The Phoenix And The Carpet, Chapter 3

Join all five children as they travel on the magic carpet to visit tropical shores, hoping that the heat will cure the Lamb's whooping cough. Find out what happens when the cook accidentally comes with them.

Transcript

It's Mandy here. Welcome back to the magical world of The Phoenix and the Carpet. It was written by Edith Nesbitt, Who was known simply as E. Nesbitt, And who wrote The Railway Children. And tonight's chapter, Chapter three, Is called The Queen Cook. Before I start reading, Please go ahead and make yourself really comfortable, And I'll begin. It was on a Saturday that the children made their first glorious journey on the wishing carpet. Unless you are too young to read at all, You will know that the next day must have been Sunday. Sunday at 18 Camden Terrace, Camden Town, Was always a very pretty day. Father always brought home flowers on Saturday so that the breakfast table was extra beautiful. In November, Of course, The flowers were chrysanthemums, Yellow and coppery coloured. Then there were always sausages on toast for breakfast, And these are rapture after six days of Kentish town road eggs at 14 O'Shilling. On this particular Sunday, There were fowls for dinner, A kind of food that is generally kept for birthdays and grand occasions. And there was an angel pudding when rice and milk and oranges and white icing do their best to make you very happy. After dinner, Father was very sleepy indeed because he had been working hard all the week, But he didn't yield to the voice that said, Go and have an hour's rest. Instead, He nursed the lamb who had a horrid cough that Cook said was whooping cough, As sure as eggs. And he said, Come along kiddies, I've got a ripping book from the library called The Golden Age and I'll read it to you. Mother settled herself on the drawing room sofa and said she could listen quite nicely with her eyes shut. The lamb snugged into the armchair corner of Daddy's arm and the others got into a happy heap on the hearth rug. At first, Of course, There were too many feet and knees and shoulders and elbows, But real comfort was actually settling down on them and the phoenix and the carpet were put away on the back top shelf of their minds. Beautiful things that could be taken out and played with later, When a surly solid knock came at the drawing room door. It opened an angry inch and the Cook's voice said, Please um, May I speak to you a moment? Mother looked at Father with a desperate expression. Then she put her pretty sparkly Sunday shoes down from the sofa and stood up in them and sighed. As good fish in the sea, Said Father cheerfully, And it was not until much later that the children understood what he meant. Mother went out into the passage, Which is called the hall, Where the umbrella stand is and the picture of the monarch of the glen in a yellow shining frame with brown spots on the monarch from the damp in the house before last. And there was Cook, Very red and damp in the face and with a clean apron tied on all crooked over the dirty one that she had dished up those dear delightful chickens in. She stood there and she seemed to get redder and damper and she twisted the corner of her apron around her fingers and she said very shortly and fiercely, If you please ma'am I should wish to leave at my day month. Mother leaned against the hat stand. The children could see her looking pale through the crack of the door because she had been very kind to the Cook and had given her a holiday only the day before, And it seemed so very unkind of the Cook to want to go like this and on a Sunday too. Why, What's the matter? Mother said. It's them children, The Cook replied, And somehow the children all felt that they had known this from the first. They didn't remember having done anything extra wrong, But it is so frightfully easy to displease a Cook. It's them children. There's that there new carpet in their room covered thick with mud, Both sides beastly yellow mud and Sakes Alive knows where they got it, And all that muck to clean up on a Sunday. It's not my place and it's not my intentions, So I don't deceive you ma'am, And but for them limbs, Which they is, If ever there was, It's not a bad place, Though I says it and I wouldn't wish to leave, But I'm very sorry, Said Mother gently. I will speak to the children and you'd better think it over, And if you really wish to go, Tell me tomorrow. Next day Mother had a quiet talk with Cook and Cook said she didn't mind if she stayed on a bit just to see, But meantime the question of the muddy carpet had been gone into thoroughly by Father and Mother. Jane's candid explanation that the mud had come from the bottom of a foreign tower where there was buried treasure was received with such chilling disbelief that the others limited their defence to an expression of sorrow and of a determination not to do it again, But Father said, And Mother agreed with him because Mothers have to agree with Fathers and not because it was her own idea, That children who coated a carpet on both sides with thick mud and when they were asked for an explanation could only talk silly nonsense, That meant Jane's truthful statement, Were not fit to have a carpet at all and indeed shouldn't have one for a week. So the carpet was brushed with tea leaves too, Which was the only comfort Anthea could think of, And folded up and put away in the cupboard at the top of the stairs and Daddy put the key in his trouser pocket, Till Saturday said he. Never mind said Anthea, We've still got the phoenix. But as it happened they hadn't, The phoenix was nowhere to be found and everything had suddenly settled down from the rosy wild beauty of magic happenings to the common damp brownness of ordinary November life in Camden town. And there was the nursery floor, All bare boards in the middle and brown oil cloth round the outside and the bareness and yellowness of the middle floor showed up the black beetles with terrible distinctness when the poor things came out in the evening, Trying as usual to make friends with the children, But the children never would. The Sunday ended in gloom, Which even junket for supper in the blue Dresden bowl could hardly lighten at all, And next day the lamb's cough was worse. It certainly seemed very whoopee and the doctor came in his brown carriage. Everyone tried to bear up under the weight of the sorrow, Which it was to know that the wishing carpet was locked up and the phoenix mislaid. A good deal of time was spent in looking for the phoenix. It's a bird of its word said Anthea, I'm sure it's not deserted us, But you know it had an awfully long fly from wherever it was to near Rochester and back and I expect the poor things feeling tired out and wants rest. I am sure we may trust it. The others tried to feel sure of this too. No one could be expected to feel very kindly towards the cook since it was entirely through her making such a fuss about a little foreign mud that the carpet had been taken away. She might have told us, Said Jane, And Panther and I would have cleaned it with tea leaves. She's a cantankerous cat, Said Robert. I shan't say what I think about her, Said Anthea, Primly, Because it would be evil speaking, Lying and slandering. It's not lying to say she's a disagreeable pig and a beastly blue-nosed boswos, Said Cyril. And all the children, Even Anthea, Agreed that even if she wasn't a blue-nosed boswos, They wished Cook had never been born. But I ask you to believe that they didn't do all the things on purpose which so annoyed the cook during the following week, Though I dare say the things would not have happened if the cook had been a favourite. This is a mystery. Explain it if you can. The things that had happened were as follows. Sunday, Discovery of foreign mud on both sides of the carpet. Monday, Licorice put on to boil with aniseed balls in a saucepan. Anthea did this because she thought it would be good for the lamb's cough. The whole thing forgotten, The bottom of the saucepan burned out. It was the little saucepan lined with white that was kept for the baby's milk. Tuesday, A dead mouse found in the pantry. Fish slice taken to dig grave with. By regrettable accident, Fish slice broken. Defence, The cook oughtn't to keep dead mice in pantries. Wednesday, Chopped suet left on kitchen table. Robert added chopped soap, But he says he thought the suet was soap too. Thursday, Broke the kitchen window by falling against it during a perfectly fair game of bandits in the area. Friday, Stopped up grating of kitchen sink with putty and filled sink with water to make a lake to sail paper boats in. Went away and left tap running. Kitchen hearthrug and cook's shoes ruined. On Saturday, The carpet was restored. There had been plenty of time during the week to decide where it should be asked to go when they did get it back. Mother had gone over to Granny's and had not taken the lamb because he had a bad cough, Which, Cook repeatedly said, Was whooping cough, As sure as eggs is eggs. But we'll take him out, A ducky darling, Said Anthea. We'll take him somewhere where you can't have whooping cough. Don't be silly, Robert. If he does talk about it, No one will take any notice. He's always talking about things he's never seen. So, They dressed the lamb and themselves in out of doors clothes. And the lamb chuckled and coughed and laughed and coughed again, Poor dear. And all the chairs and tables were moved off the carpet by the boys, While Jane nursed the lamb and Anthea rushed through the house in one last wild hunt for the missing phoenix. It's no use waiting for it, She said, Reappearing breathless in the breakfast room. But I know it hasn't deserted us. It's a bird of its word. Quite so, Said the gentle voice of the phoenix from beneath the table. Everyone fell on its knees and looked up. And there was the phoenix, Perched on a crossbar of wood that ran across under the table and had once supported a drawer in the happy days before the drawer had been used as a boat and its bottom, Unfortunately, Chodden out by Raggett's really reliable school boots on the feet of Robert. I've been here all the time, Said the phoenix, Yawning politely behind its claw. If you wanted me, You should have recited the Ode of Invocation. It's 7, 000 lines long and written in very pure and beautiful Greek. Couldn't you tell it us in English, Asked Anthea. It's rather long, Isn't it, Said Jane, Jumping the lamb on her knee. Couldn't you make a short English version, Like Tate and Brady? Oh, Come along, Do, Said Robert, Holding out his hand. Come along, Good old phoenix. Good old beautiful phoenix, The phoenix corrected Shirley. Good old beautiful phoenix, Then. Come along, Come along, Said Robert, Impatiently, With his hand still held out. The phoenix fluttered at once onto his wrist. This amiable youth, It said to the others, Has miraculously been able to put the whole meaning of the 7, 000 lines of Greek invocation into one English hexameter. A little misplaced, Some of the words, But, Oh, Come along, Come along, Good old beautiful phoenix. Not perfect, I admit, But not bad for a boy of his age. Well now, Then, Said Robert, Stepping back onto the carpet with the golden phoenix on his wrist. You look like the king's falconer, Said Jane, Sitting down on the carpet with the baby on her lap. Robert tried to go on looking like that. Cyril and Anthea stood on the carpet. We shall have to get back before dinner, Said Cyril, Or Cook will blow the gaff. She hasn't sneaked since Sunday, Said Anthea. She, Robert was beginning, When the door burst open and the Cook, Fierce and furious, Came in like a whirlwind and stood on the corner of the carpet with a broken basin in one hand and a threat in the other, Which was clenched. Look here, She cried, My only basin, And what the powers am I to make the beefsteak and kidney pudding in that your ma ordered for your dinners? You don't deserve no dinners, So you don't. I'm awfully sorry, Cook, Anthea said gently. It was my fault and I forgot to tell you about it. It got broken when we were telling our fortunes with melted lead, You know, And I meant to tell you. Meant to tell me, Replied the Cook. She was red with anger and really, I don't wonder. Meant to tell? Well, I mean to tell too. I've held my tongue this week through, Because the missus, She said to me quiet like, We mustn't expect old heads on young shoulders, But now I shan't hold it no longer. There was the soap you put in our pudding and me and Eliza never so much as breathed it to your ma, Though well we might, And the saucepan and the fish slice and my gracious, Cat's alive and what have you got that blessed child dressed up in his outdoors for? We aren't going to take him out, Said Anthea, At least. She stopped short, For though they weren't going to take him out in the Kentish town road, They certainly intended to take him elsewhere, But not at all where the Cook meant when she said out. This confused the truthful Anthea. Out, Said the Cook, That I'll take care you don't, And she snatched the lamb from the lap of Jane, While Anthea and Robert caught her by the skirts and apron. Look here, Said Cyril, In stern desperation, Will you go away and make your pudding in a pie dish or a flower pot or a hot water can or something? Not me, Said the Cook, Briefly, And leave this precious poppet for you to give his death a cold to. I warn you, Said Cyril solemnly, Beware, Ere yet it be too late. Lay it yourself, The little popsy-wopsy, Said the Cook, With angry tenderness. They shan't take it out, No more they shan't, And where did you get that there yellow fowl, She pointed to the phoenix. Even Anthea saw that unless the Cook lost her situation, The loss would be theirs. I wish, She said suddenly, We were on a sunny southern shore where there can't be any whooping cough. She said it through the frightened howls of the lamb and the sturdy scoldings of the Cook, And instantly the giddy-go-round-and-falling-lift feeling swept over the whole party and the Cook sat down flat on the carpet, Holding the screaming lamb tight to her stout, Print-covered self, And calling on Saint Bridget to help her. She was an Irish woman. The moment the tipsy-topsy-turvy feeling stopped, The Cook opened her eyes, Gave one resounding screech, And shut them again, And Anthea took the opportunity to get the desperately howling lamb into her own arms. It's all right, She said, Own panthers got you. Look at the trees and the sand and the shells and the great big tortoises. Oh dear, How hot it is! It certainly was, For the trusty carpet had laid itself out on a southern shore that was sunny and no mistake, As Robert remarked. The greenest of green slopes led up to glorious groves where palm trees and all the tropical flowers and fruits that you read of in Westward Ho and Fair Play were growing in rich profusion. Between the green green slope and the blue blue sea lay a stretch of sand that looked like a carpet of jewelled cloth of gold, For it was not greyish as our northern sand is, But yellow and changing, Opal-coloured like sunshine and rainbows. And at the very moment when the wild, Whirling, Blinding, Deafening, Tumbling, Upside-downness of the carpet moving stopped, The children had the happiness of seeing three large live turtles waddle down to the edge of the sea and disappear into the water. And it was hotter than you can possibly imagine, Unless you think of ovens on a baking day. Everyone, Without an instant's hesitation, Tore off its London in November outdoor clothes, And Anthea took off the lamb's high-wim and blue coat and his three-cornered hat and then his jersey, And then the lamb himself suddenly slipped out of his little blue tight breeches and stood up happy and hot in his little white shirt. I'm sure it's much warmer than the seaside in the summer, Said Anthea. Mother always lets us go barefoot then. So the lamb's shoes and socks and garters came off, And he stood digging his happy naked pink toes into the golden smooth sand. I'm a little white ducky dicky, Said he, A little white ducky dicky what swims, And he splashed quacking into a sandy pool. Let him, Said Anthea, It can't hurt him. Oh how hot it is. The cook suddenly opened her eyes and screamed, Shut them, Screamed again, Opened her eyes once more and said, Why drat my cat's alive, What's all this? It's a dream I expect. Well it's the best I ever dreamed. I'll look it up in the dream book tomorrow. Seaside and trees and a carpet to sit on. I never did. Look here, Said Cyril, It isn't a dream, It's real. Oh yes, Says the cook, They always says that in dreams. It's real I tell you, Robert said stamping his foot. I'm not going to tell you how it's done because that's our secret. He winked heavily at each of the others in turn, But you wouldn't go away and make that pudding, So we had to bring you and I hope you like it. I do that and no mistake, Said the cook unexpectedly, And it being a dream it don't matter what I say and I will say, If it's my last word, That of all the aggravating little varmints. Calm yourself my good woman, Said the phoenix. Good woman indeed, Said the cook, Good woman yourself. Then she saw who it was who had spoken. Well I never, Said she, This is somewhat like a dream. Yellow fowls are talking and all. I've heard of such, But never did I think to see the day. Well then, Said Cyril impatiently, Sit here and see the day now. It's a jolly fine day. Here you others, A council. They walked along the shore till they were out of earshot of the who still sat gazing about her with a happy dreamy vacant smile. Look here, Said Cyril, We must roll the carpet up and hide it so that we can get at it at any moment. The lamb can be getting rid of his whooping cough all the morning and we can look about. Well anyway, Said Anthea, The safest thing is to leave the carpet there with her sitting on it. Perhaps it'll be a lesson to her and anyway if she think it's a dream it won't matter what she says when she gets home. So the extra coats and hats and mufflers were piled on the carpet. Cyril shouldered the well and happy lamb. The phoenix perched on Robert's wrist and the party of explorers prepared to enter the interior. The grassy slope was smooth but under the trees there were tangled creepers with bright strange shaped flowers and it wasn't easy to walk. We ought to have an explorer's axe, Said Robert. I shall ask father to give me one for Christmas. There were curtains of creepers with scented blossoms hanging from the trees and brilliant birds darted about quite close to their faces. Now tell me honestly, Said the phoenix, Are there any birds here handsomer than I am? Don't be afraid of hurting my feelings, I'm a modest bird I hope. Not one of them, Said Robert with conviction, Is a patch upon you. I was never a vain bird, Said the phoenix, But I own that you confirm my own impression. I will take a flight. It circled in the air for a moment and returning to Robert's wrist went on. There is a path to the left and there was. So now the children went on through the wood more quickly and comfortably, The girls picking flowers and the lamb inviting the pretty duckies to observe that he himself was a little white real water wet duck. And all this time he hadn't hooping coughed once. The path turned and twisted and always threading their way amid a tangle of flowers, The children suddenly passed a corner and found themselves in a forest clearing where there were a lot of pointed huts. The huts, As they knew at once, Of cannibals. The boldest heart beat more quickly. It was a long way back to the carpet. Hadn't we better go back, Said Jane. Go now, She said, And her voice trembled a little. Suppose they eat us. Nonsense, Pussy, Said Cyril firmly. Look, There's a goat tied up. That shows they don't eat people. Let's go on and say that we're missionaries, Robert suggested. I shouldn't advise that, Said the Phoenix very earnestly. Why not? Well, For one thing, It isn't true, Replied the golden bird. It was while they stood hesitating on the edge of the clearing that a tall man suddenly came out of one of the huts. He had hardly any clothes and his body all over was a dark and beautiful coppery colour, Just like the chrysanthemums father had brought home on Saturday. In his hand he held a spear. He looked at the children. Concealment was impossible. He uttered a shout and at once other people leapt out of every hut and swarmed about the clearing. There was no time for discussion and no one wanted to discuss anything anyhow. Whether these people were cannibals or not now seemed to matter very little. Without an instant's hesitation, The four children turned and ran back along the forest path. The only pause was Anthea's. She stood back to let Cyril pass because he was carrying the lamb who screamed with delight. He hadn't whooping coughed a single once since the carpet landed him on the island. Gee up squirrel, Gee gee, He shouted and Cyril did gee up. The path was a shorter cut to the beach than the creeper covered way by which they'd come and almost directly they saw through the trees the shining blue and gold and opal of sand and sea. Stick to it, Cried Cyril breathlessly. They did stick to it. They tore down the sands. They could hear behind them as they ran the patter of feet. The sands were golden and opal-coloured and bare. There were wreaths of tropic seaweed. There were rich tropic shells of the kind you would not buy in the Kentish town road under at least 15 pence a pair. There were turtles basking lumpily on the water's edge but no cook, No clothes and no carpet. On, On into the sea, Gasped Cyril. Their feet were splashing in the warm shallows before his breathless words were ended. The calm baby waves were easy to go through. It is warm work running for your life in the tropics and the coolness of the water was delicious. They were up to their armpits now and Jane was up to her chin. Look, Said the phoenix, What are they pointing at? The children turned and there a little to the west was a head, A head they knew with a crooked cap upon it. It was the head of the cook. For some reason or another the people had stopped at the water's edge and were all talking at the top of their voices and all were pointing their fingers, Stiff with interest and excitement, At the head of the cook. The children hurried towards her as quickly as the water would let them. What on earth did you come out here for, Robert shouted, And where on earth's the carpet? It's not on earth, Bless you, Replied the cook happily, It's under me in the water. I got a bit warm sitting there in the sun and I just says I wish I was in a cold bath, Just like that, And next minute here I was. It's all part of the dream. Everyone saw at once how extremely fortunate it was that the carpet had had the sense to take the cook to the nearest and largest bath, The sea, And how terrible it would have been if the carpet had taken itself and her to the stuffy little bathroom of the house in Camden Town. Excuse me, Said the phoenix's soft voice, Breaking in on the general's sigh of relief, But I think these people want your cook. To eat, Whispered Jane, As well as she could through the water which the plunging lamb was dashing in her face with happy fat hands and feet. Hardly, Rejoined the bird, Who wants cooks to eat? Cooks are engaged, Not eaten. They wish to engage her. How can you understand what they say, Asked Cyril doubtfully. It's as easy as kissing your claw, Replied the bird. I speak and understand all languages, Even that of your cook, Which is difficult and unpleasing. It's quite easy when you know how it's done. It just comes to you. I should advise you to beach the carpet and land the cargo, The cook I mean. You can take my word for it. The people will not harm you now. It is impossible not to take the word of a phoenix when it tells you to. So the children at once got hold of the corners of the carpet, And pulling it from under the cook, Towed it slowly in through the shallowing water, And at last spread it on the sand. The cook, Who had followed, Instantly sat down on it, And at once the natives, Now strangely humble, Formed a ring round the carpet, And fell on their faces on the rainbow and gold sand. The tallest man spoke in this position, Which must have been very awkward for him, And Jane noticed that it took him quite a long time to get the sand out of his mouth afterwards. He says, The phoenix remarked after some time, That they wish to engage your cook permanently. Without a character reference, Asked Anthea, Who had heard her mother speak of such things. They do not wish to engage her as a cook, But as a queen, And queens need not have character references. There was a breathless pause. Well, Said Cyril, Of all the choices, But there's no accounting for tastes. Everyone laughed at the idea of the cooks being engaged as a queen. They couldn't help it. I do not advise laughter, Warned the phoenix, Ruffling out his golden feathers, Which were extremely wet, And it's not their own choice. It seems that there is an ancient prophecy of this tribe, That a great queen should someday arise out of the sea, With a white crown on her head, And, And, Well, You see, There's the crown. It pointed its claw at Cook's cap, And a very dirty cap it was, Because it was the end of the week. That's the white crown, It said, At least it's nearly white, Very white indeed, And anyway, It's quite white enough. Cyril addressed the cook. Look here, He said, These people want you to be their queen. Now, Would you really like to stay? Or, If you'll promise not to be so jolly aggravating at home, And not to tell anyone a word about today, We'll take you back to Camden Town. No, You don't, Said the cook, In firm, Undoubting tones. I've always wanted to be the queen, God bless her, And I always thought, What a good one I should make, And now I'm going to. If it's only in a dream, It's well worthwhile, And I don't go back to that nasty underground kitchen, And me blamed for everything, That I don't, Not till the dream's finished, And I wake up with that nasty bell, A rang-tanging in me ears. So, I tell you, Are you sure, Aunt Thea asked the phoenix, That she will be quite safe here? She will find the nest of a queen a very precious and soft thing, Said the bird solemnly. There, You hear, Said Cyril, You're in for a precious soft thing, So mind you're a good queen, Cook, It's more than you'd any right to expect, But long may you reign. Some of the cook's subjects now advanced from the forest with long garlands of beautiful flowers, White and sweet-scented, And hung them respectfully around the neck of their new sovereign. What, All them lovely bouquets for me, Exclaimed the enraptured cook. Well, This here is something like a dream, I must say. She sat up very straight on the carpet, And the people themselves wreathed in garlands of the gayest flowers, Madly stuck parrot feathers in their hair and began to dance. It was a dance such as you have never seen. It made the children feel almost sure that the cook was right, And that they were all in a dream, And the dance got faster and faster, Till at last all the dancers fell on the sand, Tired out. The new queen, With her white crown cap all on one side, Clapped wildly. Bravo, She cried, Bravo. It's better than the Albert Edward musical in the Kentish Town Road. Go it again. But the phoenix would not translate this request, And when the people had recovered their breath, They implored their queen to leave her white escort and come with them to their huts. The finest shall be yours, Oh queen, Said they. Well, So long, Said the cook, Getting heavily onto her feet, When the phoenix had translated this request. No more kitchens and attics for me, Thank you. I'm off to my royal palace, I am, And I only wish this here dream would keep on forever and ever. She picked up the ends of the garlands that trailed round her feet, And the children had one last glimpse of her striped stockings and worn elastic side boots, Before she disappeared into the shadow of the forest, Surrounded by her people, Singing songs of rejoicing as they went. Well, Said Cyril, I suppose she's all right, But they don't seem to count us for much, One way or the other. Oh, Said the phoenix, They think you're merely dreams. The prophecy said that the queen would arise from the waves with a white crown and surrounded by white dream children. That's about what they think you are. And what about dinner, Said Robert, Abruptly. There won't be any dinner with no cook and no pudding basin, Anthea reminded him, But there's always bread and butter. Let's get home, Said Cyril. The lamb was furiously unwishful to be dressed in his warm clothes again, But Anthea and Jane managed it by force, Disguised as coaxing, And he never once whooping coughed. Then everyone put on its own warm things and took its place on the carpet. A sound of singing still came from beyond the trees, Where the natives were crooning songs of admiration and respect to their white crowned queen. Then Anthea said, Home, Just as duchesses and other people do to their coachmen, And the intelligent carpet in one whirling moment laid itself down in its proper place on the nursery floor. And at that very moment, Eliza opened the door and said, Cook's gone, I can't find her anywhere and there's no dinner ready. She hasn't taken her box nor yet her outdoor things. She just ran out to see the time, I shouldn't wonder. The kitchen clock never did give her satisfaction and she's got run over or fell down in a fit as likely as not. You'll have to put up with cold bacon for your dinners and what on earth you've got your outdoor things on for, I don't know. And then I'll slip out and see if they know anything about her down at the police station. But nobody ever knew anything about the cook anymore, Except the children and later one other person. Mother was so upset at losing the cook and so anxious about her that Anthea felt most miserable, As though she had done something very wrong indeed. She woke several times in the night and at last decided she would ask the phoenix to let her tell her mother all about it. But there was no opportunity to do this the next day because the phoenix, As usual, Had gone to sleep in some out-of-the-way spot after asking as a special favour not to be disturbed for 24 hours. The lamb never whooping coughed once all that Sunday and mother and father said what good medicine it was that the doctor had given him. But the children knew that it was the southern shore where you can't have whooping cough. The lamb babbled of coloured sand and water but no one took any notice of that. He often talked of things that hadn't happened. It was on Monday morning, Very early indeed, That Anthea woke and suddenly made up her mind. She crept downstairs in her nightgown, It was very chilly, Sat down on the carpet and with a beating heart wished herself on the sunny shore where you can't have whooping cough and next moment there she was. The sand was splendidly warm, She could feel it at once even through the carpet. She folded the carpet and put it over her shoulders like a shawl for she was determined not to be parted from it for a single instant no matter how hot it might be to wear. Then trembling a little and trying to keep up her courage by saying over and over, It is my duty, It is my duty, She went up the forest path. Well here you are again, Said the cook. Directly she saw Anthea. This dream does keep on. The cook was dressed in a white robe, She had no shoes and stockings and no cap and she was sitting under a screen of palm leaves for it was afternoon in the island and blazing hot. She wore a flower wreath on her hair and boys were fanning her with peacock's feathers. They've got the cat put away, She said. They seem to think a lot of it, Never saw one before I expect. Are you happy? Asked Anthea, Panting. The sight of the cook as queen quite took her breath away. I believe you my dear, Said the cook heartily. Nothing to do unless you want to but I'm getting rested now. Tomorrow I'm going to start cleaning out my hut if the dream keeps on and I shall teach them cooking. It burns everything to a cinder now unless they eats it raw. But can you talk to them? Law of a duck yes, The happy cook queen replied. It's quite easy to pick up. I always thought I should be quick at foreign languages. I've taught them to understand dinner and I want to drink and you leave me be already. Then you don't want for anything, Anthea asked earnestly. Not me miss, Except if you'd only go away. I'm afraid of me waking up with that bella going if you keep on stopping here and talking to me. Long as this here dream keeps up I'm as happy as a queen. Goodbye then, Said Anthea gaily, For her conscience was clear now. She hurried into the wood, Threw herself on the ground and said home and there she was, Rolled in the carpet on the nursery floor. She's all right anyhow, Said Anthea and went back to bed. I'm glad somebody's pleased but mother will never believe me when I tell her. The story is indeed a little difficult to believe. Still you might try to be continued.

Reviews

Even the second time around… this story is fabulous and Mandy, your narration brings it blissfully alive wirh your beautiful voice. Lucky Quuen Cook!!!

Thank you Mandy! The cool’s accent is fabulous!💖🕊️

Awww, this one took me 3 times to listen to the end. Your voice is so soothing, I just fall asleep, I finally had to listen to it during the day, so I could finish it! Thank you Mandy!

Awesome! Happy cook, happy children!😻 thank you ❤️❤️