Colin kept lifting his thin chest to draw it in, and his big eyes looked as if it were they which were listening--listening, instead of his ears.
"There are so many sounds of singing and humming and calling out," he said.

"What is that scent the puffs of wind bring ?" "It's gorse on th' moor that's openin' out," answered Dickon.

"Eh! th' bees are at it wonderful today." Not a human creature was to be caught sight of in the paths they took.
In fact every gardener or gardener's lad had been witched away.

But they wound in and out among the shrubbery and out and round the fountain beds, following their carefully planned route for the mere mysterious pleasure of it.

But when at last they turned into the Long Walk by the ivied walls the excited sense of an approaching thrill made them, for some curious reason they could not have explained, begin to speak in whispers.
"This is it," breathed Mary.