In the City of Birds there were several large green gardens set aside
for children. These gardens were the finest places in the world in which
to play hide-and-seek, because of the summer-houses and grottoes and
winding paths; also there were ponds to sail boats on, and trees to
climb, and caves for robbers, and a little circle of wet grass in the
midst of rhododendron bushes for fairies to plot and plan in; and for
very hot afternoons a soft bank where you could lie in the shade of a
cedar which seemed to bless the earth with its broad hands.
Every morning after lessons the four children used to meet in one of
these gardens and play till dinner-time. Sometimes they would play
cricket until they were too tired to run another yard, and then lean
over the rim of the fountain and watch the goldfish gliding silently
through the water, or they would sail their boats on the pond, or join
in the marriage ceremonies of two of the blue ants that lived in the
bark of the cedar. There was always plenty of excitement at a blue ant's
wedding, on account of the bad behaviour of the company. The bridegroom
had a way of ignoring the solemnity of the occasion and trying to walk
to church with one of the bridesmaids, or even the bride's mother, while
sometimes the bride would forget all about her duties, and leave the
procession in order to pick up and stagger away with a ridiculous piece
of wood which she could not possibly really need. Very often the bride
had to be changed as often as six times before the church was reached,
where Bertram, who always insisted on being the clergy-man, was waiting
to perform the service. Ants, it must be confessed, are not good at
games: they are too busy, or, as Bertram put it, too selfish. Neither
are wood-lice. Just at important moments wood-lice turn sulky and roll
themselves into little balls. Worms are most trust-worthy, although
never eager for sensible play; but worms are slimy, and Beryl always
refused to touch them. Spiders, too, have a way of getting down one's
neck. Perhaps frogs are best of all. Frogs are quite satisfactory; they
always jump when you touch them up. Toads, on the other hand, are sulky;
but their eyes are good to look into.
On this particular morning, Bertram and Beryl, Bobus and Aline met as
usual, but for some reason or other they found it impossible to have a
really good game; whatever they tried appeared flat and tiresome. They
began with cricket and were fairly successful until Bobus hit the ball
into the pond, where it immediately sank. Hitherto it always had
floated. Cricket, therefore, was over. Hide-and-seek took its place and
was going pretty well until Aline fell and hurt her knee. So no more
hide-and-seek. They tried the blue ants, and then the lizards that lived
under the leaves in the violet bed; but met with nothing but
unsociableness. The ants were quite nasty at being interfered with, and
one of them crawled up Beryl's arm.
At last the children made up their minds to try no longer, and instead
they lay on their backs on the grass and grumbled. It was clear that the
world was against them, and what is the good of fighting in the face of
such opposition? Bertram began the grumbling. 'Old Tabby,' he
said,--that being the way in which he spoke of Miss Tabitha, his
governess,--'is a beast. She makes me learn heaps of things which nobody
can ever need to know.'
'And I mayn't have a new doll,' said Beryl.
'And I mayn't stay up later than eight,' said Bobus.
'And I mayn't eat cake until I've had three pieces of horrid bread and
butter,' said Aline.
'It's a shame,' said all.
'Yes,' Bertram went on, 'and my robin wasn't singing this morning.'
'No more was my linnet,' said Beryl.
'No more was my chaffinch,' said Bobus.
'And no more was my blackbird,' said Aline.
'It's a shame,' said Bertram again; 'everything's against us. Except,'
he added, pulling the card from his pocket, 'except the
Amel--Amelior--except the Ameliorator.'
'Why, have you got one too?' Aline asked, producing a card exactly like
it, and as she did so Beryl and Bobus also each showed one. On comparing
notes it seemed that all the cards had come in the night in the same
mysterious way.
The four children looked at each other in silence. They all wanted to
say the same thing, but no one wished to be first. Bertram, as usual,
took the lead: 'Let's go and see the Am--what-d'ye-call-him,' he said.