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Page 4
'Have you a knife on you?' he said at last.
Dan handed over his big one-bladed outdoor knife, and Puck began to
carve out a piece of turf from the centre of the Ring.
'What's that for--Magic?' said Una, as he pressed up the square of
chocolate loam that cut like so much cheese.
'One of my little magics,' he answered, and cut another. 'You see, I
can't let you into the Hills because the People of the Hills have gone;
but if you care to take seizin from me, I may be able to show you
something out of the common here on Human Earth. You certainly deserve
it.'
'What's taking seizin?' said Dan, cautiously.
'It's an old custom the people had when they bought and sold land. They
used to cut out a clod and hand it over to the buyer, and you weren't
lawfully seized of your land--it didn't really belong to you--till the
other fellow had actually given you a piece of it--like this.' He held
out the turves.
'But it's our own meadow,' said Dan, drawing back. 'Are you going to
magic it away?'
Puck laughed. 'I know it's your meadow, but there's a great deal more in
it than you or your father ever guessed. Try!'
He turned his eyes on Una.
'I'll do it,' she said. Dan followed her example at once.
'Now are you two lawfully seized and possessed of all Old England,'
began Puck, in a sing-song voice. 'By right of Oak, Ash, and Thorn are
you free to come and go and look and know where I shall show or best you
please. You shall see What you shall see and you shall hear What you
shall hear, though It shall have happened three thousand year; and you
shall know neither Doubt nor Fear. Fast! Hold fast all I give you.'
The children shut their eyes, but nothing happened.
'Well?' said Una, disappointedly opening them. 'I thought there would be
dragons.'
'"Though It shall have happened three thousand year,"' said Puck, and
counted on his fingers. 'No; I'm afraid there were no dragons three
thousand years ago.'
'But there hasn't happened anything at all,' said Dan.
'Wait awhile,' said Puck. 'You don't grow an oak in a year--and Old
England's older than twenty oaks. Let's sit down again and think. _I_
can do that for a century at a time.'
'Ah, but you're a fairy,' said Dan.
'Have you ever heard me say that word yet?' said Puck quickly.
'No. You talk about "the People of the Hills", but you never say
"fairies",' said Una. 'I was wondering at that. Don't you like it?'
'How would you like to be called "mortal" or "human being" all the
time?' said Puck; 'or "son of Adam" or "daughter of Eve"?'
'I shouldn't like it at all,' said Dan. 'That's how the Djinns and
Afrits talk in the _Arabian Nights_.'
'And that's how _I_ feel about saying--that word that I don't say.
Besides, what you call them are made-up things the People of the Hills
have never heard of--little buzzflies with butterfly wings and gauze
petticoats, and shiny stars in their hair, and a wand like a
schoolteacher's cane for punishing bad boys and rewarding good ones. _I_
know 'em!'
'We don't mean that sort,' said Dan. 'We hate 'em too.'
'Exactly,' said Puck. 'Can you wonder that the People of the Hills don't
care to be confused with that painty-winged, wand-waving,
sugar-and-shake-your-head set of impostors? Butterfly wings, indeed!
I've seen Sir Huon and a troop of his people setting off from Tintagel
Castle for Hy-Brasil in the teeth of a sou'-westerly gale, with the
spray flying all over the Castle, and the Horses of the Hills wild with
fright. Out they'd go in a lull, screaming like gulls, and back they'd
be driven five good miles inland before they could come head to wind
again. Butterfly-wings! It was Magic--Magic as black as Merlin could
make it, and the whole sea was green fire and white foam with singing
mermaids in it. And the Horses of the Hills picked their way from one
wave to another by the lightning flashes! _That_ was how it was in the
old days!'
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