“I don’t doubt it,” she replied.
When they had climbed to the hayloft they stood directly under the little window that looked out over the grove. The hollow branch just outside it acted like a speaking tube and carried their voices out through the hole in the tree as they chanted:
“You’re standing beside the talking tree,
But the voices you hear are Peter and me-ee!”
Judy knew how hollow their voices must sound to Honey. A moment later she was racing toward the barn.
“So that’s it!” she charged. “You two spooks can haunt the grove whenever you want to by hiding in the hayloft and talking out that little window.”
Now she was convinced that the superstition had started when someone in the barn had accidentally frightened Horace.
“He’s so silly,” she said fondly, “but I can’t help loving him for it. And isn’t it wonderful how things have turned out for Mrs. Riker and the magician?”
“It certainly is,” agreed Judy. “He gave her a ring just the way Rama did in the story. But, best of all, the collection is saved for future Ramas and Sitas. It’s nice to know what’s expected of the ideal man and woman, isn’t it? Peter,” she asked abruptly, “am I your ideal?”
“You’re my Judy,” he replied, “and that’s even better. What was it you said about every day beginning a new mystery?”