l-behaved darn should be.

Then every one put on its outdoor things, the Phoenix fluttered on to
the mantelpiece and arranged its golden feathers in the glass, and all
was ready. Every one got on to the carpet.

'Please go slowly, dear carpet,' Anthea began; we like to see where
we're going.' And then she added the difficult wish that had been
decided on.

Next moment the carpet, stiff and raftlike, was sailing over the roofs
of Kentish Town.

'I wish--No, I don't mean that. I mean it's a PITY we aren't higher up,'
said Anthea, as the edge of the carpet grazed a chimney-pot.

'That's right. Be careful,' said the Phoenix, in warning tones. 'If you
wish when you're on a wishing carpet, you DO wish, and there's an end of
it.'

So for a short time no one spoke, and the carpet sailed on in calm
magnificence over St Pancras and King's Cross stations and over the
crowded streets of Clerkenwell.

'We're going out Greenwich way,' said Cyril, as they crossed the streak
of rough, tumbled water that was the Thames. 'We might go and have a
look at the Palace.'

On and on the carpet swept, still keeping much nearer to the
chimney-pots than the children found at all comfortable. And then, just
over New Cross, a terrible thing happened.

Jane and Robert were in the middle of the carpet. Part of them was
on the carpet, and part of them--the heaviest part--was on the great
central darn.

'It's all very misty,' said Jane; 'it looks partly like out of doors
and partly like in the nursery at home. I feel as if I was going to have
measles; everything looked awfully rum then, remember.'

'I feel just exactly the same,' Robert said.

'It's the hole,' said the Phoenix; 'it's not measles whatever that
possession may be.'

And at that both Robert and Jane suddenly, and at once, made a bound to
try and get on to the safer part of the carpet, and the darn gave way
and their boots went up, and the heavy heads and bodies of them went
down through the hole, and they landed in a position something between
sitting and sprawling on the flat leads on the top of a high, grey,
gloomy, respectable house whose address was 705, Amersham Road, New
Cross.

The carpet seemed to awaken to new energy as soon as it had got rid of
their weight, and it rose high in the air. The others lay down flat and
peeped over the edge of the rising carpet.

'Are you hurt?' cried Cyril, and Robert shouted 'No,' and next moment
the carpet had sped away, and Jan