"It’s queer, of course," she said, "because we don’t know each other well; but I can do it, if you like.”
"I do like,” he said, and he laughed again.
“Very well,” said Meg. “My name’s Margaret Macleod. I’m called Meg, for short. My brother’s name is Robin, and Ben’s is Ben Nowell. Where shall we go first?”
"You are the leader of the party,” he answered, his face beginning to brighten a little. “Where shall it be?”
"The Palace of the Genie of the Flowers,” she said.
"Is that what it is called? "he asked.
“That’s what we call it,” she explained. “That’s part of the fairy story. We are part of a fairy story, and all these are palaces that the Genii built for the Great Magician.”
“That’s first-rate,” he said. “Just tell us about it. Ben and I have not heard.”
At first she had wondered if she could tell her stories to a grown-up person, but there was something in his voice and face that gave her the feeling that she could. She laughed a little when she began; but he listened with enjoyment that was so plain, and Ben walking by her side looked up with such eager, enraptured, and wondering eyes, that she went on bravely. It grew, as stories will, in being told, and
