Robin Hood. "Like nothing ever built by human hands!"
Ann and Eliza and Roger and Jack looked. It wasn't like a Charles Addams drawing at all. Except that it was about a hundred times normal size, what they saw was a perfectly ordinary house, such as you might see in any perfectly ordinary suburb today, with white paint and green blinds and a neat lawn and flowerbeds.
Maid Marian averted her eyes. "How dreadful!" she shuddered. "Robin, can we leave these innocent children to go in there alone?"
"There's nothing wrong," said Jack. "It's just a house only it's too big."
"It's just like any old house back home," said Eliza, disappointed. "I think it's boring."
"There's no accounting for tastes," said Maid Marian.
Ann didn't say anything. There was something familiar about the house, but she couldn't think what it was.
"And now," said Robin Hood, "this is where you must leave us. We shall be waiting here if there be any little thing we can do."
"Good luck," said Marian, kissing Ann.
"Tell old Wilfred chin up from me," said the Black Knight.
"Save my son," said Cedric the Saxon.
"We'll try," said Roger.
He and Eliza and Ann and Jack got down from their horses.
"But stay," said Robin Hood. "I was forgetting. Thou bearest no arms."
"Do we have to?" said Ann. "I'd rather not."
"I wouldn't," said Eliza, swaggering.
Robin Hood looked at them. Again there seemed to be a twinkle in his eye. "Methinks," he said, "that Jack at least should bear some weapon."
The Black Knight stepped forward, and in this moment he looked every inch King Richard the Lionhearted. He drew his sword from its sheath. "This blade," he said, "hath fought right valiantly against Saracens abroad and traitors at home. Take it, and may it do yet one more bright deed for Merrie England."
"Thanks a lot," said Jack.
And he and Roger and Eliza and Ann started walking across the lawn.
But as they drew nearer the house it kept looking bigger and bigger, and the four children felt smaller and smaller in the middle of the vast grassy expanse. There were no fierce cries from within and nothing pounced at them out of the front door. But they felt better when they gained the shelter of a hedge at the side of the house. And beyond the hedge they saw a cellar window.
The window was open what probably seemed only a crack to it, but to small Ann and Roger and Jack and Eliza it was a great yawning cavern. They slithered through the hedge, ran forward stealthily, crouched on the vast sill and looked into the room below.
What they expected to see was a grisly dungeon, with chains, and somebody grinding somebody else's bones to make his bread. That would have been unpleasant, but only to be expected. But that wasn't what they saw at all.
What they saw was a perfectly ordinary-looking rumpus room. If it hadn't been so big it might have looked rather jolly. If the people in it hadn't been so big they might have looked rather jolly, too.
They were a man (if you could call him that) and a woman (or at least a female) and a little girl (if you could describe as little a being that was at least four times as tall as Jack). Their cheeks were of a pink-and-white, china-like perfection, and their eyes were blue and staring, with long curling lashes, and their lips parted, showing pearly teeth.
And no matter what they said or did, they never stopped smiling. After a while, Ann wished they wouldn't.
There was something else peculiar about the room, too. There didn't seem to be enough furniture to go round. And Ann noticed that the train of the female giant's red velvet gown seemed to have been cut away, leaving a jagged edge. And the man giant's tail-coat didn't have any tails. And the little girl giant had blonde corkscrew curls on one side of her face, but on the other side she didn't have any. And suddenly Ann knew the secret of the Giant's Lair. She turned to Eliza to tell her.
"Shush," said Eliza. "Look." And she pointed.
The giant family was squatting down now, and
Ann and Eliza and Roger and Jack looked. It wasn't like a Charles Addams drawing at all. Except that it was about a hundred times normal size, what they saw was a perfectly ordinary house, such as you might see in any perfectly ordinary suburb today, with white paint and green blinds and a neat lawn and flowerbeds.
Maid Marian averted her eyes. "How dreadful!" she shuddered. "Robin, can we leave these innocent children to go in there alone?"
"There's nothing wrong," said Jack. "It's just a house only it's too big."
"It's just like any old house back home," said Eliza, disappointed. "I think it's boring."
"There's no accounting for tastes," said Maid Marian.
Ann didn't say anything. There was something familiar about the house, but she couldn't think what it was.
"And now," said Robin Hood, "this is where you must leave us. We shall be waiting here if there be any little thing we can do."
"Good luck," said Marian, kissing Ann.
"Tell old Wilfred chin up from me," said the Black Knight.
"Save my son," said Cedric the Saxon.
"We'll try," said Roger.
He and Eliza and Ann and Jack got down from their horses.
"But stay," said Robin Hood. "I was forgetting. Thou bearest no arms."
"Do we have to?" said Ann. "I'd rather not."
"I wouldn't," said Eliza, swaggering.
Robin Hood looked at them. Again there seemed to be a twinkle in his eye. "Methinks," he said, "that Jack at least should bear some weapon."
The Black Knight stepped forward, and in this moment he looked every inch King Richard the Lionhearted. He drew his sword from its sheath. "This blade," he said, "hath fought right valiantly against Saracens abroad and traitors at home. Take it, and may it do yet one more bright deed for Merrie England."
"Thanks a lot," said Jack.
And he and Roger and Eliza and Ann started walking across the lawn.
But as they drew nearer the house it kept looking bigger and bigger, and the four children felt smaller and smaller in the middle of the vast grassy expanse. There were no fierce cries from within and nothing pounced at them out of the front door. But they felt better when they gained the shelter of a hedge at the side of the house. And beyond the hedge they saw a cellar window.
The window was open what probably seemed only a crack to it, but to small Ann and Roger and Jack and Eliza it was a great yawning cavern. They slithered through the hedge, ran forward stealthily, crouched on the vast sill and looked into the room below.
What they expected to see was a grisly dungeon, with chains, and somebody grinding somebody else's bones to make his bread. That would have been unpleasant, but only to be expected. But that wasn't what they saw at all.
What they saw was a perfectly ordinary-looking rumpus room. If it hadn't been so big it might have looked rather jolly. If the people in it hadn't been so big they might have looked rather jolly, too.
They were a man (if you could call him that) and a woman (or at least a female) and a little girl (if you could describe as little a being that was at least four times as tall as Jack). Their cheeks were of a pink-and-white, china-like perfection, and their eyes were blue and staring, with long curling lashes, and their lips parted, showing pearly teeth.
And no matter what they said or did, they never stopped smiling. After a while, Ann wished they wouldn't.
There was something else peculiar about the room, too. There didn't seem to be enough furniture to go round. And Ann noticed that the train of the female giant's red velvet gown seemed to have been cut away, leaving a jagged edge. And the man giant's tail-coat didn't have any tails. And the little girl giant had blonde corkscrew curls on one side of her face, but on the other side she didn't have any. And suddenly Ann knew the secret of the Giant's Lair. She turned to Eliza to tell her.
"Shush," said Eliza. "Look." And she pointed.
The giant family was squatting down now, and
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