“But can’t you get a bigger one?”
“I might have one made; I don’t—”
“Oh, no—no, Fitz!” the boy interrupted frantically. “Don’t think of doing that; I can’t wait. Can’t you borrow a bigger one?”
“There are no bigger ones, except the mayor’s state balloon. It has two feather beds lashed together for a bag, and a very large car.”
“Can’t you get it—can’t you get it, Fitz?”
“I don’t know, indeed. Then, here’s another difficulty, Bob, and a greater one to my mind.”
“Oh, Fitz!” the boy moaned, wringing his hands. “You don’t mean it!”
“Yes, I do,” said the goblin, nodding gravely; but his twinkling pop eyes belied his words. “You see, Bob, you’re the first human being that has ever come to Goblinland. Now, the secrets of the country—including the secret of its whereabouts, have always been carefully guarded. I don’t know what his honor, the mayor, will say about letting you go.”
“I won’t tell anything, Fitz, I won’t—I won’t!”
“Not a thing?” questioned Fitz Mee.