“He thought for a sly moment. ‘But wouldn’t you love to fly?’ he asked us. ‘Come, hop up into the air with me—up, up, as lightly as the birds on wing. Come, just try it—it’s such a delightful sport, this flying!’
“Then, as if in obedience to his summons, a great breeze sprang up from out of nowhere and swept us all off our feet and up, up—up to where he was floating. And truly, for a few moments, it was delightful sport. But when we wanted to return to earth again—why, the farmer was gone—and there was no returning! We had been tricked into the air and there we must remain, floating, drifting, useless, helpless—we and our families and all our neighbors, together with our household, tables, beds and rags and tags, until this toothless fellow comes again to free us from his cruel magic.”
XXII
PETERKIN IN A MUDDLE
“AND so it is the toothless farmer who has caused all this misery in each of the four valleys,” mused Peterkin, as he floated along at the side of Pater Familias. “Well, here’s my solemn oath on it: I shall have revenge on him, and force him to substitute joy for sorrow in each of these stricken kingdoms.”
Then he bade farewell to the People-Up-in-the-Air and floated away on the breath of the air—away to the boundaries of their land.
But it was not high mountains and snowy cliffs which hemmed this valley from its neighbors. Instead, the land below grew flatter and more yellow. Peterkin passed over wide, misty stretches of marsh and bogs; in the distance he could hear the faint roar of waves. Yes, he was coming to the sea. He was drifting fast toward that golden line of sands where the ocean met the land in a jagged, wavering line of frothy white.
He must swoop down to earth now—else he might be carried out into midwater. He must set foot upon the ground! But alas! try as he would, he was still in the Land of Up-in-the-Air—and up in the air he must stay!
