“Oh, dear! Oh, dear! However can you talk so, my lambs?” cried poor Nurse. She piled some wood on the fire, and cleared away the dishes that were on the nursery table. Then, while the children sat on the hearth-rug and chattered, she left the room, shaking her head, and muttering: “Oh, dear! I hope they’ll never be punished for the dreadful things they say. Poor lambs! Just to think of not believing in the Make Believe folk!” Now, as our three children sat on the rug in front of the nursery fire, they all fell asleep; and a very strange thing happened. Whether the events that followed were real or only dreamed, they never could know quite surely. But if it was all a dream,—_if_ it was all a dream, I say,—there is something very odd about it: _for they all dreamed the same thing_! The first thing that happened was that a hum and buzz like that of a great big bumblebee filled the room. Next moment a small, anxious voice was exclaiming: “At last I’ve found you! I’ve nearly worried my wings off; I have indeed!” They all three started up, rubbing their eyes. Just alighting on the hearth-rug before them, was a little green sprite, with goggle eyes, and gauzy wings like a dragon-fly. “Heavens!” gasped Meg. “What in the world is it?” “I am the Bizzybuzz,” answered the small creature. “And I have been sent by Mother Goose to summon you all three to Make Believe Land!” [Illustration] II _Make-Believing_ [Illustration] [Illustration] CHAPTER II _Make-Believing_ The children rubbed their eyes. What was a bizzybuzz? And Make Believe Land! Mother Goose! Were they dreaming? No, they knew they could not be dreaming, for they would never dream such nonsense as this! Meanwhile the sprite stood on the hearth-rug, his slender wings still whirring faintly, and his goggle eyes quite anxious. “Oh, dear!” he exclaimed at last. “You really are slow about starting, you know! Or”—hopefully—“have you been getting ready,—packing up and all that?” This was too much for Meg’s practical soul. Besides, she was glad to have a chance to vent her ruffled and bewildered feelings. “What nonsense!” she said sharply. “You know we haven’t moved! How could we have been packing up?” “Why,” exclaimed Bizzybuzz, looking greatly surprised, “do you really have to _do_ things here? In Make Believe Land we have only to _imagine_ we are doing them.” “Rot!” blurted Dick, like an explosion. “‘Rot’!” repeated Bizzybuzz, innocently. “What is that?” And Dick felt rather ashamed of himself. “But how do you make believe things?” asked Bab, the curious. Bizzybuzz looked at her in as pitying a way as he could manage, considering the queerness of his eyes. “Don’t you know how to make believe?” he asked earnestly. “And you a little girl!” He almost cried about it. The children looked at each other. For the first time they were just a wee bit discontented with their sensible views. How did it feel, they wondered, to make believe?