look at the rain. And why should we give the carpet a rest?'

'Are you greedy and grasping, and heartless and selfish?' asked the
bird, sharply.

'NO!' said Robert, with indignation.

'Well then!' said the Phoenix. 'And as to the rain--well, I am not
fond of rain myself. If the sun knew _I_ was here--he's very fond of
shining on me because I look so bright and golden. He always says
I repay a little attention. Haven't you some form of words
suitable for use in wet weather?'

'There's "Rain, rain, go away,"' said Anthea; 'but it never DOES
go.'

'Perhaps you don't say the invocation properly,' said the bird.

'Rain, rain, go away,
Come again another day,
Little baby wants to play,'

said Anthea.

'That's quite wrong; and if you say it in that sort of dull way, I
can quite understand the rain not taking any notice. You should
open the window and shout as loud as you can--

'Rain, rain, go away,
Come again another day;