world. It was Lucy's nurse, the nurse
with the grey dress and the big fat feet, who had been so cross to him
and had pulled down his city.

'How on earth,' Philip wondered to himself, 'did she get _here_? And how
on earth shall I get away from her?' He had not seen the spears and the
quicksands and the molten metal, and he was waiting unhappily for her to
alight, and for a game of hide and seek to begin, which he was not at
all anxious to play.

Even as he wondered, the Hippogriff spread wings and flew away. And
Philip was left alone on the island. But what did that matter? It was
much better to be alone than with that Pretenderette. And for Philip
there were no white-hot metal and spears and snares of quicksand, only
dewy grass and sweet flowers and trees and safety and delight.

'If only Lucy were here,' he said.

When he was quite sure that the Pretenderette was really gone, he came
out and explored the island. It had on it every kind of flower and fruit
that you can think of, all growing together. There were gold oranges and
white orange flowers, pink apple-blossom and red apples, cherries and
cherry-blossom, strawberry flowers and strawberries, all growing
together, wild and sweet.

At the back of his mind Philip remembered that he had, at some time or
other, heard of an island where fruit and blossoms grew together at the
same time, but that was all he could remember. He passed through the
lovely orchards and came to a lake. It was frozen. And he remembered
that, in the island he had heard of, there was a lake ready for skating
even when the flowers and fruit were on the trees. Then he came to a
little summer-house built all of porcupine quills like Helen's pen-box.

And then he knew. All these wonders were on the island that he and Helen
had invented long ago--the island that she used to draw maps of.

'It's our very own island,' he said, and a glorious feeling of being at
home glowed through him, warm and delightful. 'We said no one else might
come here! That's why the Pretenderette couldn't land. And why they call
it the Island-where-you-mayn't-go. I'll find the bun tree and have
something to eat, and then I'll go to the boat-house and get out the
_Lightning Loose_ and go back for Lucy. I do wish I could bring her
here. But of course I can't without asking Helen.'

The _Lightning Loose_ was the magic yacht Helen had invented for the
island.

He soon found a bush whose fruit was buns, and a jam-tart t