“It would be well, your Majesties,” he said, “if a small allowance of the cup of oblivion were served out to these land children, so that they may not remember their adventures here. It is not well for the Earth People to know too much of the dwellers in the sea. There is a sacred vessel which has long been preserved among the civic plate. I propose that this vessel should be presented to our guests as a mark of our esteem; that they shall bear it with them, and drink the contents as soon as they set foot on their own shores.” He was at once sent to fetch the sacred vessel. It was a stone ginger beer bottle. “I do really think we ought to go,” said Mavis again. There were farewells to be said—a very loving farewell to the Princesses, a very friendly one to the fortunate Ulfin, and then a little party left the Palace quietly and for the last time made the journey to the quiet Iswater where the King of Merland had so long professed Conchology. Arrived at this spot the King spoke to the King and Queen of the Under Folk. “Swallow this charm,” he said, “in equal shares—then rise to the surface of the lake and say the charm which I perceive the Earth children have taught you as we came along. The rest will be easy and beautiful. We shall never forget you, and your hearts will remember us, though your minds must forget. Farewell.” The King and Queen rose through the waters and disappeared. Next moment a strong attraction like that which needles feel for magnets drew the children from the side of the Mer King. They shut their eyes, and when they opened them they were on dry land in a wood by a lake—and Francis had a ginger beer bottle in his hand. The King and Queen of the Under Folk must have said at once the charm to recall the children to earth. “It works more slowly on land, the Astrologer said,” Reuben remarked. “Before we drink and forget everything I want to tell you that I think you’ve all been real bricks to me. And if you don’t mind, I’ll take off these girls’ things.” He did, appearing in shirt and knickerbockers. “Good-bye,” he said, shaking hands with everyone. “But aren’t you coming home with us?” “No,” he said, “the Astrologer told me the first man and woman I should see on land would be my long-lost Father and Mother, and I was to go straight to them with my little shirt and my little shoe that I’ve kept all this time, the ones that were mine when I was a stolen baby, and they’d know me and I should belong to them. But I hope we’ll meet again some day. Good-bye, and thank you. It was ripping being General of the Sea Urchins.”