cool
sliced tomatoes with sprigs of green parsley, fresh butter, fresh
cream, a great slab of heavenly cake, a wicker basket of Elberta
peaches, rain-cooled, odorous, delicious, and a pot of steaming
coffee. On the edge of the tray was a cluster of rain-washed roses.

"No," Alicia doubted, "this is not true: it can't be!--Sophy, do you
see it, too?"

He motioned her to take the tray; and his ear-rings swung, and all
his bracelets set up a silver tinkling. An automobile honked outside
in the street shut off by our garden trees, and a dog barked. Our
jinnee cocked a cautious head and a listening ear, thrust the tray
upon Alicia, and with inconceivable swiftness vanished around a
corner.

"Let's hurry and eat it before it, too, takes to its heels," said
Alicia, practically. Without further ado we dragged forward a small
table, and fell to. Aladdin probably tasted fare like that, the
first time he rubbed the magic lamp.

When we had polished the last chicken bone, and had that comfortable
feeling that nothing can give so thoroughly as a good meal, Alicia
carefully examined the china and silver.

"Old blue-and-white English china; English silver initialed 'R.H.G.'
Sophy, handle this prayerfully: it's an apostle spoon. Think of
having a jinnee fetch you your coffee, and of stirring it with an
apostle spoon."

She spoke reverently. Alicia is the sort who flattens her nose
against antique-shop windows, and would go without dessert for a
month of Sundays and trudge afoot to save carfare, if thereby she
might buy an old print, or a bit of pottery; just as I am content to
admire the print or the pottery in the shop window, feeling sure
that when they are finally sold to somebody better able to buy them,
something else I can admire just as much will take their place. Mine
is a philosophy not altogether to be despised, though Alicia rejects
it. She handled the blue-and-white ware with tender hands, laid the
silver together, and set the tray upon the window-ledge. Then, on a
leaf of my pocket memorandum--she never carries one of her own--she
scribbled the following absurdity and pinned it to the linen cover:

Ariel, accept the gratitude of mortals set down hungry in
the house of Sycorax. Gay and kind spirit, when we broke
your bread you broke her spell: the wishbone of your chicken
has cooked her goose! Maker of Music, Donator of Dinners,
thanks!

"And now," said she, "having been serenaded, and s