the summer sea,
Each little mast with a sail of pearl,
Each dipping boat holds a boy or girl,
A most enchanting argosy.
A ship one's longed for most perhaps
That cannot anyhow collapse.

We'll sail away to the golden strand,
And maybe discover No Man's Land;
Each one of us will get a peep
Into the wonders of the deep,
Dredging for shells of brilliant hue,
And discovering mermaids too.

Sing ho! for a galleon of Spanish gold,
With jewels and ivory in the hold.
What treasure we'll find upon the main!
What triumph when we sail home again!
The wonder of every lad and lass
Will be the booty we amass."

After a short but entrancing voyage, and even whilst Ridgwell and
Christine stood with the other children waist-deep in the great carven
hold of the sunken Spanish galleon, shovelling out golden doubloons and
precious jewels, the sound of Lal's voice came across the water to them.

"Autumn, ahoy!" shouted Lal.

* * * * *

"Isn't it bewildering, Chris?" lamented Ridgwell. "Only a second ago
we were enthroned in a castle of golden coins and precious stones, and
now, without any sort of warning whatever, we are standing upon the top
of a waggon-load of newly-mown hay."

"Yes, Ridgie, and look at Lal across there, laughing about it like
anything."

"He certainly does play tricks with us, Chris. See, he is sending all
the children racing across to draw our hay-cart with those ropes of
acorns and leaves they are holding. Hullo!" broke off Ridgwell,
"somebody is throwing things at me, and if they continue doing it I
shall jolly well start throwing back again."

Christine looked up from the stack of loose hay surrounding her in the
cart upon which they stood.

"Why, it's apples," announced Christine.

"Where?" inquired her brother.

"Look, Ridgie, overhead, hundreds of them hanging from every tree. We
can reach them quite easily."

There could be no doubt about the matter. Rosy apples ripened by the
sun dangled in clusters overhead, and gently fell down at the very
moment when any one felt disposed to eat them.

Within easy reach grew trailing brambles smothered with ripened patches
of fragrant blackberries.

The Pleasant-Faced Lion lifted up his voice and inquired if the company
present desired anything better, at the season they were now passing
through, than unlimited apples, blackberries, and hay.

"No," came a simultaneous chorus from