"Is there anything in this world you desire?" he asked her.

"A--a glass of water----"

She was already holding it in her hands, and she cried out in amazement,
spilling the brimming glass; but no water fell, only a rain of little
crimson flames.

"I can't--can't drink this--can I?" she faltered.

"With perfect safety," he smiled, and she tasted it.

"Taste it again," he said.

She tried it; it was lemonade.

"Again."

It was ginger ale.

"Once more."

She stared at the glass, frothing with ice-cream soda; there was a long
silver spoon in it, too.

Enchanted, she lay back, savoring her ice, shyly watching him.

He went on gayly doing uncanny or charming things; her eyes were tired,
dazzled, but not too weary to watch him, though she scarcely followed the
marvelous objects that appeared and vanished and glittered and flamed