_Make-Believing_
The children rubbed their eyes. What was a bizzybuzz? And Make Believe
Land! Mother Goose! Were they dreaming? No, they knew they could not be
dreaming, for they would never dream such nonsense as this!
Meanwhile the sprite stood on the hearth-rug, his slender wings still
whirring faintly, and his goggle eyes quite anxious.
“Oh, dear!” he exclaimed at last. “You really are slow about starting,
you know! Or”—hopefully—“have you been getting ready,—packing up and
all that?”
This was too much for Meg’s practical soul. Besides, she was glad to
have a chance to vent her ruffled and bewildered feelings.
“What nonsense!” she said sharply. “You know we haven’t moved! How
could we have been packing up?”
“Why,” exclaimed Bizzybuzz, looking greatly surprised, “do you really
have to _do_ things here? In Make Believe Land we have only to
_imagine_ we are doing them.”
“Rot!” blurted Dick, like an explosion.
“‘Rot’!” repeated Bizzybuzz, innocently. “What is that?” And Dick felt
rather ashamed of himself.
“But how do you make believe things?” asked Bab, the curious.
Bizzybuzz looked at her in as pitying a way as he could manage,
considering the queerness of his eyes. “Don’t you know how to make
believe?” he asked earnestly. “And you a little girl!”
He almost cried about it.
The children looked at each other. For the first time they were just a
wee bit discontented with their sensible views. How did it feel, they
wondered, to make believe?
“Now,” said Bizzybuzz, “just suppose that you want to pack up something
to carry away with you on your journey. What would you each like to
have most?”
“My new jack-knife,” answered Dick.
“My pink silk dress,” declared Meg.
“Wiggles,” said Bab.
“What is Wiggles?” asked Bizzybuzz.
“My fox-terrier,” she explained enthusiastically. “I wish he were here
now for you to see. He’s the dearest—”
“Oh, it wouldn’t do at all!” cried Bizzybuzz, hastily. “For if you had
him here, how would you make believe that you had him?”
This seemed unanswerable.
“Now,” went on Bizzybuzz, in a business-like way, “you must each
pretend that you are carrying what you most want. You”—to Meg—“have a
pink dress hanging on your arm. Oh, what a pretty pink dress! It has
ribbons and lace and ruffles! It must be very becoming.”
Instinctively Meg crooked her arm and looked at it.
“Such a lovely dress!” proceeded Bizzybuzz.
“I don’t see it,” said Meg, at last.
“Oh, dear!” sighed Bizzybuzz. “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” said Meg, “I’m quite sure. I don’t see it at all. Do you?”
“Of course I do!” said Bizzybuzz. “Never mind, you’ll see it yourself
in time.” Then he turned to Dick. “Do you mind letting me see your
jack-knife?” he said. “Thanks!” He pretended to take something in
his hand. “What a fine one! May I open it? One—two—three blades! It
certainly is a fine jack-knife. Here, take it back again.” He seemed
to hand the imaginary knife back to Dick. “Do you see it?” he demanded
anxiously.
“N-no,” said Dick, doubtfully. “I don’t think I do. But I’m not quite
sure. I feel as though I might see it if you kept on making believe
long enough.”
“That’s much better!” exclaimed Bizzybuzz, looking pleased. “And now
for you,” he went on, turning to Bab. “You have Wiggles in your
arms; suppose you put him down. Oh, he doesn’t want to get down,
does he? He loves you very much! See if he’ll come to me. Here,
doggie,—doggie,—doggie!”
Bab stared hard at the spot where her beloved Wiggles was supposed to
be. For a moment she did really seem to see his fat white and brown
body wriggling ecstatically and trying to wag its stump of a tail.
“Oh!” she cried, “I almost saw him then—almost—yes, yes, _yes!_ I
_quite_ see him! Oh, Wiggles, dear!” And down she went on her knees.
“Don’t be so silly!” said Meg, crossly; and Wiggles disappeared.
“_You_’ll learn very quickly,” said Bizzybuzz, approvingly, “you,
little girl with the dog. But you’ll all learn in time. And now we must
be off.”
“Off!”
“Yes; Mother Goose will be growing impatient. Come, hurry up! And don’t
forget that you are bringing with you the jack-knife, and the pink
dress, and Wiggles!”
“Bringing things we can’t see!” said Meg, scornfully.
“Ah! But you _will_ see them,” said Bizzybuzz. “I can see them now,
though they’re not _my_ make-believes! And the moment that you have
learned to believe in all the make-believe things in Make Believe Land,
and love them as you should, you’ll find that you have with you the
knife and the dress and the dog! Now come!”
He spread his wings and flew to the window. Perching on the sill, he
beckoned to them.
“But what does your old Mother Goose want with us?” asked Bab,
hesitating.
“She’ll tell you herself,” said Bizzybuzz, and bowed low. “Bless her
Majesty’s heart!”
“Her Majesty!” repeated Meg.
“She is one of the many rulers of Make Believe Land,” said Bizzybuzz,
bowing again. “Come, come, come! You really must not delay any longer.”
He pointed through the open window into the dark outside.
“But you don’t expect _us_ to fly!” said Dick.
“I have something waiting for you to fly _on_!” said Bizzybuzz,
mysteriously.
“That isn’t right,” said Meg. “You should say ‘on which to fly.’ My
teacher told me so.”
Bizzybuzz looked at her disapprovingly. “You really are a disagreeable
child, aren’t you?” he remarked. “Never mind. There is your steed _on
which to fly_!”
He pointed again. The three children could not help hurrying to the
window to see what it was.
On the ledge outside was sitting a huge owl. His feathers ruffled out
and then subsided in the night wind, and his great eyes were like
moons. He looked tremendously wise.
“O-o-oh!” cried Bab, drawing back, “I’m afraid of owls!”
“Nonsense! Don’t be so silly!” said Bizzybuzz,—for it was his turn to
be scornful. “Come, climb on! Or no—I suppose you _think_ you are too
big! Well, shut your eyes!”
They obeyed, and suddenly felt themselves lifted quickly through the
air and deposited upon a nest of soft, warm feathers.
“All right; open your eyes,” said the voice of Bizzybuzz. “We’re off!”
Everything was quite dark when they opened their eyes, but looking up
they could see the stars and a driving shoal of faintly shining clouds.
Beneath them was a motion as soft and steady as the rocking of a great
cradle; they were riding on the owl!
Above them flew Bizzybuzz, and they noticed that he was quite
transparent against the least bit of light, and that they could see the
stars through him very clearly.
“Go to sleep if you like,” he told them, “for the journey is a long
one.” Then he added something the children did not understand at the
time: “I came to your country in less than a second, but it will take a
longer time to carry _you_ to Make Believe Land!”
The children were far too excited to sleep. They leaned over the owl’s
back to catch glimpses of the world underneath, and more than once they
nearly fell. It was a thrilling ride! Sometimes they flew low down,
through forests dense and fragrant and black; then up, up, into the
clouds and starlight; then straight on, over shining water, and cities
full of twinkling yellow lights,—on—on—on!
Often they passed other birds, even a bat or two, and strange,
shimmering insects of monstrous size, and big, soft, stupid, graceful
moths with wings of gray or green. The air seemed full of sounds,—the
whirr of wings, the call of one flying thing to another, the rustling
stir of the tree-tops, the low murmur of the wind, the laughing noise
of running water underneath. Never had their ears been so busy.
“Greeting, brother!” called Bizzybuzz to a big white owl that was
flapping along beside them. But the owl said never a word.
“He will not speak,” explained Bizzybuzz, flitting down to whisper,
“because he is known as the wisest of all owls, and he is afraid that
if he talks people will find out that he isn’t!”
“Has the white owl anyone on his back?” asked Bab.
“Look!” said Bizzybuzz, shooting up in the air once more. “He is still
travelling beside us. He, like ourselves, is flying in the Wind Channel
of Echoes. It is the best at this hour of the night.”
They stood up to look. The white owl wore a collar of glittering
silver, and on his back was sitting a wee old woman dressed all in
white.
“She is the Witch of Silence,” said Bizzybuzz. “She is very, very
wise. She lives in a hollow tree, and the white owl sits outside and
meditates. She is on her way now to the North Star, where there is a
very learned oracle who can teach her some new spells.”
“How will she get to the North Star?” asked Dick.
“She will ride along the Wind Channel of Echoes until she reaches the
North Star’s Ladder of Light, and then climb up, step by step. It will
take her a hundred years.”
“What in the world do you mean by Wind Channels and Ladders of Light?”
demanded Meg, crossly.
“You have roads on the ground in your country,” said Bizzybuzz. “_We_
have roads in the air. Isn’t that quite simple? We have the Wind
Channel of Echoes and the Tree-Top Pathway and the Road of Clouds for
times of storm; and the Moon-Wake when we want to cross the water and
are too tired to fly. Sometimes we lose our way and have a dreadful
time getting to shelter before daylight! As for the Ladder of Light,
every star has a ladder leading straight up to it if only you can
find it. The North Star is the hardest of all to reach, for it is so
very far and cold, and the people there will receive only witches
or air-spirits. They are very exclusive! The Witch of Silence will
be welcome. She and the oracle will sit opposite each other for two
hundred and seventy years, and then she will be truly wise, so she will
climb down the Ladder of Light and go into her hollow tree again.”
The white owl with the witch suddenly swerved off toward the right, and
flapped away into the mists.
“Now I wonder why he did that!” murmured Bizzybuzz, anxiously. “He must
have had a reason. They’ve gone toward the Road of Clouds. That’s it!”
he exclaimed; “there’s a storm coming up! That’s the reason! Hear the
thunder! Fly, Moon-Eyes, fly!” And he buzzed around their owl’s head
excitedly. “Fly as you never flew before, and give the signal for ‘Way
for the owl-carriers!’”
The owl gave a long, weird call, “Too-hoo-hoo-hoo-oo-oo!” that sounded
along the Wind Channel of Echoes in a thousand different tones. Other
cries answered it,—some near, some far; and the thunder growled louder
and louder.
“Everyone is going toward the Owls’ Inn,” cried Bizzybuzz. “Turn in
there, Moon-Eyes; the storm is going to be a sharp one!”
The owl swept to the left, and dropped suddenly to earth. Bizzybuzz
helped the children off, and they found themselves on a rocky ledge in
the side of a cliff. Just before them was a dark cave or hole in the
cliff, in the depths of which were glowing many owl-eyes.
“Hurry in!” ordered Bizzybuzz. And they all, including the owl, entered
the cave.
“This,” declared their Goblin friend, “is the hostelry which is known
to every flying thing of every land, and which has been here since
eight thousand years before the beginning of the world: it is the
famous Owls’ Inn.”
[Illustration]
III
_At the Owls’ Inn_
[Illustration]
[Illustration]