She began to cry, so did Jane. Even the boys turned pale. No one had the
heart to say anything.

It was a horrible afternoon. There was no house near where the children
could beg a crust of bread or even a glass of water. They were afraid to
go to the village, because they had seen Martha go down there with a
basket, and there was a local constable. True, they were all as
beautiful as the day, but that is a poor comfort when you are as hungry
as a hunter and as thirsty as a sponge.

Three times they tried in vain to get the servants in the White House to
let them in and listen to their tale. And then Robert went alone, hoping
to be able to climb in at one of the back windows and so open the door
to the others. But all the windows were out of reach, and Martha emptied
a toilet-jug of cold water over him from a top window, and said--

"Go along with you, you nasty little Eye-talian monkey."

It came at last to their sitting down in a row under the hedge, with
their feet in a dry ditch, waiting for sunset, and wondering whether,
when the sun _did_ set, they would turn into stone, or only into their
own old natural selves; and each of them still felt lonely and among
strangers, and tried not to look at the others, for, though their voices
were their own, their faces were so radiantly beautiful as to be quite
irritating to look at.

"I don't believe we _shall_ turn to stone," said Robert, breaking a long
miserable silence, "because the Sand-fairy said he'd give us another
wish to-morrow, and he couldn't if we were stone, could he?"