'Are you going away for long?' asked Anthea.

'I've got a cold,' said mother, 'and daddy's anxious about it, and
the Lamb's cough.'

'He hasn't coughed since Saturday,' the Lamb's eldest sister
interrupted.

'I wish I could think so,' mother replied. 'And daddy's got to go
to Scotland. I do hope you'll be good children.'

'We will, we will,' said Anthea, fervently. 'When's the bazaar?'

'On Saturday,' said mother, 'at the schools. Oh, don't talk any
more, there's a treasure! My head's going round, and I've
forgotten how to spell whooping-cough.'


Mother and the Lamb went away, and father went away, and there was
a new cook who looked so like a frightened rabbit that no one had
the heart to do anything to frighten her any more than seemed
natural to her.

The Phoenix begged to be excused. It said it wanted a week's rest,
and asked that it might not be disturbed. And it hid its golden
gleaming self, and nobody could find it.

So that when Wednesday afternoon brought an unexpected holiday, and
every one decided to go somewhere on the carpet, the journey had to
be undertaken without the Phoenix. They were debarred from any