Then Jane held up the charm, and Cyril said—
“We want to go to Babylon to look for the part of you that was lost. Will you please let us go there through you?”
“Please put us down just outside,” said Jane hastily; “and then if we don’t like it we needn’t go inside.”
“Don’t be all day,” said the Psammead.
So Anthea hastily uttered the word of power, without which the charm could do nothing.
“Ur—Hekau—Setcheh!” she said softly, and as she spoke the charm grew into an arch so tall that the top of it was close against the bedroom ceiling. Outside the arch was the bedroom painted chest-of-drawers and the Kidderminster carpet, and the washhand-stand with the riveted willow-pattern jug, and the faded curtains, and the dull light of indoors on a wet day. Through the arch showed the gleam of soft green leaves and white blossoms. They stepped forward quite happily. Even Jane felt that this did not look like lions, and her hand hardly trembled at all as she held the charm for the others to go through, and last, slipped through herself, and hung the charm, now grown small again, round her neck.
The children found themselves under a white-blossomed, green-leafed fruit-tree, in what seemed to be an orchard of such trees, all white-flowered and green-foliaged. Among the long green grass under their feet grew crocuses and lilies, and strange blue flowers. In the branches overhead thrushes and blackbirds were singing, and the coo of a pigeon came softly to them in the green quietness of the orchard.
“Oh, how perfectly lovely!” cried Anthea.
“Why, it’s like home exactly—I mean England—only everything’s bluer, and whiter, and greener, and the flowers are bigger.”
The boys owned that it certainly was fairly decent, and even Jane admitted that it was all very pretty.