A long train of wagons was constructed of chairs put on their sides and one or two small old spider tables with their spindle legs in the air.

Turly dressed himself in a few of Granny's best oriental embroideries, and armed himself with the brass fire-irons.
"It's war, you know!" he explained to Terry.

"Play Malbrook again.

But I'm not going to be killed, I can tell you.

I'd just like to see anybody trying to do it." "Oh, Turly, you must be killed, because you have no helmet! Oh, I know where I can get you one!" Terry sprang up and flew to where a small palm was standing, its garden-pot enclosed in one made of Benares brass.