One day Chinky came tapping at the children's window. They came to it at once.
“Has the Wishing-Chair grown its wings again?” asked Peter, in excitement. Chinky shook his head.
“No. I haven't come to tell you that. I've just come to show you this.”
He pushed a piece of paper into their hands. This is what it said:
‘DEAR COUSIN CHINKY,
You haven't been to see my new house yet, so do come. I expect you have heard that I have moved to the Land of Goodies. It's simply lovely. Do come and see me soon. I have a biscuit tree growing in my garden, just coming into fruit, and a jelly plant growing round my front door.
Yours ever,
PIPKIN.’
“Well! Does your cousin really live there?” said Mollie, in wonder. “How lucky you are, Chinky. Now you can go and eat as many goodies as you like. I only wish we could come too.”
“I came to ask if you'd like to go with me,” said Chinky. “My cousin Pipkin won't mind. He's a very nice fellow, though I always thought he was a bit greedy. I expect that's why he bought a house in the Land of Goodies really—so that he could always have lots of things to eat. Why, if you pass a hedge you'll probably see that it's growing bars of chocolate.”
This sounded so exciting that the children felt they wanted to go at once.
“We can't,” said Chinky. “We'll have to wait for the Wishing-Chair to grow its wings again. The Land of Goodies is too far unless we go by Wishing-Chair.”
“How disappointing!” said Mollie. “I feel awfully hungry even at the thought of going. Do you suppose ice-creams grow there, Chinky? I never, never get enough ice-creams.”
“Oh, Mollie—you had eleven at a party the other day,” said Peter. “And you said you couldn't eat any more.”
“Oh, don't be silly. I was only being polite,” said Mollie. “I could have eaten eleven more. But what about Winks, Chinky? Is he coming, too?”
Winks had come back with them to the playroom, and had stayed a night with Chinky, and then gone to tell his people that he wasn't going back to Mister Grim's again. He meant to bring back some of his things with him, and spend some of the time with Chinky in the playroom and some with his other friends. He was very pleased indeed at being free.
“Winks can come if he's back in time,” said Chinky. “I don't know where he is at the moment. He's really rather naughty, you know, although he's nice, and very good fun. I hear that he met my Cousin Sleep-Alone the other evening and, as soon as poor old Sleep-Alone was fast asleep in a little shed in the middle of a field, Winks took along two donkeys that had lost themselves and told them to cuddle up to Sleep-Alone.”
“Oh, dear—what happened?” said Mollie.
“Well, Sleep-Alone woke up, of course, and tried to throw the donkeys out,” said Chinky, “but one of them gave him such a kick with its hind legs that he flew into the clouds, got caught on a big one, and hung there for a long time.”
“Well, it would certainly be a good place to sleep alone in,” said Mollie. “What a monkey Winks is!”
“Yes. I'm not surprised really that his family sent him to Mister Grim's school,” said Chinky. “Well, will you come with me to the Land of Goodies, then?”
“Of course,” said the children. “You needn't ask us that again.”
The next day was rainy. The children went down to the playroom as usual, but mother made them take a big umbrella to walk under. “It really is such a downpour,” she said.
They shook the raindrops off the umbrella as soon as they reached the playroom door. Chinky's voice came to them, raised in joy. “Is that you, Mollie and Peter? The Wishing-Chair has just grown its wings.”
“Oh, good!” cried Mollie, and ran in. Sure enough the chair was already waving its green and yellow wings.
“But it's pouring with rain,” said Peter, looking in at the door as he struggled to put down the big umbrella. “We shall get soaked if we go miles through this rain.”
“We'll take the umbrella,” said Mollie. “It will cover all three of us easily.”
“Four of us,” said Winks, and he popped out of the cupboard and grinned at them. “I've come back for a day or two. I hid in the cupboard in case it was your mother or somebody coming.”
“Oh, Winks, I'm so glad you're coming, too,” said Mollie. “Can we go now, this very minute, Chinky?”
“I don't see why not,” said Chinky. “Don't put down that umbrella, Peter, we'll come now and you can hold it over us as we fly.”
So very soon all four were sitting in the Wishing-Chair, flying through the rain. Peter held the big umbrella over them, and although their legs got a bit wet, the rest of them was quite dry.
“It's quite a long journey, so I hope the chair will fly fast,” said Chinky. “It will be a bit dull because the rain-clouds stop us from seeing anything.”
The Chair suddenly began to rise high. It went right through the purple-grey clouds, higher and higher and higher—and then at last it was through the very last of them, and the children found themselves far above the topmost clouds, full in the blazing sun!
“Well,” said Peter, trying to shut the umbrella, “what a brainy idea of yours, Wishing-Chair. Now we shall soon be warm and dry again. Blow this umbrella! I simply can't shut it.”
So it had to remain open and, as it happened, it was a very good thing it did, because Winks tried to catch a swallow going past at sixty miles an hour, and overbalanced out of the chair! He clutched at the umbrella as he fell and down he went, with the umbrella acting just like a parachute!
“Very clever of you, Winks!” said Chinky, as the chair swooped down and hovered by the umbrella for Winks to climb on to the seat again. “I hope you only do this sort of thing when there's an open umbrella to catch hold of!”
Winks looked rather pale. He sat panting on the seat. “I got a fright,” he said. “I really did.”
“Well, don't be frightened if you do fall,” said Mollie. “Do what Chinky did when he once fell! He changed himself into a large snow-flake and fell gently to earth! He hadn't even a bruise when he changed back to himself again.”
“Very clever. I must remember that,” said Winks. “I say, doesn't this Wishing-Chair fly fast?”
It certainly did. It flew even faster than the swallows, and passed over miles and miles of country, which lay spread out like a coloured map far below. The children caught glimpses of it through openings in the clouds.
“What's your cousin Pipkin like?” asked Mollie.
“Well, he was a bit plump,” said Chinky. “And I expect he's plumper still now that he lives in the Land of Goodies. He's very generous and kind, though he's rather greedy, too. He could easily beat Mollie at eating ice-creams.”
“Could he really?” said Mollie, who hadn't thought there was anyone who could possibly do that. “Oh, look, Chinky-—we're going downwards. Are we there?”
They went down and down through layers of clouds. When they came below them they found that the rain had stopped. Chinky peered down.
“Yes—we're there. Now just remember this, all of you—you can eat whatever is growing on bushes, hedges, or trees, but you mustn't eat anybody's house.”
Peter and Mollie stared at him in wonder.
“Eat anybody's house! Are the houses made of eatable things, then?”
“Good gracious, yes,” said Chinky. “Everything is eatable in the Land of Goodies—even the chimneys! They are usually made of marzipan.”
The Wishing-Chair landed on the ground. The children jumped off quickly, anxious to see this wonderful land. They looked round.
Mollie's eyes grew wide. “Look—look, Peter— there's a bush growing currant buns. It is really. And look, there's a hedge with a funny-looking fruit—it's bars of chocolate!”
“And look at that house!” cried Peter. “It's all decorated with icing sugar—isn't it pretty? And it's got little silver balls here and there in its walls—and all down its front door too.”
&nb
sp; “Look at these funny flowers in the grass!” cried Mollie. “I do believe they are jam tarts! Chinky, can I pick one?''
“Pick a whole bunch if you like,” said Chinky. “They're growing wild.”
“Oh—just fancy jam tarts growing wild,” said Mollie, in wonder, and she picked two. “One's got a yellow middle—it's lemon curd—and the other's got a red middle—it's raspberry jam,” she said, tasting them.
“Better come and find my cousin Pipkin,” said Chinky. “We're not supposed to come to the Land of Goodies except by invitation, so we'd better find him, so that he can say we are his guests. We don't want to be turned out before we've picked a nice bunch of jam tarts, currant buns and chocolate biscuits!”
Chinky asked a passer-by where his cousin Pipkin lived. Luckily, it was very near. They hurried along, only picking a few currant buns on the way, till they came to a kind of bungalow. It was round and its roof was quite flat.
“Why, it's built the shape of a cake!” cried Mollie. “And look, it's got cherries sticking out of the walls— and aren't those nuts on the roof—sticking up like they do in some cakes? Oh, Chinky, I believe your cousin lives in a cake-house!”
“Well, he won't need to do much shopping then,” said Chinky, with a grin. “He can just stay indoors and nibble at his walls!”
They went in at a gate that looked as if it were made of barley sugar. Chinky knocked at the door. It was opened by a very, very fat pixie indeed! He fell on Chinky in delight, almost knocked him over, and kissed him soundly on his cheek.
“Cousin Chinky! You've come to see me after all!” he cried. “And who are these nice people with you?”
“Mollie and Peter and Winks,” said Chinky.
“Glad to meet you,” said Pipkin. “Now—how would you like to see my Biscuit Tree to begin with? And after that we'll go a nice hungry walk, and see what we can find!”
An Afternoon with Cousin Pipkin
PIPKIN took them to see his Biscuit Tree. This was really marvellous. It had buds that opened out into brown biscuits—chocolate ones! There they hung on the tree, looking most delicious.
“Pick as many as you like,” said Pipkin, generously. “It goes on flowering for months.”
“Aren't you lucky to have a Chocolate Biscuit Tree,” said Mollie, picking two or three biscuits and eating them.
“Well—it's not so good when the sun is really hot,” said Pipkin. “The chocolate melts then, you know. It was most annoying the other afternoon. It was very hot and I sat down under my Biscuit Tree for shade— and I fell asleep. The sun melted the chocolate on the biscuits and it all dripped over me, from top to bottom. I was a sight when I got up!”
Everyone laughed. They ate a lot of the biscuits and then Mollie remembered something else.
“You said in your letter to Chinky that you had a jelly plant,” said Mollie. “Could we see that, too?”
Pipkin led the way round to his front door. Then the children saw something they had not noticed when they had first arrived. A climbing plant trailed over the door. It had curious big, flat flowers, shaped like white plates.
“The middle of the white flowers is full of coloured jelly! “ cried Mollie. “Gracious—you want to walk about with spoons and forks hanging at your belt in this land!”
“Well, we do, usually,” said Pipkin. “I'll get you a spoon each—then you can taste the jelly in my jelly plant.”
It was really lovely jelly. “I should like to eat two or three,” said Mollie, “but I do so want to leave room for something else. Can we go for a walk now, Pipkin?”
“Certainly,” said Pipkin. So off they went, each carrying a spoon. It was a most exciting walk. They picked bunches of boiled sweets growing on a hedge like grapes, they came to a stream that ran ginger beer instead of water and they actually found meat-pies growing on a bush.
The ginger beer was lovely, but as they had no glasses they had to lie down and lap like dogs. “I should have remembered to bring one or two enamel mugs,” said Pipkin. “We shall pass a lemonade stream soon.”
“Is any ice-cream growing anywhere?” asked Mollie longingly. “I expect that's a silly question, really, but I would so like an ice.”
“Oh, yes,” said Pipkin. “But you'll have to go down into the cool valley for that. It's too hot here in the sun—the ice-cream melts as soon as it comes into flower.”
“Where's the valley?” said Mollie. “Oh—down there. I'm going there, then.”
They all went down into the cool valley and, to Mollie's enormous delight, found a sturdy-stemmed plant with flat green leaves, in the middle of which grew pink, brown or yellow buds, shaped like cornets.
“Ice-creams!” cried Mollie, and picked one. “Oooh! This is a vanilla one. I shall pick a pink flower next and that will be strawberry.”
“I've got a chocolate ice,” said Peter. “So has Winks.”
Pipkin and Chinky ate as many as the others. Chinky could quite well see why his cousin had grown so fat. Anyone would, in the Land of Goodies. He felt rather fat himself!
“Now let's go to the village,” said Pipkin. “I'm sure you'd all like to see the food in the shops there, really delicious.”
“Is there tomato soup?” asked Peter. It was his very favourite soup.
“I'll take you to the soup shop,” said Pipkin, and he did. It was a most exciting shop. It had a row of taps in it, all marked with names—such as tomato, potato, chicken, onion, pea—and you chose which you wanted to turn, and out came soup—tomato, chicken, or whatever you wanted!
“There isn't the soup I like best,” said Winks, sadly.
“Why, what do you like?” asked Pipkin.
“I like Pepper soup,” said Winks, solemnly.
“You don't!” said Chinky. “It would be terribly, terribly hot.”
“Well, I like it—and there isn't any,” said Winks.
“There's a tap over there without any name,” said Pipkin. “It will produce whatever soup you want that isn't here. I’ll get some Pepper soup for you.”
He took a soup-plate and went to the tap without a name. “Pepper Soup,” he said, and a stream of hot soup came out, red in colour.
“There you are, red, pepper soup.” he said, and handed it to Winks. “Now we'll see if it really is your favourite soup or not!”
“'Course it is!” said Winks, and took a large spoonful. But, oh dear, oh dear, how he choked and how he spluttered! He had to be banged on the back, he had to be given a drink of cold water, and then he wanted a biscuit to take the taste of the pepper soup out of his mouth. So Mollie had to run out and find a Biscuit-tree and pick him one.
“It serves you right for saying what isn't true,” she said to Winks. “You didn't like Pepper soup, so you shouldn't have asked for any.”
“I was just being funny,” said poor Winks.
“Well, we thought it was all very funny, especially when you took that spoonful,” said Peter. “But it couldn't have been so funny to you. Now—can I get you a little Mustard soup, Winks?”
But Winks had had enough of soups. “Let's leave this soup shop,” he said. “What's in the next one?”
The next one was a baker's shop. There were iced cakes of all shapes and colours set in rows upon rows. How delicious they looked!
“Wouldn't you each like to take one home with you?” said Pipkin. “You don't have to pay for them, you know.”
That was one of the nice things about the Land of Goodies. Nobody paid anyone anything. Mollie looked at the cakes. There was a blue one there, with yellow trimmings of icing sugar. Mollie had never seen a blue cake before.
“Can I have this one, do you think?” she said.
The baker looked at her. He was as plump as Pipkin and had a little wife as plump as himself. Their dark eyes looked like currants in their round little faces.
“Yes, you can have that,” said the baker. “What is your name, please?”
“Mollie,” said Mollie. “Why do you want to know?”
“Well, it's to be your cake, isn't it?” said the baker. He dabbed the cake and suddenly, in the very middle of the icing, came the letters M 0 L L I E—Mollie! Now it really was Mollie's cake.
Peter had one with his name, and Pipkin had another. Chinky chose a pretty pink cake and his name came up in white icing sugar. He was very pleased.
Winks' name came up spelt wrongly. The letters were W I N X S, and Peter pointed out that that was not the right way to spell his name. Winks hadn't noticed. He was a very bad speller. But Peter noticed it, and Winks chose another cake on which his name appeared spelt rightly. It was all very queer indeed.
“Well, Pipkin, thank you very much for a most interesting and delicious afternoon,” said Chinky, when they each had a cake to take home. “How I'm going to eat this cake I really don't know. Actually I don't feel as if I could ever eat anything again.”
“Oh, my dear fellow, don't say that! “ said Pipkin, quite alarmed. “You have eaten very little today, very little indeed. Why, I usually eat three times as much as you have eaten.”
“Yes, I believe you,” said Chinky, looking at the plump Pipkin.
They came to Pipkin's house and said goodbye to him. Then they went off to find their Wishing-Chair. Winks lagged behind, nibbling his cake. The others hurried on. They knew exactly where they had left the chair.
Suddenly they heard Chinky give a loud cry of anger. “Look! Winks is doing JUST what I said nobody was to do! He's breaking off bits of gate-posts to chew— and look, he's taken a bit of window-sill—it's made of gingerbread! And now he's throwing currant buns at that marzipan chimney to try to break it off!”
So he was! Poor Winks—he simply couldn't change from a bad brownie to a good one all at once. He was tired of being good and now he was being thoroughly naughty.
Crash! Down came the chimney, and Winks ran to it to break off bits of marzipan. And round the corner came two policemen! They had heard the crash and come to see what it was. When they saw Winks actually breaking bits off the chimney they blew their whistles loudly and ran up to him.