; and all it did was to put its head down and rush straight at Jerry's kite. There is no doubt that in another minute there would have been a terrific battle in the middle of the moon, if a strange, clear voice from beyond had not spoken just in time to stop it.

"Who is daring to make all this commotion in my country?" said the voice.

"Hullo!" muttered the wymp, suddenly; "I was expecting that. Good-bye, children; I'm off!" And pointing his hands downward, he took a dive from the head of the comet and disappeared in the direction of the country of the stars.

At the same instant, out from the pale white distance of the country of the moon glided a tall figure, as white and delicate and shimmering as the light that surrounded it.

"Is it--can it be the man in the moon?" whispered Chubby to the boy beside her.

Then the figure came closer, and they saw that it was a wonderful, mysterious-looking, white witch-woman.

"I am the Lady of the Moon," she said, in the same clear, cold voice. "Snow and stillness and space are wherever I go; when I smile, I make the whole world beautiful, but my smile takes the colour away from the flowers and the ripple away from the water and the warmth away from the sunshine."

She looked round, and her eye lighted on Jerry's kite. "What is that creature doing in my country?" she demanded.

All the impudence seemed to have gone out of the biggest kite in the village, for it lay there trembling at the feet of the Lady of the Moon, and had not so much as a word to say for itself. Jerry, however, summoned up courage to answer for it. After all, it was through him that the kite was there, and he naturally felt bound to defend it.

"If you please," he said, "it is my kite. I made it, all by myself,--it took six half-holidays; and Chubby painted the moon and the stars on it."

"I am afraid," said Chubby, hurriedly, "that the moon is not very much like the moon, but it was the best I could do with three paints and a brush that hadn't any hairs. The stars are right," she added anxiously.

The Lady of the Moon smiled contemptuously. "Stars, indeed!" she observed. "What does it matter how the stars are painted? The moon is far more important, and you have made a regular muddle of that! And who told you children that you might come into my country, I should like to know?"

"The wymp brought us," explained Jerry. "He was here a minute ago, but he has just left."

"No doubt he has," said the Lady of the Moon, with a little laugh that made them shiver. "Wymps know better than to come in my way. I can turn their laughter into hoar-frost, and they don't like that. As for you, unless you want to be frozen tight to the middle of the moon for the rest of your lives, you had better make haste home again."

Chubby was only too anxious to be off, for she had no wish to spend the rest of her life with some one who made people shiver whenever she laughed. Jerry, however, did not mean to have his journey to the moon for nothing.

"Please, may I take my kite back with me?" he asked boldly. "I want to show the other boys and girls that it did fly to the moon after all."

"That's all very well," objected the kite, who had stopped trembling and become impudent again; "but I don't want to go back among a lot of girls and boys who do not know how to appreciate me. When a fellow has once been a comet, you cannot expect him to end his days as a common kite."

"Oh, well," said the Lady of the Moon, gathering her mantle closely round her and stepping away from them, "settle that among yourselves, only please go out of my country first. For my part, I must go and put the finishing touches to that hoar-frost of mine before dawn."

She had hardly finished speaking when a faint gleam of pink pierced the white light around her and touched the edge of her mantle. She gave a shrill cry instantly, and waved her arms about her in the greatest excitement.

"Go, go, go! Dawn is coming, and you will be swallowed up in the setting of the moon," she screamed at them. "Go, go, go!"

Chubby began to feel tearful, for it is not pleasant to be told that one is going to be swallowed up in anything. But Jerry had a sudden inspiration.

"Jump, Chubby, jump!" he shouted, seizing her by the arm and springing away from the comet. Chubby must have done as she was told, for the next minute she found herself sitting beside him, on the top of the biggest kite in the village. As for the comet, it was only too anxious to get back to the place where it could shine and be seen; so it took a great dive down into the country of the stars, just as the wymp had done, and they never saw it again.

"Now," said Jerry sternly to his kite, "you've just got to take us home straightway without any more nonsense! If you want to stay and be swallowed up, we don't. You can come back again and be a comet for the rest of your days, for all I care; but I'm determined that you shall show the village first that you know how to fly. Now, down you go!"

Evidently, the kite felt that there was some sense in Jerry's words, for it made no further objections, but sailed swiftly out of the country of the moon just in time to escape being swallowed up. The downward journey was much simpler than the one of the night before, for the sun was rising as fast as it could, and the stars were disappearing so rapidly that there were hardly any of them left to get in the way. This was a very good thing, for, as I said before, Jerry's kite had not been trained to be a comet, and it takes a good deal of steering to get through the countries of the sky without an accident on the way.

Chubby was hungry enough to remember her fairy cake; and as it was nearly breakfast time, of course it tasted of milk and porridge and eggs and bacon. But Jerry refused to touch a mouthful. He was busy thinking of what the other boys and girls would say, when they saw him come sailing home on his kite.

The sun was shining brightly, and the birds were singing, and the children were laughing on their way to school, when Jerry and Chubby at last reached home on the biggest kite in the village.

"Oh, oh!" cried all the boys and girls, rushing up to them in great excitement. "Here's Jerry and Chubby been sailing about on the biggest kite in the village! Where have you been, Jerry?"

Jerry smiled in a superior manner, and waved them all back with his hand.

"What a fuss you do make, to be sure!" he observed. "Didn't I tell you my kite was going to the moon?"

Then Jerry went home to breakfast; but Jerry's kite sailed back to the countries of the sky, and it has been a comet ever since.

* * * * *

Transcriber's Notes:

Italic text is denoted by _underscores_.

Minor typographical errors have been corrected.

Both "hillside" and "hill-side" were used in this text. This has been retained.

Both "some one" and "someone" were used in this text. This has been retained.

There was one occurrence of "WillowHerb" in the text. This was changed to "Willow-Herb", as it appeared as such multiple times.

End of Project Gutenberg's The Other Side of the Sun, by Evelyn Sharp