"These are the magic rings," she said.
"Are they, indeed, now?" said the nurse, used to being interested, fictitiously, but at the shortest notice, in anything childish.
On the next day Netta felt the need of a temple. The romance of the rings was growing rapidly. Invested with a mysterious origin and properties not yet fully defined, but vaguely magical, they required to be enshrined in a temple. For one night they had put up with the shelter of the toy-cupboard. But in view of their character they were now to have a place apart. Netta went to her father and asked him if he had an empty box that he could spare.
"Would a cardboard box do?"
"Yes. It ought to be pure white, though."
The pure white cardboard box was found and given to her. This became the temple. Netta placed the three magic rings in it, and called her brother, who was a year older than she, and at that time rather a pious little prig.
"Would you like to see what's in that box, Jimmy?"
"It's a temple, and I don't think I shall let you. I certainly shan't let everybody."
"You ought to let me see, because I'm your brother."