THE BOOK OF BETTY BARBER.
“Know what is in the bag?” cried Father William. “Why, of course I do, didn’t I pack that bag my own self? Sit down, all of you, and listen. I will sit down on the bag. I won’t lose it again.
So they all sat down beneath the tree, and Father William began—
“Question one—Where did the bag come from? Question two—Where did it go to? Question three—What is in the bag?”
“We haven’t any paper,” objected Ellessdee, “we can’t take the questions down.”
“Question one,” said Father William, “I’ll answer myself. Can anyone answer Question two?”
“I can answer one of the questions,” said the Fraction. “I saw the holiday fairies dragging that bag through the wood.”
“The young monkeys,” said Father William, “then they stole it whilst I was asleep.”
“The Sleeping Beauty in the Wood,” cried a mocking voice up in the tree.
“Would you say ‘stole’ it?” asked another voice.
“Scarcely, perhaps,” said a third voice.
And, looking up, they saw the three mischief-making, mischief-loving fairies up in the tree above their heads.
“Come down,” said Father William.
“Come down,” called Thirteen-fourteenths.
“Thanks awfully,” said Summer, “but I think”
“So do I,” said Christmas.
“We’ll stay where we are,” said Easter.
“We’re up a tree this time,” they cried in chorus.
“Take no notice of them, Father William,” said Lucy. “You’ll go to sleep if you do. They always make me feel sleepy. Tell us about the book.”
“To begin at the beginning of all things,” said Father William, “in my youth”
A large branch tumbled bang on his head.
“Oh, yes, dear me, yes,” he said quickly. “As I was saying, I
