There were cowslips all over the field, but they were thicker at the
lower end, which was damp. The great heat of the day was over. The sun
shone still, but it shone low down and made such splendid shadows that
we all walked about with grey giants at our feet; and it made the
bright green of the grass, and the cowslips down below, and the top of
the hedge, and Sandy's hair, and everything in the sun and the mist
behind the elder bush which was out of the sun, so yellow--so very
yellow--that just for a minute I really believed about Sandy's
godmother, and thought it was a story come true, and that everything
was turning into gold.
But it was only for a minute; of course I know that fairy tales are
not true. But it was a lovely field, and when we had put our hands to
our eyes and had a good look at it, I said to Sandy, "I beg your
pardon, Sandy, for telling you not to talk with your mouth full. It is
the best field I ever heard of."
"Sit down," said Sandy, doing the honours; and we all sat down under
the hedge.
"There are violets just behind us," he continued. "Can't you smell
them? But whatever you do, don't tell anybody of those, or we shan't
keep our field to ourselves for a day.
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