and the lion's stone wings--well it's not a very pretty story! But I
believe the boy enjoyed himself very much till then."

"Tell me," said Anthea, "why don't our wishes turn into stone now? Why
do they just vanish?"

"_Autre temps autres moeurs_," said the creature.

"Is that the Ninevite language?" asked Anthea, who had learned no
foreign language at school except French.

"What I mean is," the Psammead went on, "that in the old days people
wished for good solid everyday gifts,--Mammoths and Pterodactyls and
things,--and those could be turned into stone as easy as not. But people
wish such high-flying fanciful things nowadays. How are you going to
turn being beautiful as the day, or being wanted by everybody, into
stone? You see it can't be done. And it would never do to have two
rules, so they simply vanish. If being beautiful as the day _could_ be
turned into stone it would last an awfully long time, you know--much
longer than you would. Just look at the Greek statues. It's just as
well as it is. Good-bye. I _am_ so sleepy."

It jumped off her lap--dug frantically, and vanished.

Anthea was late for breakfast. It was Robert who quietly poured a
spoonful of molasses down the Lamb's frock, so that he had to be taken
away and washed thoroughly directly after breakfast. And it was of
course a very naughty thing to do; yet it served two purposes--it
delighted the Lamb, who loved above all things to be completely sticky,
and it engaged Martha's attention so that the others could slip away to