"You must be quick, Bumps, or else they'll find out we've gone, and run after us. Now, Jack, let us go across this field, it leads down to the river, and no one will find us there because the trees are so thick."
The grass was wet, but that was a trifle. Buttercups were already springing up in the meadow; larks were rising in the air singing their morning hymn of praise, and the children broke into a run. Not a shadow fell on their spirits, they felt exhilarated by the fresh morning breeze.
They reached the river and then began to think of breakfast. Jack with great pride produced his store. It was rather a fragmentary one. Two or three figs, some bits of cake and one orange were divided into three equal portions. The novelty of such a breakfast compensated for the quantity and quality. But when Bumps announced she was thirsty they looked rather dismayed.
"You must drink from the river," said Jill.
"But I might thwallow some fishes," objected Bumps, "and I've no cup."
"Then you must wait till we go home. You can't be thirsty early in the morning."
Bumps heaved a sigh, and looked at the river meditatively.
"It would be nithe to take off shoes and stockings, and go through it like the children Miss Falkner told us of."
"Oh yes, we will," cried Jack. "We'll play at going to the Golden City."