them off at arm's length and looking at them with frank admiration.
"They're as good as new. Now let me show you what to do with 'em next
time you come."

So saying, he dropped them into the holder, where they looked very
pretty sparkling on the whipped cream cushion.

"Now," he said, "you carry them, and I'll bring the pedestal."

He tucked the pedestal under his arm, and they started back down the
road together. It was very lovely to be trudging along under the late
clear sky, through the sweet-smelling pollen-dust, and now and then
meeting the sunset sheep, who, by this time, had found their little
lambs. When they got back to the Garden, and stood in front of the
gate through which Sara had entered, Schlorge had Sara sit down at
once. It was really an unnecessary precaution, he said, since the
holder was a non-conductor of dimple-waves, and not even the Snimmy
could detect their presence when they were inside of it. "Still," said
Schlorge, "I'll feel safer about 'em when they're on the pedestal out
of his reach," and with that he took the globe from Sara's hands and
fastened it deftly on the pedestal. Sara had never enjoyed herself
more than she did as she sat by the amber waters in the fading light,
watching the kind, clumsy Koopf (who was yet so skilful at his own
work) place the pretty globe with so much pride and pleasure. She kept
sniffing, meanwhile, at the tantalizing perfume that seemed to sift
downward from the feathers of the Plynck, as she stirred, ever so
softly, in her dreams.

At last the Koopf took a large slice of onion, which the Snimmy's wife
had left convenient, and rubbed it all around the base of the