“Yes, I suppose it’s time for you to be going, if go you really must,” sighed Sandy.  “And since you’re in such a hurry, I’m happy to be able to include you in that consignment of your aunt’s after all.  She”—­and he bowed gallantly to the Queen—­“says it’s all right, and what she says goes, though to be sure, it’s out of order, slightly out of order!” As he spoke he took his list out of his pocket and ran his eye over it once more.  “Hullo,” said he in a surprised tone, “there’s one more item on Miss Jane Mackenzie’s and it seems to be missing!  Comparatively unimportant, but I like to have my things complete.  ’One lost Kitten!’ Now what can have become of that, I wonder?”

It was Captain Jinks’ voice that broke the silence.  “Prisoner of War, sir!  Taken with others by the Commander-in-Chief in the recent glorious victory of the tin soldiers over the cat pirates.  Here you are, sir!” He motioned to two of the soldiers who stood on guard over something in a dim corner of the glade.  The soldiers hustled the object forward.  It was Captain Mittens!  Mittens despoiled of his scarlet sash, his turban, his sword and pistols, even of his fierce expression!  Mittens, no longer a bold and bloody robber of the seas but a humble repentant kitten who let himself be cuddled into Peter’s arms without so much as a single scratch.

Peter stroked the pirate—­and the pirate purred!

“Now then, all ready?  All aboard!” It was Sandy’s voice who spoke and Sandy’s were the arms that lifted the children gently into the enormous sack held open by Noddy and Blink, and placed them at the top of the toboggan-slide—­but they were feeling too curiously tired and sleepy to understand exactly what was happening.  Rudolf, still clasping his tin sword—­that invaluable weapon—­pillowed his sleepy head on the shoulder of the Generous Gardener.  Ann rested comfortably on the large lap of the Cook-who-liked-living-in-the-Country, and Peter snuggled close beside her, holding Mittens tightly in his arms.

[Illustration:  “Now then, all ready?”]

They thought the new non-fadable curtains were packed in somewhere, they thought they saw the kindly face of old Sandy peeping into the mouth of the sack at them while the whole troop of Good Dreams pushed and crowded one another to peer at them over his shoulder.  Among all the familiar faces were some they had almost forgotten but were not sorry to see again:  the Lady Goose, waving her spoon; the Gentleman Goose, and Squealer and Squawker, his two little duck apprentices; the cheerful grinning countenances of Prowler and Growler, the mates, with Toddles and Towser the common sea-cats.  But at the last all grew dim, faded, melted into mist until two figures only stood out clearly and distinctly.  One was the Corn-cob Queen smiling and waving her tiny hand in loving farewell, the other that of a little boy in long trousers and a frill collar, a merry-faced boy with a toy sword buckled round his waist and a toy ship in his hand.  Though they had not seen him until now, the children recognized him at once.  It was the little boy Aunt Jane had told them of—­the Little Boy who Went Away to Sea.  It was also the Commander-in-Chief of the tin soldiers, whom the Queen had said they might be allowed to see, if they were good.