watchfully back over her shoulder at the sleeping Snimmy, she said
grudgingly to them both, "Now get up careful."

Sara rose to her feet, and the Teacup lifted her dainty little skirt
ever so slightly. The minute the perfume from the dimples reached the
Snimmy (he couldn't smell those in Sara's hand, of course, so long as
she was sitting down), he sprang to his feet, quivering; but almost
immediately he caught a whiff of the onions, and sank down again,
entirely overcome, into a deep sleep.

The Teacup arose and shook out her skirts. She picked up the tiny,
sparkling piece of dimple she had been protecting so long, and handed
it prettily to Sara. "Now, my dear," she said, "I think I shall return
to my mistress. I would suggest that you take your dimples to the shop
immediately." So saying, she hopped up into the tree and settled
quietly down beside the dreaming Plynck, taking great care not to
disturb her. And Sara started down the path toward the Dimplesmithy.

The path turned presently into a wide road, very pleasant and
peaceful-looking, and so deep with pollen-dust that Sara's shoes soon
looked as if they were powdered with gold. Sunset sheep came wandering
down the road now and then, and lines of white geese, and once she
passed a little pond where green ducks were quacking and paddling; the
road was so pretty, indeed, that it was hard for her to keep her mind
on finding the Dimplesmithy. There were tall Gugollaph-trees all along
the road, here and there, but Sara felt sure she would know the right
one when she saw it. And sure enough, there it was, with the smithy in
the shade of it, and the Koopf blowing up the fire in his forge with a
pair of puff-ball bellows. She knew now why he had hurried home so
fast: it was to put on his apron. It was of the finest mouse-hide, and