Very gently and carefully, so that he did not touch any of the objects close to him, the snow-white horse knelt down, and, with a shake of his bridle, invited the little girls to climb on his back. They glanced at one another, rather afraid, but Rachel, after a moment’s hesitation, went boldly up to him and, holding tight to his mane, scrambled on to his back.
“Come along!” she called to Diana. “It’s always all right when Sheshà manages anything, and he’s managing this.”
Taking courage, Diana followed, and, in a moment, both children were seated.
“Well done!” exclaimed their steed. “Have no fear, little maidens. You are safe. No harm shall befall you.”
With the last words he began to rise from the pavement, floating slowly upwards.
“Oh! we shall bump against the ceiling!” began Diana, in alarm.
“No. Look! look!! There isn’t any ceiling!” cried Rachel. “It’s all melted away, and there are the stars....”
In another second they were out in the open air, seated as comfortably on the back of the white horse as though they were on the schoolroom sofa, and feeling quite as safe. Below them lay the roof of the British Museum, and beyond it, stretching for miles and miles, all the crowded roofs, the spires, the domes and the lights of London. For a moment they had a glimpse of the wonderful city lying silent under the moonlit sky, and then they soared upwards so high that all sight of it was lost.
“We’re going awfully fast,” whispered Rachel. “Isn’t it perfectly lovely?”
And Diana sighed in perfect content. For, indeed, it was beyond all words wonderful to be rushing through soft, warm air under the moon, and to feel the gentle rocking motion of the horse’s body under them. Faster and faster they flew through the ocean of air, and the children screamed with delight when now and again their giant shadows were thrown for a second upon a white cloud as they shot past in their flight.