“Goodness gracious! Then this must be a thundercloud we’re in!” gasped Coppertop.
And it was.
It very soon commenced to roar and rumble round them in a most terrifying way, and vivid flashes of lightning shot here and there and zig-zagged across the sky. It grew so dark that the children could scarcely see each other, and had no idea in which direction to fly.
“Oh, my hair is on fire!” cried Coppertop, after a vivid flash. “Oh, whatever shall I do? Please put it out, somebody. Quickly!”
“Oh, my hair is on fire!” cried Coppertop.
But it was a false alarm. Her little red head wasn’t more on fire than usual, but it was full of electricity, and sparkled and crackled all over. And when she put up her hand, to feel if her ribbons were still there, her hair went off in sharp explosions wherever her fingers touched it.
“Oough, how funny!” exclaimed Kiddiwee, “Cece has turned into a real firework.”
“It’s not at all funny. I only hope I’m not a rocket, and that my head won’t shoot off!”