ing, blinding, deafening,
tumbling upside-downness of the carpet-moving stopped, the children had
the happiness of seeing three large live turtles waddle down to the edge
of the sea and disappear in the water. And it was hotter than you can
possibly imagine, unless you think of ovens on a baking-day.

Every one without an instant's hesitation tore off its
London-in-November outdoor clothes, and Anthea took off the Lamb's
highwayman blue coat and his three-cornered hat, and then his jersey,
and then the Lamb himself suddenly slipped out of his little blue tight
breeches and stood up happy and hot in his little white shirt.

'I'm sure it's much warmer than the seaside in the summer,' said Anthea.
'Mother always lets us go barefoot then.'

So the Lamb's shoes and socks and gaiters came off, and he stood digging
his happy naked pink toes into the golden smooth sand.

'I'm a little white duck-dickie,' said he--'a little white duck-dickie
what swims,' and splashed quacking into a sandy pool.

'Let him,' said Anthea; 'it can't hurt him. Oh, how hot it is!'

The cook suddenly opened her eyes and screamed, shut them, screamed
again, opened her eyes once more and said--

'Why, drat my cats alive, what's all this? It's a dream, I expect.

Well, it's the best I ever dreamed. I'll look it up in the dream-book
to-morrow. Seaside and trees and a carpet to sit on. I never did!'

'Look here,' said Cyril, 'it isn't a dream; it's real.'

'Ho yes!' said the cook; 'they always says that in dreams.'

'It's REAL, I tell you,' Robert said, stamping his foot. 'I'm not going
to tell you how it's done, because that's our secret.' He winked heavily
at each of the others in turn. 'But you wouldn't go away and make that
pudding, so we HAD to bring you, and I hope you like it.'

'I do that, and no mistake,' said the cook unexpectedly; 'and it being a
dream it don't matter what I say; and I WILL say, if it's my last word,
that of all the aggravating little varmints--' 'Calm yourself, my good
woman,' said the Phoenix.

'Good woman, indeed,' said the cook; 'good woman yourself' Then she
saw who it was that had spoken. 'Well, if I ever,' said she; 'this is
something like a dream! Yellow fowls a-talking and all! I've heard of
such, but never did I think to see the day.'

'Well, then,' said Cyril, impatiently, 'sit here and see the day now.
It's a jolly fine day. Here, you others--a council!' They walked along
the shore till they were out of