And so it turned out. The idea appealed irresistibly to everyone but Robert, and even he was brought round by Anthea's suggestion that he should have a double share of any money they might make. There was a little old pony-cart in the coach-house--the kind that is called a governess-cart. It seemed desirable to get to the Fair as quickly as possible, so Robert--who could now take enormous steps and so go very fast indeed--consented to wheel the others in this. It was as easy to him now as wheeling the Lamb in the mail-cart had been in the morning. The Lamb's cold prevented his being of the party. It was a strange sensation being wheeled in a pony-carriage by a giant. Everyone enjoyed the journey except Robert and the few people they passed on the way. These mostly went into what looked like some kind of standing-up fits by the roadside, as Anthea said. Just outside Benenhurst, Robert hid in a barn, and the others went on to the Fair. [Illustration: It was a strange sensation being wheeled in a pony-carriage by a giant] There were some swings, and a hooting-tooting blaring merry-go-round, and a shooting-gallery and Aunt Sallies. Resisting an impulse to win a cocoanut,--or at least to attempt the enterprise,--Cyril went up to the woman who was loading little guns before the array of glass bottles on strings against a sheet of canvas. "Here you are, little gentleman!" she said. "Penny a shot!" "No, thank you," said Cyril, "we are here on business, not on pleasure. Who's the master?" "The what?" "The master--the head--the boss of the show." "Over there," she said, pointing to a stout man in a dirty linen jacket who was sleeping in the sun; "but I don't advise you to wake him sudden. His temper's contrairy, especially these hot days. Better have a shot while you're waiting." "It's rather important," said Cyril. "It'll be very profitable to him. I think he'll be sorry if we take it away." "Oh, if it's money in his pocket," said the woman. "No kid now? What is it?" "It's a _giant_." "You _are_ kidding?" "Come along and see," said Anthea. The woman looked doubtfully at them, then she called to a ragged little girl in striped stockings and a dingy white petticoat that came below her brown frock, and leaving her in charge of the "shooting-gallery" she turned to Anthea and said, "Well, hurry up! But if you _are_ kidding, you'd best say so. I'm as mild as milk myself, but my Bill he's a fair terror and"-- Anthea led the way to the barn. "It really _is_ a giant," she said. "He's a giant little boy--in a suit like my brother's there. And we didn't bring him up to the Fair because people do stare so, and they seem to go into kind of standing-up fits when they see him. And we thought perhaps you'd like to show him and get pennies; and if you like to pay us something, you can--only, it'll have to be rather a lot, because we promised him he should have a double share of whatever we made."