The Kite's Little Game
The Kite laughed and chuckled to himself until his paper fairly crackled.
"We shall have such a game," said he to his paper Tails.
"We mostly do," squeaked the Tails.
There were eighteen of them, and they were all very frisky.
The Kite first winked one eye, then the other, then winked both together.
I'm afraid he was rather a vulgar sort of a Kite, but he was very jolly. His eyes were inclined to be goggly, yellow round the outside, with red in the middle. He was not a particularly good-looking Kite—in fact, he was really ugly—but he was very funny, and loved a joke.
The string suddenly wakened up out of a nap, hearing talk going on, "Eh, what's that?" said he.
"Don't know," said the Tails.
The Kite laughed again, and shook his round ears, and showed all his teeth in one wide grin. "We'll have a game this afternoon," said he, once more.
"Oh," said the String. "We mostly do."
The Kite stuck up his pointed chin, and shook his red paper beard. "I mean a different sort of game to what you mean," said he. "You mean, we have a game when young Walter takes us out. But I don't mean that."
"Then what do you mean?" said the String, who didn't care about guessing.
"When he takes us out, we have to go where he likes, and fly when he chooses us to fly," said the Kite. "Now I mean, we'll fly young Walter."
"Eh?" said the String.
The String was rather sleepy-headed, and didn't take in new ideas very quickly. He was so astonished now that he unrolled himself several yards, and wriggled about round the Kite, to look at him, as if he must be out of his mind.
"Eh?" said all the Tails, after a flutter of surprise. But they thought it was a joke, and that the Kite only meant to be funny. The Kite straightened himself, and looked very important. "When I say a thing, I mean it," said he, in a dignified manner.
"Well, but—" said one Tail, timidly.
"Well, but what?" snapped the Kite. "You don't know what you're talking about. I say we'll fly—"
At that minute up came Walter. He took hold of the Kite, and was winding up the String, when the Kite said—
"Master Walter, let's fly you to day!"
Walter stared and laughed.
"You couldn't," said he. "You're only made of paper."
"Let us try," said the Kite.
"I mustn't go far, then," said Walter, "because my mother would wonder where I was."
So the String was tied about Walter, and up he flew. It was very jolly, and he flew here and there like a bird. The Kite and the String were delighted, and the Tails kept on a chatter, chatter, chatter, like eighteen little magpies all in a row. But the Kite found it hard work after a time. He had to mind the string, and watch lest Walter should tumble down, and keep on doing this and doing that, instead of pleasantly fluttering about. He got cross and grumpy at last. "I think the old way's the best," said he. "Next time I'll go up. Old ways are best, after all."
