wished for--just exactly anything, with no bother about its not
being really for their good, or anything like that. And if you
want to know what kind of things they wished for, and how their
wishes turned out you can read it all in a book called Five
Children and It (It was the Psammead). If you've not read it,
perhaps I ought to tell you that the fifth child was the baby
brother, who was called the Lamb, because the first thing he ever
said was 'Baa!' and that the other children were not particularly
handsome, nor were they extra clever, nor extraordinarily good.
But they were not bad sorts on the whole; in fact, they were rather
like you.

'I don't want to think about the pleasures of memory,' said Cyril;
'I want some more things to happen.'

'We're very much luckier than any one else, as it is,' said Jane.
'Why, no one else ever found a Psammead. We ought to be grateful.'

'Why shouldn't we GO ON being, though?' Cyril asked--'lucky, I
mean, not grateful. Why's it all got to stop?'

'Perhaps something will happen,' said Anthea, comfortably. 'Do you
know, sometimes I think we are the sort of people that things DO
happen to.'

'It's like that in history,' said Jane: 'some kings are full of
interesting things, and others--nothing ever happens to them,
except their being born and crowned and buried, and sometimes not
that.'