‘Rose leaves are dull,’ Charles said, ‘and perhaps the Murdstone man doesn’t like incense.’
‘The real one mayn’t. This one’s got to like what we want it to like,’ said Charlotte. ‘We made him and we know what he’s got to like.’
‘Then we might make it so that he’d like having pins stuck into him,’ Charles suggested hopefully.
‘We might; only we shouldn’t be so silly. Come on, bring the Language Of and the Murdstone man. I’ll get a box and Caro can get the rose leaves. We’ll go out and find a secret place in the wood.’
A cardboard box that had held Charlotte’s best shoes was filled with sweet pink petals and the waxen image put in it. It looked better standing up, but you don’t stand up in a bed, even of rose leaves. A sort of pedestal was built of old bricks brought with some toil from the ruins of the deserted lodge’s pig-stye. A flat stone, which took all three to lift, was placed on top. And on this the box. But the box, which said ‘Smarm and Simple’s Hygienic Footwear’ in blue letters outside, troubled the girls because it was ugly, and Charles because it was untruthful.
‘Whatever he is, he isn’t footwear,’ said Charles. ‘We could make it true by trampling on him, but you won’t agree to that.’
‘No,’ said Caroline, ‘but look here. Let’s paste a bit of my green sash on it, and then put moss round. That’ll make it more woodland-like.’
Cook provided the paste, and Caroline cut the sash. She paste-wetted the first piece of silk so that it came out in wet spots, very messy looking, as Charles did not fail to point out.
‘Never mind,’ said Caroline, ‘I’ll cut another bit—it’s much too long—and use less paste.’
‘More paste less speed,’ said Charlotte. ‘I’ll cut mine. Then they’ll be alike, just as they were before.’