They went right over the garden and fields, the Giant striding along through the air with the greatest ease, and at such a pace that often the birds they met had no time to fly out of their way, and flew full tilt against them.
“Phew! that was a narrow shave!” said the Giant, stepping down at last into the middle of a great wood. He put Peggy down on some soft green moss, and leant against an oak tree, panting. “And after all, we left the tea and cake behind!” he added.
Peggy looked up at him. His head was right up above the branches, but she could see his long brown beard among the twigs.
“You squashed them both with your foot,” she said plaintively. “And I don’t understand anyfing! Why did you come at all? Though I like you very much,” she continued quickly. And indeed she had, from the very first moment. For he had such a kind face—though it was not what you would call a clever one exactly—and he was so different from every one else, and looked as though he would play games nicely.
“I came because you wished,” said the Giant. “That’s a Fairy Ring, that is. But it’s not once in a hundred years any children find it—or, when they do, think of putting it on their thumb and wishing. By the way, where was it this time?”
“In a cracker,” said Peggy.
“Ah, I know those crackers,” said the Giant. “One Fairy one to ten million common ones is the average. Let me congratulate you! You’ll be allowed six visits from me, and six wishes each time, before the Ring disappears again. Very liberal, I call it.”
“Do you mean you can let me have everything I wish for, like what happens in the Fairy stories?” asked Peggy in a state of great excitement, and she began to jump about in a very un-grown-up way. “Oh, I wish—I wish this tree was made of chocolate!” she screamed. (You must remember she was rather over-excited, as it was her birthday.)
The Giant immediately handed her down a chocolate cream from one of the boughs; and Peggy noticed a bright shade of brown creeping all over the trunk and branches.
“Wish number three gone,” said the Giant with a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness, that wasn’t difficult. But I’m sorry to tell you I’ve grown rusty, very rusty indeed! It’s so many years since I’ve had anything of this sort to do, that I’ve forgotten how to manage the simplest things.” He sighed deeply till the branches clashed together over Peggy’s head. “I can see by your eye,” he went on gloomily, “that there’s something not quite up to date enough about your dress. And you must have noticed in the nursery that I’d quite forgotten how to disappear quickly. I shall lose my nerve at this rate, I know I shall!” and a large tear dropped at Peggy’s feet.