“That’s a jolly bad start!” exclaimed Tibbs.
“’Es, it is!” echoed Kiddiwee.
“I don’t call it a start at all,” pouted Coppertop. “I’m afraid we’ve made an emeny of him.”
“Enemy, you mean,” corrected Tibbs. “Yes, I’m afraid we have. But that makes it all the more exciting.”
“’Es, it does too!” said Kiddiwee.
Just then a sharp breeze sprang up, flattening their gauzy wings (of course, they all had wings) against their sides, and nearly blowing them off the cloud upon which they were standing.
“I have an idea!” cried Tibbs, his face brightening up. “Let’s call on the Four Winds. They’re some of the Powers-that-be, and maybe they’ll help us.”
“Very well, then,” assented Coppertop, but without much enthusiasm; she never liked the Winds very much, they always made her hair so untidy. “But which shall we call on first? We ought to know before we start.”
“The South Wind, I should think; I expect he looks after the July days.”
“Oh, but he’s so cold! He nips my nose and fingers. I don’t like him one bit!” cried poor Coppertop, shivering at the very idea.