“There’s the Museum,” said Cyril hopefully; “there are lots of things from your country there. If only we could disguise you a little.” “I know,” said Anthea suddenly. “Mother’s old theatre cloak, and there are a lot of her old hats in the big box.” The blue silk, lace-trimmed cloak did indeed hide some of the Queen’s startling splendours, but the hat fitted very badly. It had pink roses in it; and there was something about the coat or the hat or the Queen, that made her look somehow not very respectable. “Oh, never mind,” said Anthea, when Cyril whispered this. “The thing is to get her out before Nurse has finished her forty winks. I should think she’s about got to the thirty-ninth wink by now.” “Come on then,” said Robert. “You know how dangerous it is. Let’s make haste into the Museum. If any of those people you made guys of do fetch the police, they won’t think of looking for you there.” The blue silk coat and the pink-rosed hat attracted almost as much attention as the royal costume had done; and the children were uncommonly glad to get out of the noisy streets into the grey quiet of the Museum. “Parcels and umbrellas to be left here,” said a man at the counter. The party had no umbrellas, and the only parcel was the bag containing the Psammead, which the Queen had insisted should be brought. “_I’m_ not going to be left,” said the Psammead softly, “so don’t you think it.” “I’ll wait outside with you,” said Anthea hastily, and went to sit on the seat near the drinking fountain. “Don’t sit so near that nasty fountain,” said the creature crossly; “I might get splashed.” Anthea obediently moved to another seat and waited. Indeed she waited, and waited, and waited, and waited, and waited. The Psammead dropped into an uneasy slumber. Anthea had long ceased to watch the swing-door that always let out the wrong person, and she was herself almost asleep, and still the others did not come back. It was quite a start when Anthea suddenly realized that they _had_ come back, and that they were not alone. Behind them was quite a crowd of men in uniform, and several gentlemen were there. Everyone seemed very angry. “Now go,” said the nicest of the angry gentlemen. “Take the poor, demented thing home and tell your parents she ought to be properly looked after.” “If you can’t get her to go we must send for the police,” said the nastiest gentleman. “But we don’t wish to use harsh measures,” added the nice one, who was really very nice indeed, and seemed to be over all the others. “May I speak to my sister a moment first?” asked Robert. The nicest gentleman nodded, and the officials stood round the Queen, the others forming a sort of guard while Robert crossed over to Anthea.