The star of white light overhead grew larger; they became able to distinguish that they were in a kind of shaft; it was not cold or uncomfortable in any way, and the panniers in which they sat were easily cushioned.
'I believe,' began Hildegarde, but she did not finish her sentence. There came another whistle, softer and longer than the first, and something—was it a gentle hand, or the touch of a bird's feathered wing?—they could not tell—made both little girls close their eyes for a moment. And when they opened them again—where were they?
"WHO SENT YOU TO KISS US, YOU BREEZES OF MAY?"