n make a bow and arrow for your very own self," said
Diana.

"I don't see why I shouldn't, but you'll have to promise--"

"Oh, I won't make pwomises!" said Diana. "Why should I make pwomises
about your bow and arrows? I'll help you to make 'em. Do let me,
Apollo!"

Apollo seemed suddenly smitten with the idea. After all, it would be
fine to make a bow and arrow, and to try to shoot things in the wood.
How lovely it would be if he succeeded in shooting a rabbit; he would
certainly have a try. Accordingly, he rose and climbed into the lower
branches of an elm tree, and cut down a long, smooth young bough, and,
descending again to the ground, began to peel the bark off. When this
was done, Diana produced some more string out of her pocket, and a
very creditable bow was the result.

"Now, the arrow," said the little girl.

"We must get some strong wood for that," said Apollo, "something that
won't split. I'll just walk about and look around me." He did so, and
soon found a stick suitable for his purpose. He sat down again and
began whittling away. Very soon a fairly sharp arrow was the result.
"Of course it ought to be tipped," said Apollo, "but we have nothing
to tip it with. It is lucky that the wood is hard, and so it is really
sharp. Now, shall I have a few shots with it?"

"Please do, Apollo. Oh, how 'licious it all is! Don't you feel just as
if you was a heathen god?"

"I wish I were," said Apollo, throwing back his head. "Oh, Di, how hot
it is in the wood! What wouldn't I give to be back in the dear old
garden again?"

"Maybe we'll go soon," said Diana; "maybe they won't want to keep us
if--" But here she shut up her little mouth firmly.

Apollo was too much excited about the bow and arrows to think of
Diana's remarks. He stood up and began to practice shooting.

"You is doing it beautiful," said Diana, applauding his extremely poor
efforts. "Now, twy again. Think that you has lived long, long ago, and
that you is shotting things for our dinner."

The arrow went wide of the mark, the arrow went everywhere but where
it ought to. Diana clapped and laughed and shouted, and Apollo thought
himself the finest archer in the world.

"Now, let me have a teeny turn," she said.

"To be sure I will," he replied good-naturedly. He showed her how to
place the arrow, and she made one or two valiant attempts to send it
flying through the wood.

"It is hard," she panted; "the arrow don't seem even to make the least