Magic! Magic! Come and help!" He said it a great many times--not a thousand times but quite a goodly number.

Mary listened entranced.

She felt as if it were at once queer and beautiful and she wanted him to go on and on.

Ben Weatherstaff began to feel soothed into a sort of dream which was quite agreeable.
The humming of the bees in the blossoms mingled with the chanting voice and drowsily melted into a doze.

Dickon sat cross-legged with his rabbit asleep on his arm and a hand resting on the lamb's back.