She stood with hands on hips, critically appraising the ship.
Aha! The ship! That's what it is, Harvey thought triumphantly.
"I see you tried to land it again," the girl said dryly. Again? Harvey wondered, but said nothing. She walked over to the ship, lifted the gargantuan structure by a wingtip, and scowled back at him.
"Well, don't just stand there like an idiot. Come give me a hand."
He was surprised at the ease with which they handled the rocket. They soon had it righted, and the girl stood back and gazed at it worryingly.
"There," she said. It sounded final. A look of vague annoyance crossed her pretty features. She shook her long, brown hair into place, flicked an imaginary speck of dust off her spotless white trousers, rolled the sleeves of her blouse up, and ... erased the ship.
"Hey!" shouted Harvey wildly, "You can't do that!" He stared in dumb amazement at the fading after-image of the ship. Beyond it, the long upward slope of the yellow, grassy hill was crowned by a huge Castle.
"Don't be silly, Harvey dear. Come on, it's playtime." He followed her, for some reason, up the slope to the Palace.
Playtime, Harvey learned, consisted of a pleasant swim in the purple waters of the Palace moat, followed by a delicious feast of some sort of orange fruit faintly resembling wax-covered ladybugs. They—he and the girl and a pet animal with a disturbing tendency to change shape every three seconds—were seated in a rather large floral garden (there was a faunal one somewhere nearby, Harvey learned), gazing. That is to say, the girl was gazing at the garden, the animal at Harvey, and Harvey at her. It must have been a pleasant experience all around, for they started laughing after a few minutes.