She had made her way half down the staircase, when she suddenly
remembered her basket.

"Oh, my bastwick," she exclaimed. "I was nearly forgetting my bastwick,"
and up-stairs again she climbed to the cupboard, in one dark corner of
which she had hidden it. Luckily it was still there; no one had touched
it; so feeling herself quite equipped for the journey, Hoodie walked out
of the front door, crossed the gravel drive, and made her way down a
little path with a rustic gate at the end leading straight out on to the
high road. When she got there she stood still and looked about her.
Which way should she go? It had turned out a beautiful afternoon, though
the morning had been so stormy. The road was nearly dry already, the sky
overhead was blue, save here and there where little feathery clouds were
flying about in some agitation; it might rain again before night, for
though not exactly cold, there was no summer glow as yet, and the
sunshine, though bright, had a very April feeling about it.

Hoodie stood still and looked about her, up and down the road. It was a
pretty, peaceful scene--the broad well-kept highway, bordered at one
side with beautiful old trees just bursting into bloom, and across, on
the other side of the low hedge, the fresh green fields, all the fresher
for the morning's rain, in some of which already the tender little
lambkins were sporting about or cuddling in by the side of their warm
woolly ewe-mothers.

"I wish I was a lamb," thought Hoodie, as her glance fell on them. Then
as she looked away beyond the fields to where in the distance the land
sloped upwards into softly rising hills, a flight of birds attracted her
attention. How prettily they flew, waving, now upwards, now downwards,
like one long ribbon against the sky. "Or a little bird," she added. "If
I was up there I could see so nicely where to go, and I could fly, fly,
till I got to the sun."

But just then the sound of wheels coming near brought her thoughts down
to earth again. Which way should she go?

She _must_ pass through a wood. That was the only thing that at present
she felt sure of, and there was a wood she remembered some way down the
road, past Mr. Bright's farm. So down the road Hoodie trotted, her
basket firmly clasped in her hand, her little figure the only moving
thing to be seen along the queen's highway. For the cart to which the
wheels belonged had passed quickly--it was only the grocer from the
neighbouring town, s