“Only a few steps more! only a few steps more!” murmured the guardian child.
“And we’ll be out of the pleasantest, sweetest-smelling, merriest place,” growled the naughty sprite, with a great roll of rrs and hiss of ss.
One boy lingered behind the other children. He was a jovial-looking little fellow with twinkling blue eyes squeezed up into his ruddy cheeks, the corners of his lips curled up comfortably. He had a comical friendly air; he reminded Kitty of a child Father Christmas.
“You are going the wrong way for the big pie,” he said, in a voice that sounded like a deep rich murmur. It was a comfortable, suetty sort of a voice.
“The big pie!” replied Kitty, surprised and interested. The naughty sprite gave a caper.
“Do not loiter!” whispered the guardian child.
“The biggest pie that ever was made, and the best. Such a pie!” cried the boy. He gathered his fat finger-tips in a bunch, kissed them and spread them open in the air, as if words failed to describe that pie.
“I am following the star,” Kitty remarked in a depressed but resolute tone.
“Time enough after you have had a slice of pie,” whispered the sprite insinuatingly.