But it's not quite true when you think of it.

You can't have it now, except from my ball." "Oh, yes, I can," cried Mona; "for there he comes himself." And there, to be sure, was the first blinding arc of the sun rising over the eastern hill.

Both of them forgot the kite, and turned to watch the great marvel of the heavens, throbbing and pulsing like a sea of flame.
When they turned again to the kite they could see the golden ball no longer.

Its work was over; it had told them the sun was coming, and now, when the sun was come, it was not wanted any more.

Willie began to draw in his string and roll it up on its stick, slowly pulling down to the earth the soaring sun-scout he had sent aloft for the news.