“As all we’ve seen,” put in Betty eagerly. “Oh, Godmother, it has been wonderful! But no one will ever believe it.” “Don’t try to make them,” replied Godmother. “You’ll find it quite easy not to,” she added with her queer little smile. Then as the bell rang, “Here comes your maid to fetch you.” “Oh, but this isn’t the end of the magic? You’ll let me come again? You’ll let me see how London goes on?” Betty implored. “To-morrow I’m going to take you to a Museum,” returned the old lady. “I don’t think you’ll find it dull,” she said comfortingly, as Betty’s face fell. “I shall fetch you at three o’clock, and mind you don’t keep me waiting.” A FAIRY TALE MUSEUM Punctually at three o’clock next day, Godmother’s pretty little car pulled up at the door of Betty’s home in Chelsea, and a few minutes later she was driving away with her. “Well!” began Godmother, as she observed a curious expression upon the face of her godchild, “did you try explaining to people all you saw yesterday?” “Why, Godmother, till I caught sight of you just now, I’d forgotten all about it!” exclaimed Betty, breathless with surprise. “I mean I’d forgotten all the magic part about the ring and actually going back to _see_ London as it was when the Romans were here,” she explained. “I kept wondering why I had a picture in my mind of London as it looked then. I simply couldn’t think how it was I knew, and I’ve only just remembered.” “I told you that it wouldn’t be difficult to keep the secret,” returned Godmother, laughing. “Oh, it’s a lovely secret!” Betty exclaimed. “Where are we going now?” “I’m taking you to a Museum. But as you will see, it is, in its own way, a sort of fairy-tale place. A beautiful house, called Lancaster House, close to St. James’s Palace, has been turned into a kind of treasure-palace, containing all sorts of things that have to do with London from the very earliest times up to the present day. It is called _The London Museum_, and _you_ ought to find it even more fascinating than it appears to most other people.” “I generally hate Museums,” said Betty frankly. “But then I’ve never been to one with you before.” “You won’t hate this one,” was Godmother’s reply. They were driving down St. James’s Street now, and in a few moments the car stopped before a stately-looking house quite near to the old Palace of St. James. “Now,” said Godmother, as they went up the steps, “the way to see Museums is to look at a very little at a time, so, though this place is full of interesting things, I’m only going to show you one or two of them. First of all, we go downstairs into the basement.”