Produced by Mary Glenn Krause, Val Wooff and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by the Library of Congress)
[Illustration: _Up the garden ran the King_]
_Chapter Eleven_ The Blue-Gum Policeman 134
Turned Heels Up and Came Floating Down Head First 97
With that He Unfolded a Sheet of Music and Prepared to Sing 107
Away He Went, Straight for the Palace 131
Nor Was it Surprising That She Should Sit and Stare 143
"Edward can't come," said Margaret: "he'd get tired too soon and want to go home again."
"No, Edward can't come," Frances agreed. "His legs are too short. We must wait till he goes upstairs for his nap, and then we'll start."
There were three children in the family: Margaret, who was nearly eight; Frances, who was six and a quarter; and Edward, who, being only half way between three and four, was still--as Frances had sagely remarked--too short in the legs for such an enterprise as the two little girls had in mind.
They had been spending the winter on the coast of Southern California, when, one morning in April, Margaret and Frances went out into the road in front of the house, and turning their backs to the sun, amused themselves by running after their shadows, trying to step on their own heads--a feat they had often attempted before, but never yet with any success.
While they were thus occupied, their father, coming out of the house, stood on the edge of the sidewalk watching them, and when the two children, tousled and breathless, presently came back to him, he put an arm round the shoulders of each, saying:
"What are you doing, Chicks? Chasing shadows?"
"Yes, Daddy." It was Margaret who replied. "We were trying to get to the other end--"
"So's we could tread on our own heads," said Frances, who never liked to be left out of the conversation.
"Ah! A difficult thing to do. Nobody ever succeeded yet that I know of except little Tom Titmouse, and very much surprised he was when he got there."
"Why?" asked both children, with eager anticipation, scenting a story.
"Be-cause," replied their father, spreading out the word in order to give himself time to think. "Because--But it's too long a story to tell you now, children, for I must leave in a minute. So the story must wait till this evening--unless you should manage to catch your shadows before I get home again, and then _you_ can tell _me_ whether it is all true or not."