‘No,’ said the Phoenix, ‘I see it hasn’t.’
‘But I thought it was a wishing carpet?’
‘So it is,’ said the Phoenix.
‘Then why—?’ asked the children, altogether.
‘I did tell you, you know,’ said the Phoenix, ‘only you are so fond of listening to the music of your own voices. It is, indeed, the most lovely music to each of us, and therefore—’
‘You did tell us WHAT?’ interrupted an Exasperated.
‘Why, that the carpet only gives you three wishes a day and YOU’VE HAD THEM.’
There was a heartfelt silence.
‘Then how are we going to get home?’ said Cyril, at last.
‘I haven’t any idea,’ replied the Phoenix, kindly. ‘Can I fly out and get you any little thing?’