They had a very nice tea, and ate twenty-four cakes between them. They finished up with ices, washed down by a rather sweet lemonade, and then felt able to go out into the sun once more.
"Let's go and sit down by the river," said Bets. "It will be cooler there. There's always a breeze by the water!"
They made their way out of the Fair. Bets suddenly caught sight of a lovely patch of gay colour, and she stopped. "Pip! Look at those air-balloons! I do love a balloon. Have you got enough money to buy me one?"
"Don't be a baby," said Pip. "Fancy wanting a balloon like any three-year-old kid!"
"Well, I do," said Bets obstinately. They all went over to where the old woman sat, holding her bunch of gay balloons. She was a shapeless old dame, with a red shawl over her shoulders and head, though the day was hot. Untidy hair hung in wisps over her brown, wrinkled face, but she had surprisingly bright eyes.
"Balloon, young sir?" said she to Pip, in a cracked old voice.
"No thanks,'' said Pip. But Bets pulled his arm.
"Oh, do buy me one, Pip. Oh, I wish Fatty was here. He'd buy me one. They're so pretty!"
"Well, but they're sixpence each!" said Pip, looking at the price label hanging from the string of balloons. "Sixpence! It's robbery. No, I can't lend you sixpence for that. Mother would think I was mad."
"She can have one for half-price," croaked the old woman kindly. Bets looked at Pip.