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Authors: Enid Blyton
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and you can take it down to your playroom.”
“Oh, well—that sounds good,” said Peter, cheering up. “We'll just pop upstairs with our things, Mrs. Willy—and then what about your honey in the comb and chocolate buns? We're starving! We simply never get enough to eat at school, you know!”
“Rubbish!” said Mrs. Williams. “You're both as plump as can be!”
The two children went up the stairs two at a time. They stood at a landing window, looking down to the bottom of the garden. They could quite well see the roof of their playroom there. They looked at each other in excitement.
“I hope Chinky is there,” said Mollie. “Because if he is, and has got the Wishing-Chair with him, we shall be able to fly off on an adventure or two without bothering about anyone! It's always difficult to slip off in it when Mother and Daddy are at home—and we just have to keep the chair a secret. It would be too dreadful if it was put into a museum, and taken right away from us. It must be very, very valuable.”
“Yes. We're really very lucky to have a wishing-chair of our own,” said Peter. “It's a long time since we got it now. Come on—let's put our things in our bedrooms, and then ask Mrs. Willy to let us take our tea down to the playroom. Perhaps Chinky is there.”
“He may be waiting outside,” said Mollie. “He can't get in because the door is locked. I shall love to see his dear little pixie face again. We're lucky to have a pixie for a friend!”
Mrs. Willy was quite pleased to let them have a tray of goodies to take down to the playroom with them. She piled it with buns and new bread and butter, and a slab of honey in the comb, biscuits, and ice-cream out of the fridge. It did look good!
“I'll take some ginger-beer down under my arm,” said Peter. “I can manage the tray, too, if you'll bring the biscuits and ice-cream—they look as if they might slip about!”
“I'll get the key of the playroom, too,” said Mollie, and she took it off its hook. Then, feeling excited, the two of them went carefully down the garden path, carrying everything between them. Would Chinky be waiting for them?
He was, of course, because the robin had flown down to tell him that the children were coming. He hid behind some tall hollyhocks, and leapt out on them as they came up to the door of the playroom.
“Mollie! Peter! I'm here!”
“Chinky! We are glad to see you!” said Mollie. “Wait till I put down all this stuff and I'll give you a hug! There!”
She gave the little pixie such a hug that he almost choked. He beamed all over his face. “Where's the key?” he said. “I'll open the door. I want to get the wishing-chair inside before anyone sees it. There's a tiresome little brownie who keeps on wanting to sit in it.”
He unlocked the door of the playroom and they all went in. Chinky helped them with the food, and then ran to get the wishing-chair. He staggered in with it, beaming.
“I tipped that tiresome brownie off the seat, and he fell into some nettles,” said Chinky. “He shouted like anything. Well, does the chair look just the same as ever?”
“Oh, TO!” said Mollie, in delight, looking at the polished wooden chair. “Your mother does keep it well polished, Chinky. Did it grow its wings and fly off at all, while we were away at school this term?”
“It grew its wings once,” said Chinky, “but as I was in bed with a cold I couldn't fly off anywhere exciting in it—so I tied it to one of the legs of my bed, in case it tried to do anything silly, like flying out of the window.”
Mollie giggled. “And did it try?” she asked.
“Oh, yes—it woke me up in the middle of the night, flapping its wings and tugging at my bed,” said Chinky with a grin. “But it couldn't get away, and in the morning its wings had gone again. So that was all right.”
“I do so hope it will grow its wings this weekend,” said Peter. “We've only got a few days' holiday, then we go back to school
“Oh, well—that sounds good,” said Peter, cheering up. “We'll just pop upstairs with our things, Mrs. Willy—and then what about your honey in the comb and chocolate buns? We're starving! We simply never get enough to eat at school, you know!”
“Rubbish!” said Mrs. Williams. “You're both as plump as can be!”
The two children went up the stairs two at a time. They stood at a landing window, looking down to the bottom of the garden. They could quite well see the roof of their playroom there. They looked at each other in excitement.
“I hope Chinky is there,” said Mollie. “Because if he is, and has got the Wishing-Chair with him, we shall be able to fly off on an adventure or two without bothering about anyone! It's always difficult to slip off in it when Mother and Daddy are at home—and we just have to keep the chair a secret. It would be too dreadful if it was put into a museum, and taken right away from us. It must be very, very valuable.”
“Yes. We're really very lucky to have a wishing-chair of our own,” said Peter. “It's a long time since we got it now. Come on—let's put our things in our bedrooms, and then ask Mrs. Willy to let us take our tea down to the playroom. Perhaps Chinky is there.”
“He may be waiting outside,” said Mollie. “He can't get in because the door is locked. I shall love to see his dear little pixie face again. We're lucky to have a pixie for a friend!”
Mrs. Willy was quite pleased to let them have a tray of goodies to take down to the playroom with them. She piled it with buns and new bread and butter, and a slab of honey in the comb, biscuits, and ice-cream out of the fridge. It did look good!
“I'll take some ginger-beer down under my arm,” said Peter. “I can manage the tray, too, if you'll bring the biscuits and ice-cream—they look as if they might slip about!”
“I'll get the key of the playroom, too,” said Mollie, and she took it off its hook. Then, feeling excited, the two of them went carefully down the garden path, carrying everything between them. Would Chinky be waiting for them?
He was, of course, because the robin had flown down to tell him that the children were coming. He hid behind some tall hollyhocks, and leapt out on them as they came up to the door of the playroom.
“Mollie! Peter! I'm here!”
“Chinky! We are glad to see you!” said Mollie. “Wait till I put down all this stuff and I'll give you a hug! There!”
She gave the little pixie such a hug that he almost choked. He beamed all over his face. “Where's the key?” he said. “I'll open the door. I want to get the wishing-chair inside before anyone sees it. There's a tiresome little brownie who keeps on wanting to sit in it.”
He unlocked the door of the playroom and they all went in. Chinky helped them with the food, and then ran to get the wishing-chair. He staggered in with it, beaming.
“I tipped that tiresome brownie off the seat, and he fell into some nettles,” said Chinky. “He shouted like anything. Well, does the chair look just the same as ever?”
“Oh, TO!” said Mollie, in delight, looking at the polished wooden chair. “Your mother does keep it well polished, Chinky. Did it grow its wings and fly off at all, while we were away at school this term?”
“It grew its wings once,” said Chinky, “but as I was in bed with a cold I couldn't fly off anywhere exciting in it—so I tied it to one of the legs of my bed, in case it tried to do anything silly, like flying out of the window.”
Mollie giggled. “And did it try?” she asked.
“Oh, yes—it woke me up in the middle of the night, flapping its wings and tugging at my bed,” said Chinky with a grin. “But it couldn't get away, and in the morning its wings had gone again. So that was all right.”
“I do so hope it will grow its wings this weekend,” said Peter. “We've only got a few days' holiday, then we go back to school
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