More Wishing-Chair Stories

  “Well, Mollie was the sharpest!” laughed Chinky.

  “It was she who noticed the draught from the chest. Good old Mollie!”

  Topsy-Turvy Land

  ONCE the wishing-chair played a very silly trick on Mollie. The children were cross about it for a long time, and so was Chinky the pixie.

  The chair had grown its wings and the children sat on the seat as usual with Chinky on the back.

  “Where shall we go?” asked Peter.

  “Let's go to Topsy-Turvy Land,” said Chinky with a laugh. “It's a funny place to see—everything wrong, you know! It will give us a good laugh!”

  “Yes, let's go there!” said Peter, pleased. “It would be fun.”

  “To Topsy-Turvy Land, chair!” commanded Chinky. The chair rose up in the air and flew off at once. It flapped its wings fast, and very soon the children had flown right over the spires of Fairyland and were gazing down on a strange-looking land.

  The chair flew downwards. It came to rest in a village, and the children and Chinky jumped off. They stared in surprise at the people there.

  Nobody seemed to know how to dress properly! Coats were on back to front, and even upside down. One little man had his trousers on his arms! He wore his legs through the sleeves of his coat. The children began to giggle, and the little man looked at them in surprise.

  “Have you had bad news?” he asked.

  “Of course not,” said Peter. “We shouldn't laugh if we had!”

  “You would if you lived in Topsy-Turvy Land,” grinned Chinky. “Look at this woman coming along, crying into her handkerchief. Ask her what's the matter.”

  “What is the matter?” asked Mollie. The woman mopped her streaming eyes and said, “Oh, I've just found my purse, which I lost, and I'm so glad.”

  “There you are!” said Chinky. “They cry when they're glad and smile when they're sad!”

  “Look at that man over there!” said Mollie suddenly. “He's getting into his house by the window instead of through the door; and do look! his door has lace curtains hung over it. Does he think it's a window?”

  “I expect so,” said Chinky, with a grin. “Do you see that little boy over there with gloves on his feet and shoes on his hands? I must say I wouldn't like to live in Topsy-Turvy Land!”

  The children didn't want to live there either—but it really was fun to see all the curious things around them. They saw children trying to read a book backwards. They watched a cat crunching up a bone and a dog lapping milk, so it seemed as if even the animals were topsy-turvy too!

  Suddenly a policeman came round the corner, and, as soon as he saw the children and Chinky with their chair, he bustled up to them in a hurry, taking out a notebook as large as an atlas as he did so.

  “Where is your licence to keep a chair?” he asked sternly. He took out a rubber and prepared to write with it.

  “You can't write with a rubber!” said Mollie.

  “I shall write with whatever I please!” said the policeman. “Yes, and I shall rub out with my pencil if I want to. Now, then, where's your licence?”

  “You don't need to have a licence for a chair,” said Chinky, impatiently. “Don't be silly. It isn't a motorcar.”

  “Well, it's got wings, so it must be an aeroplane chair,” said the policeman, tapping with his rubber on his enormous notebook. “You have to have a licence for that in this country.”

  “We haven't a licence and we're not going to get one,” said Peter, and he pushed the policeman's notebook away, for it was sticking into him. The policeman was furious. He glared at Chinky. He glared at Peter. He glared at Mollie—and then he glared at the chair. The chair seemed to feel uncomfortable. It hopped about on the pavement and tried to edge away from the policeman.

  “I shall take your chair to prison,” said the policeman, and he made a grab at it. The chair hopped away—and then hopped back unexpectedly and trod hard on one of the policeman's feet. Then off it went again. Chinky ran after it.

  “Hie, come back, chair!” he yelled. “We can't have you going off like this. Don't be afraid. We won't let the policeman get you! Come on, Mollie and Peter—jump into the chair quickly, and we'll fly off.”

  Peter ran after the chair—but the policeman caught hold of Mollie's arm. Chinky and Peter jumped into the chair before they saw what was happening to Mollie—and, dear me, before they could get off it again, the chair spread its red wings and rose up into the air!

  “Peter! Chinky! Don't leave me here!” shouted Mollie, trying to wriggle away from the policeman.

  “Chair, fly down again!” commanded Chinky.

  But, do you know, the wishing-chair was so scared of being put into prison that it wouldn't do as it was told! It flew on, straight up into the air with Peter and Chinky, and left poor Mollie behind. Nothing Chinky could say would make that disobedient chair go down again to fetch Mollie. It flew on and on and was soon out of sight.

  Mollie was terribly upset. She began to cry, and the policeman stared at her. “What is amusing you?” he asked. “What are you glad about?”

  “I'm not amused or glad!” said Mollie. “I'm not like you silly topsy-turvy people, crying when I'm glad, and laughing when I'm sad. I don't belong to this horrid, stupid country at all!”

  “Dear me, I didn't know that,” said the policeman, putting away his notebook. “Why didn't you say so before?”

  “You never asked me,” said Mollie, half angry, half frightened. “My friend, the pixie who was here just now, will probably tell the pixie King how you kept me here, and he will be very angry indeed.”

  “Oh, you must go home at once,” said the policeman, who was now shaking like a jelly with fright. “You shall catch a bus home. I will pay your fare myself. I will show you where the bus is.”

  He took Mollie to a stopping-place—but as the buses all went straight on, and passengers had to jump on and off whilst it was going, Mollie thought it was silly to call it a stopping-place! It was a comical-looking bus, too, for although the driver drove it by a wheel, he had a whip by his side and cracked it loudly whenever the bus seemed to slow down, just as if it were a horse!

  The policeman put Mollie on the bus as it came past the stopping-place and threw some money at the conductor. He picked it up and threw it back. Mollie thought that the topsy-turvy people were the maddest she had ever seen.

  She sat down on a seat. “Standing room only in this bus,” said the conductor. “Give me your ticket, please.”

  “Well, you've got to give me one,” said Mollie. “And what do you mean by saying 'standing room only?' There are heaps of seats.”

  She sat down and the conductor glared at her. “The seats will be worn out if people keep sitting on them,” he said. “And where's your ticket, please?”

  “I'll show it to you when you give me one,” said Mollie, impatiently. “Give me a ticket for home. I live in Hilltown.”

  “Then you're going the wrong way,” said the conductor. “But as a matter of fact no bus goes to Hilltown. So you can stay in my bus if you like. One is as good as another.”

  Mollie jumped up in a rage. She leapt out of the bus and began to walk back to where she had started from. What a silly place Topsy-Turvy Land was. She would never get home from here!

  Just as she got back to the street from which the bus had started, Mollie saw Chinky! How pleased she was. She shouted to him and waved. “Chinky! Chinky! Here I am!”

  Chinky saw her and grinned. He came over to her and gave her a hug.

  “Sorry to have left you like that, Mollie,” he said. “The wishing-chair did behave badly. I've left it at home in the corner! It is very much ashamed of itself.”

  “Well, if you left the chair at home how did you come here?” asked Mollie in astonishment.

  “I borrowed a couple of Farmer Straw's geese,” grinned Chinky. “Look! There they are, over there. There's one for you to fly back on and one for me. Come on, or Farmer Straw will miss his fat old geese.”

  ?
??Chinky, quick! There's that policeman again!” cried Mollie suddenly. “Oh—and he's going to the geese—and getting his big notebook out—I'm sure he's going to ask them for a licence or something! Let's get them, quick!”

  Chinky and Mollie raced to where the two geese were staring in great astonishment at the policeman, who was looking all around them, trying, it seemed, to find their number-plates! Mollie jumped on to the back of one and Chinky on to the other.

  “Hie!” cried the policeman, “have these geese got numbers and lamps?”

  “I'll go and ask the farmer they belong to!” laughed Chinky. The geese rose up into the air and the wind they made with their big wings blew off the policeman's helmet.

  “I'll take your names, I'll take your names!” he yelled in a temper.

  He scribbled furiously in his notebook—and Mollie laughed so much that she nearly fell off her goose.

  “He doesn't know our names—and he's trying to write with his rubber!” she giggled. “Oh dear! What a topsy-turvy creature!”

  Peter was delighted to see Chinky and Mollie again. The two geese took them to the playroom door, cackled goodbye to Chinky, and flew off down to the farm.

  The wishing-chair stood in the corner. Its wings had disappeared. It looked very forlorn indeed. It knew it was in disgrace.

  Chinky turned it round the right way again. “We'll forgive you if you'll behave yourself next time!” he said.

  The chair creaked loudly. “It's sorry now!” grinned Chinky. “Come on—what about a game of ludo before you have to go in?”

  The Chair Runs Away Again

  ONE afternoon Mollie, Peter, and Chinky were in the playroom together, playing at Kings and Queens. They each took it in turn to be a King or a Queen, and they wore the red rug for a cloak, and a cardboard crown covered with gold paper. The wishing-chair was the throne.

  It was Peter’s turn to be King. He put on the crown and wound the red rug round his shoulders for a cloak. He did feel grand. He sat down in the wishing-chair and arranged the cloak round him, so that it fell all round the chair and on to the floor too, just like a real king’s cloak.

  Then Mollie and Chinky had to curtsy and bow to him, and ask for his commands. He could tell them to do anything he liked.

  “Your Majesty, what would you have me do today?” asked Mollie, curtsying low.

  “I would have you go and pick me six dandelions, six daisies, and six buttercups,” said Peter, grandly, waving his hand. Mollie curtsied again and walked out backwards, nearly falling over a stool as she did so.

  Then Chinky asked Peter what he was to do for him. “Your Majesty, what would you have me do?” he said, bowing low.

  “I would have you go to the cupboard and get me a green sweet out of the bottle there,” said Peter commandingly. Chinky went to the cupboard. He couldn’t see the bottle at first. He moved the tins about and hunted for it. He didn’t see what was happening behind him!

  Peter didn’t see either. But what was happening was that the wishing-chair was growing its wings— under the red rug that was all around its legs! Peter sat in the chair, waiting impatiently for his commands to be obeyed—and the chair flapped its red wings under the rug and wondered why it could not flap them as easily as usual!

  Mollie was in the garden gathering the flowers that Peter had ordered. Chinky was still hunting for the bottle of sweets. The wishing-chair flapped its wings harder than ever—it suddenly rose into the air, and flew swiftly out of the door before Peter could jump out, and before Chinky could catch hold of it. It was gone!

  “Hie, Mollie, Mollie!” yelled Chinky in alarm. “The wishing-chair’s gone—and Peter’s gone with it!”

  Mollie came tearing into the playroom. “I saw it!” she panted. “Oh, why didn’t Peter or you see that its wings had grown? Now, it’s gone off with Peter, and we don’t know where!”

  “We didn’t see its wings growing because the red rug hid its legs!” said Chinky. “It must have grown them under the rug and flown off before any of us guessed!”

  “Well, what shall we do?” asked Mollie. “What will happen to Peter?”

  “It depends where he’s gone,” said Chinky. “Did you see which way the chair went?”

  “Towards the west,” said Mollie. “Peter was yelling and shouting like anything—but he couldn’t stop the chair.”

  “Well, we’d better go on a journey of our own,” said Chinky. “I’ll catch Farmer Straw’s two geese. They won’t like it much—but it can’t be helped. We must go after Peter and the chair somehow!”

  He ran off down to the farm. Presently Mollie heard the noise of flapping wings, and down from the sky came Chinky, riding on the back of one of the geese, and leading the other by a piece of thick string. The geese hissed angrily as they came to the ground.

  “They are most annoyed about it,” said Chinky to Mollie. “They only came when I promised them that I wouldn’t let Farmer Straw take them to market next week.”

  “Ss-ss-ss-ss!” hissed the big geese, and one tried to peck at Mollie’s fat legs. Chinky smacked it.

  “Behave yourself!” he said. “If you peck Mollie I’ll change your beak into a trumpet, and then you’ll only be able to toot, not cackle or hiss!”

  Mollie laughed. “You do say some funny things, Chinky,” she said. She got on to the goose’s back. Up in the air it went, flapping its enormous white wings.

  “We’ll go to the cloud castle first of all,” said Chinky. “The fairies there may have seen Peter going by and can tell us where they think the chair might have been going.”

  So they flew to an enormous white cloud that towered up into the sky. As they drew near it Mollie could see that it had turrets, and was really a cloud castle. She thought it was the loveliest thing she had ever seen.

  There was a great gateway in the cloud castle. The geese flew through it and landed in a misty courtyard. Mollie was just going to get off when Chinky shouted to her.

  “Don’t get off, Mollie—you haven’t got cloud-shoes on and you’d fall right through to the earth below!”

  Mollie stayed on her goose. Small fairies dressed in all the colours of the rainbow came running into the courtyard, chattering in delight to see Mollie and Chinky. They wore cloud-shoes, rather like big flat snow-shoes, and with these they were able to step safely on the cloud that made their castle.

  “Come in and have some lemonade!” cried the little folk. But Chinky shook his head.

  “We are looking for a boy in a flying chair,” he said. “Have you see him?”

  “Yes!” cried the fairies, crowding round the geese, who cackled and hissed at them. “He passed about fifteen minutes ago. The chair had red wings and was flying strongly towards the west. Hurry and you may catch it up!”

  “Thank you!” cried Chinky. He shook the string reins of his goose, and he and Mollie flew up into the air once more, and went steadily westwards.

  “There is a gnome who lives in a tall tower some miles westwards,” said Chinky. “It is so tall that it sticks out above the clouds. We will make for there, and see if he has seen anything of Peter and the wishing-chair.”

  The geese flew on, cackling to one another. They were still in a bad temper. Chinky kept a look out for the tall tower—but Mollie saw it first. It looked very strange. It was sticking right through a big black cloud, and, as it was made of bright silver, it shone brilliantly.

  There was a small window at the top. It was open. The geese flew down to the window-sill and Chinky stuck his head inside.

  “Hie, gnome of the tower! Are you in?”

  “Yes!” yelled a voice. “If that is the baker leave me a brown loaf, please.”

  “It isn’t the baker!” shouted Chinky. “Come on up here!”

  “Well, if it’s the butcher, leave me a pound of sausages!” yelled the voice.

  “It isn’t the butcher!” shouted back Chinky, getting cross. “And it isn’t the milkman or the grocer or the newspaper boy or the fishmonger either!??
?

  “And it isn’t the postman!” cried Mollie. “It’s Chinky and Mollie!”

  The gnome was surprised. He climbed up the many steps of his tower till he came to the top. Then he put his head out of the window and gaped in amazement to see Mollie and Chinky on their two geese.

  “Hallo!” he said. “Where do you come from?”

  “Never mind that,” said Chinky. “We’ve come to ask you if you’ve seen a boy on a flying chair.”

  “Yes,” said the gnome at once. “He passed about twenty minutes ago. I thought he was a king or something because he wore a golden crown. He was going towards the land of the Scally-Wags.”

  “Oh my!” said Chinky in dismay. “Are you sure?”

  “Of course I am,” said the gnome, nodding his big head. “I thought he was the baker coming at first.”

  “You think every one’s the baker!” said Chinky, and he jerked the reins of his goose. “Come on, goose! To the land of the Scally-Wags.”

  The geese flew off. The gnome climbed out on the window-sill and began to polish his silver tower with a big check duster.

  “Does he keep that tower polished himself?” said Mollie in surprise. “Goodness, it must keep him busy all the week!”

  “It does,” said Chinky, grinning. “Because as soon as he’s done it all and reached the top, the bottom is dirty again and he has to begin all over again!”

  “Chinky, you didn’t sound very pleased when you knew that Peter and the chair had gone to the Land of the Scally-Wags,” said Mollie. “Why weren’t you?”

  “Well, the Scally-Wags are horrid people,” said Chinky. “You see, to that land go all the bad folk of Fairyland, Goblin-Land, Brownie-Town, Pixie-Land, Gnome-Country, and the rest. They call themselves Scally-Wags, and they are just as horrid as they sound. If Peter goes there he will be treated like a Scally-Wag, and expected to steal and tell fibs and behave very badly. And if he doesn’t, they will say he is a spy and lock him up.”

  “Oh, Chinky, I do think that’s horrid,” said Mollie in dismay. “Peter will hate being in a land like that.”