“Yes,” he said, “they’re all very well, but how are you going to eat them when you have got them?  Now you see what I wish for,” and he carefully wrote on his slip of paper, “Tablecloth, serviettes, plates, dishes, knives, forks, spoons, salt, pepper, mustard, oil, vinegar, glasses and a corkscrew.”  “There!” he exclaimed, “I think that will put us right.  Now watch carefully.  You see there is no deception!” and he laughingly rolled up his sleeves like a professional conjurer.

He placed the paper upon which he had written his list into his turban, shaking it violently.

To our surprise, in a few seconds it sounded as though there was something in it, and an instant later he drew forth from it a neatly folded snow-white tablecloth, the serviettes, spoons, forks, and in fact all the articles which he had named.

He set the children to work laying the cloth, while he placed the other lists in his turban, and in turn, beginning with a deliciously fresh-looking lobster salad, and a large game pie, he brought forth every one of the good things which had been wished for.

Fidge’s “something nice to drink” turned out to be bottles of lemonade, milk, soda water, and a bottle of wine for the grown-ups.

A more delicious feast it would be impossible to imagine.

We were just sitting down to enjoy it, and I had stuck the knife and fork into the game pie, when Marjorie sprang up with a little scream, brushing something from her face.

“Ough! a horrid caterpillar!” she cried.

“And here’s another!” declared Fidge, knocking one from his coat.

“And an earwig!” exclaimed Dick, picking one up from the cloth.

“Oh! and spiders!” screamed Lady Betty, jumping up and shaking her frock.

“Dear! dear! this will never do!” I said, for the place was swarming with insects, owing to the very dry summer which we had had.

“There ought to be a marquee like we had at the choir treat,” said Fidge.

“Oh, I vote we get on with the grub,” said Dick greedily.  “The insects won’t kill us.”

“No, but a marquee would certainly be more comfortable,” said Shin Shira.  “Come into the meadow just over there, and I’ll see if I can provide one.”

Leaving Lionel to guard our feast, the rest of us all trailed after him, over the fence into the meadow, which was carpeted with soft long grass.

“The only thing is, I can’t exactly remember what a marquee is like,” he said.  “Think, my dear boy, what the one was like which you had in your mind.”

“Why, it had four poles, one at each corner,” said Fidge, “and some iron things connecting them at the top, and it was covered all over and round the sides with some stripey stuff.  Then there were ropes and things, and pegs driven into the ground to tie the poles to, and a trestle table and two long forms each side.  That’s all.  Oh, yes, and Piggott & Son, Tentmakers, was written in big letters on the stripey stuff.”