“There’s the Museum,” said Cyril hopefully; “there are lots of things from your country there. If only we could disguise you a little.”
“I know,” said Anthea suddenly. “Mother’s old theatre cloak, and there are a lot of her old hats in the big box.”
The blue silk, lace-trimmed cloak did indeed hide some of the Queen’s startling splendours, but the hat fitted very badly. It had pink roses in it; and there was something about the coat or the hat or the Queen, that made her look somehow not very respectable.
“Oh, never mind,” said Anthea, when Cyril whispered this. “The thing is to get her out before Nurse has finished her forty winks. I should think she’s about got to the thirty-ninth wink by now.”
“Come on then,” said Robert. “You know how dangerous it is. Let’s make haste into the Museum. If any of those people you made guys of do fetch the police, they won’t think of looking for you there.”
The blue silk coat and the pink-rosed hat attracted almost as much attention as the royal costume had done; and the children were uncommonly glad to get out of the noisy streets into the grey quiet of the Museum.
“Parcels and umbrellas to be left here,” said a man at the counter.
The party had no umbrellas, and the only parcel was the bag containing the Psammead, which the Queen had insisted should be brought.
“I’m not going to be left,” said the Psammead softly, “so don’t you think it.”
“I’ll wait outside with you,” said Anthea hastily, and went to sit on the seat near the drinking fountain.