A mouse was at that moment tasting the outside of the raspberry jam part of the tart (she had nibbled a sort of gulf, or bay, through the pastry edge) to see whether it was the sort of dinner she could ask her little mouse-husband to sit down to.

She had had a very good dinner herself.

It is an ill wind that blows nobody any good.
'We'll stop as soon as we see a nice place,' said Anthea.

'I've got threepence, and you boys have the fourpence each that your trams didn't cost the other day, so we can buy things to eat.

I expect the Phoenix can speak French.' The carpet was sailing along over rocks and rivers and trees and towns and farms and fields.