Free More Wishing-Chair Stories by Enid Blyton Page B

to make more room. Ah—they were off!
    “Tell the chair where to go,” said Peter. “Or shall we just let it take us where it wants to?”
    “Chair, go to the rainbow!” suddenly cried a voice.
    And the chair, which was flying in the opposite direction, changed its course and flew towards the almost-faded rainbow. It had flown right out of the door and up into the air, the children and Chinky holding fast to it, all feeling very excited.
    “Who said that?” asked Peter. “Did you, Mollie? Or you, Chinky?”
    They both said no. All three gazed at one another, puzzled. Then who had said it? There was nobody on the chair but themselves. Whose voice had commanded the chair to go to the rainbow?
    “I expect it was that silly little brownie, calling from the ground,” said Peter at last. “He must have seen us flying off, and yelled out to the chair to go to the rainbow. Well—shall we go?”
    “Might as well,” said Chinky. “Go on, Chair—go to the rainbow!”
    And immediately a voice chimed in: “That's what I said! Go to the rainbow, Chair!”
    Who could it be? And where was the speaker? How very, very peculiar!

An Adventurous Night
    “THERE must be somebody invisible on the chair with us!” said Chinky. “Quick—feel about on the seat and on the arms and back. Feel everywhere—and catch hold of whoever it is.”
    Well, they all felt here and there, but not one of them could feel anybody. They heard a little giggle, but it was quite impossible to find whoever it was giggling.
    “Surely the chair itself can't have grown a voice—and a giggle,” said Peter at last.
    “Of course not. It wouldn't be so silly,” said Chinky. “Gracious—here we are at the rainbow already!”
    So they were. They landed right on the top of the shimmering bow. “It's like a coloured, curving bridge,” said Mollie, putting her foot down to it. “Oh, Peter—we can walk on it. I never, never thought of that.”
    She jumped down to the rainbow—and immediately she gave a scream.
    “Oh, it's slippery! I'm sliding down! Oh, Peter, help me!”
    Sure enough, poor Mollie had sat down with a bump, and was slithering down the curving rainbow at top speed. “Follow her, Chair, follow her!” yelled Peter.
    “No, don't!” shouted the strange voice, and the chair stopped at once. That made Peter angry. He began to yell at the top of his voice.
    “You do as I tell you, Chair. Follow Mollie, follow Mollie, follow Mollie, follow . . .”
    And because his voice was loud and he shouted without stopping, the chair couldn't hear the other little voice that called to it to stop. It slid down the rainbow headlong after Mollie, who was now nearly at the bottom. Chinky held on tightly, looking scared. Would the chair be able to stop at the bottom of the rainbow?
    It wouldn't have been able to stop, that was certain—but before it reached the bottom it spread its red wings and flew right off the rainbow, hovering in the air before it flew down to Mollie.
    “That was clever of it,” said Peter, with a sigh of relief. “Mollie, are you all right?”
    “I fell on a tuffet of grass, or I'd have had a dreadful bump,” said Mollie. “Let me get on to the chair again. I don't want it to fly off without me. Oh—what's this?”
    She pointed to something half-buried in the grass. It had a handle at one side and she gave it a tug. Something bright and shining flew out of it.
    “Mollie! It's the crock of gold!” shouted Peter, “The one that is hidden where the rainbow end touches. We've found it! All because you slid all the way down and landed by it with a bump. Let's pull it up.”
    He and Chinky jumped off the chair to go to Mollie. All three took hold of the handle of the crock and tugged. It came up out of the ground with a rush, and all three fell over.
    “There it is—and, my word, it's full of gold!” said Peter. He put his hand into the crock and ran the gold through his fingers. “Who would have thought we would be the first