"I've zought of some'sing," she cried, and turning to Miss King,
"Does you like eggs?" she inquired.
"Very much," said her cousin.
"Zen, if you'll tell us stories, I'll get you eggs. Kite, kite fresh. Doesn't you like them kite fresh?"
"Yes, quite fresh; they can't be too fresh," said Magdalen.
"Can't be too fresh," repeated Hoodie. "Zat means just the moment minute they'se laid. Oh, that'll be lovely. And when'll you tell us some stories, please?"
"Let's see," said Cousin Magdalen. "I'll have to think, and thinking takes a good long while."
"Nebber mind," said Hoodie. "You'll zink as soon as you can, won't you, dear?"
And for the rest of the morning's walk she was perfectly angelic, in consequence of which Cousin Magdalen felt more completely puzzled by her than ever.
The day passed over pretty smoothly. Late in the afternoon, just as the children were preparing for a run in the garden before tea, an excitement got up in the nursery by the absence of Hoodie's basket, which she insisted on taking out with her.