‘They’ve got the cap put away,’ she said. ‘They seem to think a lot of it. Never saw one before, I expect.’
‘Are you happy?’ asked Anthea, panting; the sight of the cook as queen quite took her breath away.
‘I believe you, my dear,’ said the cook, heartily. ‘Nothing to do unless you want to. But I’m getting rested now. Tomorrow I’m going to start cleaning out my hut, if the dream keeps on, and I shall teach them cooking; they burns everything to a cinder now unless they eats it raw.’
‘But can you talk to them?’
‘Lor’ love a duck, yes!’ the happy cook-queen replied; ‘it’s quite easy to pick up. I always thought I should be quick at foreign languages. I’ve taught them to understand “dinner,” and “I want a drink,” and “You leave me be,” already.’
‘Then you don’t want anything?’ Anthea asked earnestly and anxiously.
‘Not me, miss; except if you’d only go away. I’m afraid of me waking up with that bell a-going if you keep on stopping here a-talking to me. Long as this here dream keeps up I’m as happy as a queen.’
‘Goodbye, then,’ said Anthea, gaily, for her conscience was clear now.
She hurried into the wood, threw herself on the ground, and said ‘Home’—and there she was, rolled in the carpet on the nursery floor.
‘SHE’S all right, anyhow,’ said Anthea, and went back to bed. ‘I’m glad somebody’s pleased. But mother will never believe me when I tell her.’