us each one
and keeping one for himself.

"Now," said he, "each of you write on the piece of paper the name of
something you would wish for luncheon."

He handed me the pencil first, and just for fun I wrote "Lobster salad."

Marjorie wrote "Game pie."

Dick thought that "Pies and tarts and plenty of them" was a suitable
thing to ask for.

Lionel could imagine nothing more to be desired than "Ham and tongue
sandwiches."

Lady Betty wanted "Fruit and nuts," and Fidge, after various painful
attempts, wrote "Something nice to drink."

Shin Shira read them out one by one.

"Yes," he said, "they're all very well, but how are you going to eat
them when you have got them? Now you see what I wish for," and he
carefully wrote on his slip of paper, "Tablecloth, serviettes, plates,
dishes, knives, forks, spoons, salt, pepper, mustard, oil, vinegar,
glasses and a corkscrew." "There!" he exclaimed, "I think that will put
us right. Now watch carefully. You see there is no deception!" and he
laughingly rolled up his sleeves like a professional conjurer.

He placed the paper upon which he had written his list into his turban,
shaking it violently.

To our surprise, in a few seconds it sounded as though there was
something in it, and an instant later he drew forth from it a neatly
folded snow-white tablecloth, the serviettes, spoons, forks, and in fact
all the articles which he had named.

He set the children to work laying the cloth, while he placed the other
lists in his turban, and in turn, beginning with a deliciously
fresh-looking lobster salad, and a large game pie, he brought forth
every one of the good things which had been wished for.

Fidge's "something nice to drink" turned out to be bottles of lemonade,
milk, soda water, and a bottle of wine for the grown-ups.

A more delicious feast it would be impossible to imagine.

We were just sitting down to enjoy it, and I had stuck the knife and
fork into the game pie, when Marjorie sprang up with a little scream,
brushing something from her face.

"Ough! a horrid caterpillar!" she cried.

"And here's another!" declared Fidge, knocking one from his coat.

"And an earwig!" exclaimed Dick, picking one up from the cloth.

"Oh! and spiders!" screamed Lady Betty, jumping up and shaking her
frock.

"Dear! dear! this will never do!" I said, for the place was swarming
with insects, owing to the very dry summer which we had had.

"There ought to be a marquee like we