by. It must have been lovely. . . . I b'lieve I could make one. Only if you fall out you mustn't fall on the scythe—or you'll get into trouble. . . . Your old go-cart and a couple of carving-knives would do."
They toyed with the idea until the Vice became ecstatic, and the President knew the double joy of creation and applause.
It was easier than had been expected, to secure two knives, poke them through the wheels and fasten them with string to the axle. The protruding blades were most realistic, almost too much so when the Vice scratched a woady leg on the point of one, and the President cut her finger. However, there cannot be an Invasion of Britain without the effusion of blood. You couldn't expect it. Besides a good layer of thickish cloggy woad soon stops the bleeding.
The rocking-horse, Amir, having been harnessed to the chariot and a bear-skin rug thrown over it, no one with the imagination of a flea and the soul of a frog could have failed to perceive in it the very last word in scythe-wheeled chariots. Surely the most ancient of the honour-
