They would, at least, if they are as fond of nice dreams as I am, and don't have enough of them of their own.
He dreamed that he was running about in the twilight in the old garden.
He thought he was waiting for North Wind, but she did not come.

So he would run down to the back gate, and see if she were there.

He ran and ran.

It was a good long garden out of his dream, but in his dream it had grown so long and spread out so wide that the gate he wanted was nowhere.

He ran and ran, but instead of coming to the gate found himself in a beautiful country, not like any country he had ever been in before.
There were no trees of any size; nothing bigger in fact than hawthorns, which were full of may-blossom.