"Grammercy for thy courtesy, fair sir knight. The fact is, it's like this—and I hope you're not in a hurry, because the story's rather a breather. Father and mother are away, and when we went down playing in the sand-pits we found a Psammead."
"I cry thee mercy! A Sammyadd?" said the knight.
"Yes, a sort of—of fairy, or enchanter—yes, that's it, an enchanter; and he said we could have a wish every day, and we wished first to be beautiful."
"Thy wish was scarce granted," muttered one of the men-at-arms, looking at Robert, who went on as if he had not heard, though he thought the remark very rude indeed.
"And then we wished for money—treasure, you know; but we couldn't spend it. And yesterday we wished for wings, and we got them, and we had a ripping time to begin with"—
"Thy speech is strange and uncouth," said Sir Wulfric de Talbot. "Repeat thy words—what hadst thou?"
"A ripping—I mean a jolly—no—we were contented with our lot—that's what I mean; only, after we got into an awful fix."
"What is a fix? A fray, mayhap?"
"No—not a fray. A—a—a tight place."
"A dungeon? Alas for thy youthful fettered limbs!" said the knight, with polite sympathy.