And then she found herself--in bed--wasn’t that a shame. She had been so happy sitting on the knee of the Man with the Growly Voice, so interested in his stories, then that _somebody_ (with the white cap and apron) had carried her off to bed. She couldn’t remember a thing about it, but of course that is the way it must have happened. Oh, if she could only find the Wishing Post, things like this would not happen, she’d see to that. What a wonderful thing it must be, this Wishing Post, and how she would love to see it--and--what a strange light was coming in the window. It was not morning, so it could not be sunlight, besides, sunlight is so bright. And it wasn’t a bit like moonlight, either. She grew very much interested, and sat up in bed to see. She was not at all afraid, for Maida was always a brave little girl, besides--comforting thought, if one _did_ call out, why, somebody (with a white cap and apron) was just in the next room. What a strange light--all pale and green and shimmering. My, isn’t that a long word! but it means the kind of light you see in dreams, and it seemed to come from under the window. Maida watched it as long as she could, but finally she crept out of bed, went to the window, and what do you think she saw outside--a really and truly flying machine. It was a long bag of cloth like a great big cigar, and underneath it was the dearest little wicker house something like a boat. She could see strange engines through the windows, and there were wings at the sides, and at the back a rudder. There was a steering wheel behind the wicker house, and beside it stood the Man with the Growly Voice. He looked up, saw her, smiled, and waved his hand. [Illustration: Maida Crept Out of Bed]