“What pond is it?” Harold asked.
“It’s called by some people Spy Pond,” Maida answered, “but I call it the Magic Mirror. It’s our pond and I think I ought to be allowed to call it what I want.”
“I think so too,” agreed Laura.
“What do you mean by our pond?” Arthur asked.
“Just what I say,” Maida replied promptly. “It’s our pond. It belongs to my father and it’s a part of the grounds of Maida’s Little House. We can go swimming in it every day. That is if we don’t prefer—” She broke off in a little embarrassed laugh.
“Oh Maida you are so full of secrets I could kill you,” Rosie threatened.
Maida only laughed.
They passed the pond which stretched for a considerable distance, long and crescent-shaped between its tree-hung banks, and now they were in the real forest. The road was smooth as always and beautifully-kept, but on both sides, the forest had been left to grow as it pleased. It was filled with underbrush. The tree trunks were obscured by great bushes. Here and there through openings, the children could see gigantic rocks thrusting great heads and shoulders out of the masses of rusty-colored leaves.
“Oh isn’t it lovely!” Rosie said in a perfect ecstasy. “Lovely, lovely, lovely!” she went on repeating dreamily as though caught in a trance of delight. She ended with a scream. “Did you see that? What was it Maida?”
“A woodchuck,” Maida answered smilingly.