"I knew it was no good," Edred said crossly; "and I've made an ass of myself for nothing." "Well, I've often made one of myself," said Elfrida comfortingly, "and I will again if you like. But I don't suppose it'll be any more good than yours." Elfrida frowned fiercely and the feathers on her Indian head-dress quivered with the intensity of her effort. "Is it coming?" Edred asked in anxious tones, and she nodded distractedly. "Great Mouldiestwarp, on you we call To do the greatest magic of all; To show us how we are to find Dear Dickie who is lame and kind. Do this for us, and on our hearts we swore We'll never ask you for anything more." "I don't see that it's so much better than mine," said Edred, "and it ought to be _swear_, not _swore_." "I don't think it is. But you didn't finish yours. And it couldn't be 'swear,' because of rhyming," Elfrida explained. "But I'm sure if the Mouldiestwarp hears it he won't care tuppence whether it's swear or swore. He is much too great. He's far above grammar, I'm sure." "I wish every one was," sighed Edred, and I dare say you have often felt the same. "Well, fire away! Not that it's any good. Don't you remember you can only get at the Mouldiestwarp by a noble deed? And wanting to find Dickie isn't noble." "No," she agreed; "but then if we could get Dickie back by doing a noble deed we'd do it like a shot, wouldn't we?" "Oh! I suppose so," said Edred grumpily; "fire away, can't you?" Elfrida fired away, and the next moment it was plain that Elfrida's poetry was more potent than Edred's; also that a little bad grammar is a trifle to a mighty Mouldiwarp. For the walls of Edred's room receded further and further, till the children found themselves in a great white hall with avenues of tall pillars stretching in every direction as far as you could see. The hall was crowded with people dressed in costumes of all countries and all ages--Chinamen, Indians, Crusaders in armor, powdered ladies, doubleted gentlemen, Cavaliers in curls, Turks in turbans, Arabs, monks, abbesses, jesters, grandees with ruffs round their necks, and savages with kilts of thatch. Every kind of dress you can think of was there. Only all the dresses were white. It was like a _redoute_, which is a fancy-dress ball where the guests may wear any dress they choose, only all the dresses must be of one color. Elfrida saw the whiteness all about her and looked down anxiously at her clothes and Edred's, which she remembered to have been of rather odd colors. Everything they wore was white now. Even the Roman sash, instead of having stripes blue and red and green and black and yellow, was of five different shades of white. If you think there are not so many shades of white, try to paper a room with white paper and get it at five different shops.