“see me dance the polka!” went the old tune—and then again and again—and peggy lay in bed listening to it and staring at the fire.
the children next door were having a party in their[44] hall, and every time the front door opened the sound of the music came crashing out, and jumped in through peggy’s open window. of course, she ought to have been at the party too, but, for one thing, she had had a cold all day, and for another, nurse didn’t think the children next door had properly got over measles, so she was afraid to let peggy go.
peggy hadn’t much minded until now. nurse had petted her all day and given her little bits of buttered toast at tea with apricot jam on them, and then had let the housemaid come up and play dominoes with her until bedtime, and now she had tucked her up warmly in bed with a hot-water bottle and told her to go to sleep quickly, so that she should be quite well before mother came home the next day.
but go to sleep was just what peggy couldn’t do. for one thing, thinking of mother coming back was enough to make her keep wanting to jump out of bed and dance all over the room. and then the music too had begun to make her rather long to run into the house next door and play musical chairs with all the other children.
it was then that she suddenly felt the ring pressing on her thumb, and realised that she had quite forgotten to wish at all that day!
“oh dear, suppose it hadn’t come, i might have forgotten altogether,” she thought in dismay. “and now i’m rather frightened of seeing the giant, in case he’s angry about the mayor. i wonder what i’d better wish?”
she lay in bed thinking about it for quite a long time, until suddenly hearing some carriages driving off and the music stopping, she realised she was too late to wish to join the children’s party next door anyway.
[45]“oh, i wish the giant was here,” she said at last. “he can always think of lovely things to do.”
“your window’s uncommonly small,” said the giant, climbing in through it, and bringing with him big bits of the wall on each shoulder. “gracious me, what a mess i’m in!” he shook himself and lay down on the floor with his face close to the fire. “i’ve been looking in at the party next door,” he went on. “great fun—but they’re gone now. i saw ’em into their cabs. why weren’t you there?”
“because i’ve a cold,” said peggy, sneezing three times. (the giant seemed to have brought in all the cold night air with him.) “nannie thinks i caught it hiding behind the laurels so long yesterday, but i know it was going through that lovely wet yellow cloud!”
the giant’s face clouded over. “least said soonest mended about that,” he said shortly. “i particularly told you of my aversion to mayors, and you at once take one for a drive and leave me behind! that was not in the least what i meant. however, i will say no more. this is your last day but one with me, so we won’t waste it with quarrelling. what’s your wish? be quick now, for this lovely hot fire makes me very sleepy.”
peggy jumped out of bed, caught hold of the giant’s little finger and hugged it.
“i’m so sorry,” she said coaxingly. “i like you better than any mayor that ever was born, giant darling. and i didn’t mean to leave you behind. did you have an awful time?”
“well, i went wandering about the sky for the rest of the night looking for you,” said the giant. “i heard you’d been on the rainbow, but after that i lost all trace of you. still, never mind; as you’re sorry, i don’t mind any more. go on, wish away.”
[46]“it’s no good, i’ve tried to,” said peggy. “we seem to have done everything exciting. we’ve been up——”
“how about going down for a change?” asked the giant.
“down?” said peggy. “but we are down!”
this is a picture of the fifth adventure. the mark on the ceiling is the awful hole the giant and peggy made coming through. the giant is waving his hand to cook as they go down. the footman has only just seen the hole, and is showing it to everybody. the housemaid who played dominoes with peggy is screaming out “stop them, cook!” and the scullery maid has sat down on the floor with her hands over her face. cook is fainting by the table. she had just put a pudding on it for the servants supper. peggy couldn’t put nurse into the picture because she wasn’t sure if she was in the kitchen then or not. you do see the ring, don’t you?
“do you call this down?” said the giant laughing. “come along, get on my hand and wish,” and he laid his hand palm upwards on the hearthrug.
“wish what?” asked peggy, putting on her blue dressing-gown and slippers.
“to go down, of course,” said the giant impatiently. “has your cold made you deaf?”
“oh, all right, i wish to go down,” said peggy, clambering up on to the giant’s hand. “but it sounds very dull—gracious! hold me tight!” for they both at once went right through the nursery floor and into the dining-room below.
“oh, look!” said peggy. “what a mess we’ve made of the ceiling. the table’s all covered with bits of it! oughtn’t we to clear it up?”
“don’t waste time,” said the giant. “come on,” and down through the carpet they went and right into the kitchen.
the servants were all at supper, but peggy had only just time to catch sight of their terrified faces and to hear their chairs crashing to the floor as they all jumped up, before the giant went right through that floor too!
after that they went down so fast that her curls flew up in a waving cone above her head, and the giant’s beard flapped across her face and hid everything. she shut her eyes at last, until—“open them, we’re down!” said the giant, and they both flopped on to some long brown grass.
peggy stared round in astonishment. they were sitting[47] in the middle of a great brown plain, edged all ground with little pointed brown hills rising up to a golden sky. and, “oh, what ducky little houses!” cried peggy, for nestling up the sides of every hill were hundreds of tiny brown thatched cottages, each with a dear little garden in front of it, full of vegetables and brightly coloured berries.
“where on earth are we?” she asked.
“nowhere,” said the giant. “we’re in it. this is the pixies’ country. look, they’re coming out of their houses. do you see them? they’ve heard us coming.”
a great opening of doors sounded from all around, and out poured the pixies, and raced across the plain to peggy and the giant. little fat brown fellows they were, dressed in dark shades of green and red, with round wrinkled faces and pointed caps. when they were quite near, they all stood in a crowd whispering and giggling, till two of them, holding a huge curled-up yellow leaf between them, were pushed forward towards peggy.
“what have they got?” she whispered to the giant.
“an invitation, i expect,” he whispered back, “for the party to-night.”
“what party?” asked peggy, but “hush, don’t, whisper, they’ll think you’re making personal remarks,” answered the giant. “they’re very sensitive.” and certainly the pixies carrying the leaf came to a dead stop, and, apparently overcome with shyness, dropped it on the ground, and raced back to their companions, where they stood sniggering and covering their faces with their hands, and peeping through their fingers at peggy.
“how funny they are!” said peggy in amazement. “why do they do that?”
“i don’t know,” said the giant. “i think it’s because they have so few holidays and see so few people. but[48] they’re a queer lot, and i don’t profess to understand them! you’d better read your invitation.”
peggy picked the leaf up, and, unrolling it, read as follows: “we invite peggy and the giant to a ball in the distant purple caves in half an hour. skating, eating, flitting, mazing, wending and other amusements.”
“oh dear, how exciting! can i go?” asked peggy, beginning to dance about all over the plain.
the giant took the invitation and read it slowly.
“my goodness me, it is going to be a smart affair!” said he. “yes, i think we can manage it all right. only we shall have to dress up for it, i’m afraid. it wouldn’t do to look dowdy.”
“but what do flitting, mazing, and wending mean?” asked peggy, looking at the invitation again.
“well, flitting is flying round one after the other at the very top of the caves and copying everything the front pixie does,” said the giant, “and the one who goes on longest gets a prize. it’s tiring, but exciting; a sort of follow-my-leader, only a better game. and wending is dancing up and down the unexplored passages and seeing who can pick up most diamonds first. they only have it at the very grandest parties. and mazing is—now, what is mazing? i’ve quite forgotten! however, i shall probably remember it in a minute or two.”
“do you accept?” asked a tiny, shy voice at peggy’s elbow, and she looked down to see a pixie standing by her.
“yes, we’d love to come, and it’s very kind of you to ask us,” said peggy very politely. “i hope you’ll excuse my writing,” she added, having sometimes heard her mother say this.
“they’d love to come!” shouted the pixie to the others, and “they’d love to come!” shouted the rest, till the hills[49] echoed with the sound, and then they all turned and raced back to their cottages, stopping now and then to giggle and snigger and look over their shoulders at peggy and the giant, before the little doors slammed again behind them.
“very over-excited indeed,” remarked the giant. “now they’ll take the rest of the time dressing up. and, by the way, we ought to be getting ready too.”
