Bruno ran back, with his booty, to the orchard wall, and pitched the apples over it one by one. ‘I’s welly afraid some of them’s gone under the wrong trees!’ he panted, on overtaking us again.
‘The wrong trees!’ laughed Sylvie. ‘Trees ca’n’t do wrong! There’s no such things as wrong trees!’
‘Then there’s no such things as right trees neither!’ cried Bruno. And Sylvie gave up the point.
‘Wait a minute, please!’ she said to me. ‘I must make Nero visible, you know!’
‘No, please don’t!’ cried Bruno, who had by this time mounted on the Royal back, and was twisting the Royal hair into a bridle. ‘It’ll be such fun to have him like this!’
‘Well, it does look funny,’ Sylvie admitted, and led the way to the farmhouse, where the farmer’s wife stood, evidently much perplexed at the weird procession now approaching her. ‘It’s summat gone wrong wi’ my spectacles, I doubt!’ she murmured, as she took them off, and began diligently rubbing them with a corner of her apron.
Meanwhile Sylvie had hastily pulled Bruno down from his steed, and had just time to make His Majesty wholly visible before the spectacles were resumed.
All was natural, now; but the good woman still looked a little uneasy about it. ‘My eyesight’s getting bad,’ she said, ‘but I see you now, my darlings! You’ll give me a kiss, won’t you?’
Bruno got behind me in a moment: however Sylvie put up her face, to be kissed, as representative of both, and we all went in together.