and a wreath of sponges crowned the champion of a row of kettles in
shining armour. Against the ceiling the drapery section was found.
Overalls, ready-made breeches, babies' socks, and pink flannelette
mysteries hung doubled up as if in pain over strings nailed to the
rafters. From this department Sarah Brown, balanced upon three large
biscuit tins placed on the counter, chose her outfit with vanity and
care. The general effect was not good, but she did not know this, for
she studied the parts separately in a six-inch mirror. She was filled
with a simple pleasure. For she was always absurdly moved by little
excitements, and by any prospect of a changed to-morrow. She was not
really used to being alive at all, and that is what made her take to
magic so kindly.

"In six hours," she said, "I shall be on my way to something utterly
new."

And in six hours she was on her way, whistling, across the Parish of
Faery. The Dog David ran in front of her among the daisies. The rabbits
can never be caught in this land of happy animals, but they give good
sport and always play fair.

David Blessing Brown, a dog of independent yet loving habit, had spent
about four-fifths of his life in the Brown family. He was three years
old, and though ineligible for military service, made a point of wearing
khaki about his face, and in a symmetrical heart-shaped spot near his
tail. To Sarah Brown he was the Question and the Answer, his presence
was a constant playtime for her mind; so well was he loved that he
seemed to her to move in a little mist and clamour of love. With every
one else she held but lame intercourse, but her Dog David and she
withheld no passing thought from each other. They could often be heard