"I say--it turned out we wanted the Lamb as much as anyone," said
Robert, later.

"Of course."

"But do you feel different about it now the sun's set?"

"_No_," said all the others together.

"Then it's lasted over sunset with us."

"No, it hasn't," Cyril explained. "The wish didn't do anything to _us_.
We always wanted him with all our hearts when we were our proper selves,
only we were all pigs this morning; especially you, Robert." Robert bore
this much with a strange calm.

"I certainly _thought_ I didn't want him this morning," said he.
"Perhaps I _was_ a pig. But everything looked so different when we
thought we were going to lose him."

And that, my dear children, is the moral of this chapter. I did not mean
it to have a moral, but morals are nasty forward beings, and will keep
putting in their oars where they are not wanted. And since the moral has
crept in, quite against my wishes, you might as well think of it next
time you feel piggy yourself and want to get rid of any of your brothers
and sisters. I hope this doesn't often happen, but I daresay it has
happened sometimes, even to you!