Each of them hopes that he may one day find the magic garland, and never grow old and staid, and be able to go a-visiting to Fairyland. After all, it must be lying about somewhere, so if you find it, you’ll know what to do with it, won’t you? But be sure to give it to a lamb with a black nose. They’re so much the prettiest. FOURTEEN The Magic Umbrella There was once a wizard who possessed a magic umbrella; and, being rather careless in his habits, he had the misfortune to leave it behind him in a small country town where he had had an appointment to meet a friend in the market-place at midnight. He left it standing against one of the wooden market stalls, and there it was found next morning by a farmer’s wife who had come into town to sell her butter and eggs. “That’s a good, strong-looking umbrella,” she said to herself; “if no one comes to claim it I shall keep it.” No one made any inquiries, so she took possession of it, and when she went home in the evening, the umbrella went with her. Now, as I said before, this was no ordinary umbrella, but was possessed of magic powers. If you held it open in your hand and counted three and then stopped, you found yourself in your own house. If you counted five, however, you found yourself where you most desired to be. But if you counted up to seven, you were immediately carried away to the top of the nearest church spire. Now of all this the farmer’s wife was quite unaware, and you shall hear what befell her in consequence. It chanced to be very wet on the next market day, and when presently the rain began to drip upon her bonnet through the canvas roof of the stall, she was very glad to be able to put up the umbrella and shelter beneath it. It was about three o’clock in the afternoon and she had sold most of her eggs and butter. A little boy came along and asked for three fresh eggs. “There you are, my love,” she said. “The last three.” She held the umbrella in one hand and with the other put the eggs into the boy’s basket. “One, two, three,” she said. And instantly she found herself standing in the middle of her own pleasant kitchen, with her basket on her arm and the open umbrella still firmly held in her hand. You can imagine how surprised and puzzled she was. She hadn’t the faintest idea how she had got there, but she decided to say nothing about it to any one. When presently her husband came in for his tea he asked why she had come home so early. “I had a bit of a headache,” she said. “I think the sun was too strong for me.” The farmer gave a great guffaw. “Come, come, mother,” he said, “you must have been dreaming. There’s been no sun to-day, neither in town nor country.” [Illustration] “Well, maybe it was the damp that got into my head,” said his wife. “I think I’ll go to bed and have a basin of hot gruel.” So she went to bed and had the hot gruel, and by the next morning she had almost forgotten all about her queer adventure.