air felt as it ran against their faces. Their wings were tremendously
wide when they were spread out, and they had to fly quite a long way
apart so as not to get in each other's way. But little things like this
are easily learned.

All the words in the English Dictionary, and in the Greek Lexicon as
well, are, I find, of no use at all to tell you exactly what it feels
like to be flying, so I will not try. But I will say that to look _down_
on the fields and woods instead of _along_ at them, is something like
looking at a beautiful live map, where, instead of silly colors on
paper, you have real moving sunny woods and green fields laid out one
after the other. As Cyril said, and I can't think where he got hold of
such a strange expression, "It does you a fair treat!" It was most
wonderful and more like real magic than any wish the children had had
yet. They flapped and flew and sailed on their great rainbow wings,
between green earth and blue sky; and they flew over Rochester and then
swerved round towards Maidstone, and presently they all began to feel
extremely hungry. Curiously enough, this happened when they were flying
rather low, and just as they were crossing an orchard where some early
plums shone red and ripe.

[Illustration: They flew over Rochester]

They paused on their wings. I cannot explain to you how this is done,
but it is something like treading water when you are swimming, and hawks
do it extremely well.

"Yes, I daresay," said Cyril, though no one had spoken. "But stealing is
stealing even if you've got wings."