It was very bright, and made a horrid black smoke, which looked very magical.

But still nothing happened.

Then they got some clean tea-cloths from the dresser drawer in the kitchen, and waved them over the magic chalk-tracings, and sang 'The Hymn of the Moravian Nuns at Bethlehem', which is very impressive.

And still nothing happened.

So they waved more and more wildly, and Robert's tea-cloth caught the golden egg and whisked it off the mantelpiece, and it fell into the fender and rolled under the grate.
'Oh, crikey!' said more than one voice.
And every one instantly fell down flat on its front to look under the grate, and there lay the egg, glowing in a nest of hot ashes.
'It's not smashed, anyhow,' said Robert, and he put his hand under the grate and picked up the egg.