"Yes, Daddy." It was Margaret who replied. "We were trying to get to the other end—"
"So's we could tread on our own heads," said Frances, who never liked to be left out of the conversation.
"Ah! A difficult thing to do. Nobody ever succeeded yet that I know of except little Tom Titmouse, and very much surprised he was when he got there."
"Why?" asked both children, with eager anticipation, scenting a story.
"Be-cause," replied their father, spreading out the word in order to give himself time to think. "Because—But it's too long a story to tell you now, children, for I must leave in a minute. So the story must wait till this evening—unless you should manage to catch your shadows before I get home again, and then you can tell me whether it is all true or not."
"Whether what is all true, Daddy?" asked Margaret.
"Why, all those things that Tommy Titmouse saw: King Coco Bolo and the Archbishop and Lobsterneck, the Great American Snap-dragon, and—but I must go, children. I must be off. Good-bye! There's my car coming now."
So saying, Daddy ran to the street corner, and there, with a wave of his hand, he vanished, leaving the two little girls standing before the front gate, thinking.
"We'll try this morning," said Margaret with decision. "We'll start just as soon as Edward goes upstairs for his nap."