"Can he?" asked Twinkle, doubtfully.
"Our magician can do anything," declared the Mayor. Then he sat up and put both his front paws to his mouth and made a curious sound that was something like a bark and something like a whistle, but not exactly like either one.
Then everybody waited in silence until a queer old prairie-dog slowly put his head out of a big mound near the center of the village.
"Good morning, Mr. Presto Digi," said the Mayor.
"Morning!" answered the magician, blinking his eyes as if he had just awakened from sleep.
Twinkle nearly laughed at this scrawny, skinny personage; but by good fortune, for she didn't wish to offend him, she kept her face straight and did not even smile.
"We have two guests here, this morning," continued the Mayor, addressing the magician, "who are a little too large to get into our houses. So, as they are invited to stay to luncheon, it would please us all if you would kindly reduce them to fit our underground rooms."
"Is that all you want?" asked Mr. Presto Digi, bobbing his head at the children.
"It seems to me a great deal," answered Twinkle. "I'm afraid you never could do it."