planned it all out, and they so knew the place by heart that they did not need to ask their way. It was over one of the fairy bridges which led to a fairy island. It was softly wooded, and among the trees were winding paths and flowers and rustic seats and quaint roofs peering above the greenness of branches. And it was full of the warm scent of roses growing together in sumptuous thousands, their heavy sweet heads uplifted to the sun, or nodding and leaning towards their neighbour clusters.
The fairy bridge linked it to the wonderful world beyond, but by comparison its bowers were almost quiet. The crowd did not jostle there.
"And we shall be eating our lunch near thousands and thousands of roses. It will be like the Arabian Nights. Let us pretend that the rose who is queen of them all invited us—because we belong to nobody," Meg said.
They brought the modest addition to their meal and carried the necessary ever-present satchel to their bower. They were tired of dragging the satchel about, but they were afraid to lose sight of it.
"It's very well that it is such a small one, and that we have so little in it," Robin said.
They chose the most secluded corner they could find, as near to the Rose Garden as possible, and sat
