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they were alone, Philip said—and it was not easy to say it:

      “That was jolly clever of you, Lucy. I should never have thought of it.”

      “Oh, that’s nothing,” said Lucy, looking down. “I could do more than that.”

      “What?” he asked.

      “I could unravel the carpet,” said Lucy, with deep solemnity.

      “But it’s me that’s got to do it,” Philip urged.

      “Every citizen is bound to help, if called in,” Lucy reminded him. “And I suppose a princess is a citizen.”

      “Perhaps I can do it by myself,” said Philip.

      “Try,” said Lucy, and sat down on the steps, her fairy skirts spreading out round her like a white double hollyhock.

      He tried. He went back and looked at the great coarse cables of the carpet. He could see no end to the cables, no beginning to his task. And Lucy just went on sitting there like a white hollyhock. And time went on, and presently became, rather urgently, dinner-time.

      So he went back to Lucy and said:

      “All right, you can show me how to do it, if you like.”

      But Lucy replied:

      “Not much! If you want me to help you with this, you’ll have to promise to let me help in all the other things. And you’ll have to ask me to help—ask me politely too.”

      “I shan’t then,” said Philip. But in the end he had to—politely also.

      “With pleasure,” said Lucy, the moment he asked her, and he could see she had been making up what she should answer, while he was making up his mind to ask. “I shall be delighted to help you in this and all the other tasks. Say yes.”

      “Yes,” said Philip, who was very hungry.

      “‘In this and all the other tasks’ say.”

      “In this and all the other tasks,” he said. “Go on. How can we do it?”

      “It’s crochet,” Lucy giggled. “It’s a little crochet mat I’d made of red wool; and I put it in the hall that night. You’ve just got to find the end and pull, and it all comes undone. You just want to find the end and pull.”

      “It’s too heavy for us to pull.”

      “Well,” said Lucy, who had certainly had time to think everything out, “you get one of those twisty round things they pull boats out of the sea with, and I’ll find the end while you’re getting it.”

      She ran up the steps and Philip looked round the buildings on the other three sides of the square, to see if any one of them looked like a capstan shop, for he understood, as of course you also have done, that a capstan was what Lucy meant.

      On a building almost opposite he read, “Naval Necessaries Supply Company,” and he ran across to it.

      “Rather,” said the secretary of the company, a plump sailor-doll, when Philip had explained his needs. “I’ll send a dozen men over at once. Only too proud to help, Sir Philip. The navy is always keen on helping valour and beauty.”

      “I want to be brave,” said Philip, “but I’d rather not be beautiful.”

      “Of course not,” said the secretary; and added surprisingly, “I meant the Lady Lucy.”

      “Oh!” said Philip.

      So twelve bluejackets and a capstan outside the Hall of Public Amusements were soon the centre of a cheering crowd. Lucy had found the end of the rope, and two sailors dragged it out and attached it to the capstan, and then—round and round with a will and a breathless chanty—the carpet was swiftly unravelled. Dozens of eager helpers stood on the parts of the carpet which were not being unravelled, to keep it steady while the pulling went on.

      The news of Philip’s success spread like wild-fire through the city, and the crowds gathered thicker and thicker. The great doors beyond the pillars with the birds on them were thrown open, and Mr. Noah and the principal citizens stood there to see the end of the unravelling.

      “Bravo!” said every one in tremendous enthusiasm. “Bravo! Sir Philip.”

      “It wasn’t me,” said Philip difficultly, when the crowd paused for breath; “it was Lucy thought of it.”

      “Bravo! Bravo!” shouted the crowd louder than ever. “Bravo, for the Lady Lucy! Bravo for Sir Philip, the modest truth-teller!”

      “Bravo, my dear,” said Mr. Noah, waving his hat and thumping Lucy on the back.

      “I’m awfully glad I thought of it,” she said; “that makes two deeds Sir Philip’s done, doesn’t it? Two out of the seven.”

      “Yes, indeed,” said Mr. Noah enthusiastically. “I must make him a baronet now. His title will grow grander with each deed. There’s an old prophecy that the person who finds out how to unravel the carpet must be the first to dance in the Hall of Public Amusements.

      “The clever one, the noble one,

      Who makes the carpet come undone,

      Shall be the first to dance a measure

      Within the Hall of public pleasure.

      I suppose public amusement was too difficult a rhyme even for these highly-skilled poets, our astrologers. You, my child, seem to have been well inspired in your choice of a costume. Dance, then, my Lady Lucy, and let the prophecy be fulfilled.”

      So, all down the wide clear floor of the Hall of Public Amusement, Lucy danced. And the people of the city looked on and applauded, Philip with the rest.

      CHAPTER VI

      THE LIONS IN THE DESERT

      “But why?” asked Philip at dinner, which was no painted wonder of wooden make-believe, but real roast guinea-fowl and angel pudding, “Why do you only have wooden things to eat at your banquets?”

      “Banquets are extremely important occasions,” said Mr. Noah, “and real food—food that you can eat and enjoy—only serves to distract the mind from the serious affairs of life. Many of the most successful caterers in your world have grasped this great truth.”

      “But why,” Lucy asked, “do you have the big silver bowls with nothing in them?”

      Mr. Noah sighed. “The bowls are for dessert,” he said.

      “But there isn’t any dessert in them,” Lucy objected.

      “No,” said Mr. Noah, sighing again, “that’s just it. There is no dessert. There has never been any dessert. Will you have a little more angel pudding?”

      It was quite plain to Lucy and Philip that Mr. Noah wished to change the subject, which, for some reason, was a sad one, and with true politeness they both said “Yes, please,” to the angel pudding offer, though they had already had quite as much as they really needed.

      After dinner Mr. Noah took them for a walk through the town, “to see the factories,” he said. This surprised Philip, who had been taught not to build factories with his bricks because factories were so ugly, but the factories turned out to be pleasant, long, low houses, with tall French windows opening into gardens of roses, where people of all nations made beautiful and useful things, and loved making them. And all the people who were making them looked clean and happy.

      “I wish we had factories like those,” Philip said. “Our factories are so ugly. Helen says so.”

      “That’s because all your factories are money factories,” said Mr. Noah, “though they’re called by all sorts of different names. Every one here has to make something that isn’t just money or for money—something useful and beautiful.”

      “Even you?” said Lucy.

      “Even

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