"Not so dusty," said Cyril generously; and Robert added, "Really, Panther, you're not quite such a fool as you look."
Jane said, "I think it would be perfectly lovely. It's like a bright dream of delirium."
They found the Sand-fairy easily. Anthea said—
"I wish we all had beautiful wings to fly with."
The Sand-fairy blew himself out, and next moment each child felt a funny feeling, half heaviness and half lightness, on its shoulders. The Psammead put its head on one side and turned its snail eyes from one side to the other.
The Sand-fairy blew himself out
"Not so bad," it said dreamily. "But really, Robert, you're not quite such an angel as you look." Robert almost blushed.
The wings were very big, and more beautiful than you can possibly imagine—for they were soft and smooth, and every feather lay neatly in its place. And the feathers were of the most lovely mixed changing colors, like the rainbow, or iridescent glass, or the beautiful scum that sometimes floats on water that is not at all nice to drink.