"Yes, Daddy." It was Margaret who replied. "We were trying to get to the other end--" "So's we could tread on our own heads," said Frances, who never liked to be left out of the conversation. "Ah! A difficult thing to do. Nobody ever succeeded yet that I know of except little Tom Titmouse, and very much surprised he was when he got there." "Why?" asked both children, with eager anticipation, scenting a story. "Be-cause," replied their father, spreading out the word in order to give himself time to think. "Because--But it's too long a story to tell you now, children, for I must leave in a minute. So the story must wait till this evening--unless you should manage to catch your shadows before I get home again, and then _you_ can tell _me_ whether it is all true or not." "Whether what is all true, Daddy?" asked Margaret. "Why, all those things that Tommy Titmouse saw: King Coco Bolo and the Archbishop and Lobsterneck, the Great American Snap-dragon, and--but I must go, children. I must be off. Good-bye! There's my car coming now." So saying, Daddy ran to the street corner, and there, with a wave of his hand, he vanished, leaving the two little girls standing before the front gate, thinking. "We'll try this morning," said Margaret with decision. "We'll start just as soon as Edward goes upstairs for his nap." Accordingly, the moment Edward's short legs had conveyed him unwillingly to bed, the two little girls went out at the back gate to where a large open stretch of land sloped gently down to the ocean, about half a mile away. A few trees were scattered here and there upon the slope, and between them, far out upon the water, might be seen some bare, rocky islands, with the sight of which the children were familiar--islands where nobody lived and to which nobody ever went. Margaret was a rather tall little girl, with brown eyes and brown hair and red cheeks, while Frances, who was not quite so tall, had light hair and hazel eyes and pink cheeks, as well as a band of freckles all across her nose. Both of them were wearing that morning their pink dresses and flowered hair-ribbons--a very fortunate circumstance, as it turned out. Margaret also wore a wide-brimmed straw hat, while her sister carried instead a pink-and-white parasol--one of her last birthday presents. She took with her as well another of her birthday presents: a yellow plush puppy with black spots, Periwinkle by name, whose legs were like sausages, whose eyes were glittering black beads, and whose red worsted mouth was set in a perpetual smile. Thus equipped, the children set forth, and turning their backs to the sun and their faces to the ocean, they walked after their shadows, steadily and briskly, though without haste. "For," said Frances, "the way to do is not to hurry. That is what Daddy said that day we walked to the old wreck. He said, 'Take it easy and keep going,' and we did and we got there."