Free Half Magic by Edward Eager

what to do with the charm next. Even wishing to do good deeds with it did not seem to be proof against the occurrence of that hot water in which the four children so often found themselves.
    "Of course it has to be just nowadays and in our own country after this," Mark said, "but still! What if we messed up the President and Congress next time, the way we did King Arthur? We could cause a national emergency!"
    "I know!" said Jane. "We must proceed with Utter Caution. I've been thinking about it all night, and I'm going to make my next wish really serious. I decided the two things I want most in the world are no more wars and that I knew everything!"
    Katharine shook her head doubtfully.
    "That's
too
serious," she said. "That's kind of like interfering with God. That might be even worse than trying to change history."
    "Is there anything that's serious and fun at the same time?" Martha wondered.
    It didn't seem very likely that there was.
    Arid what with this problem, and the horrid thought that with each wish the charm's power was waning away, and that any day the next wasted wish might be its last, the four children decided to wait until tomorrow before getting on with the serious wishing.
    Maybe by tomorrow Jane would have an inspiration. It was her turn next.
    Meanwhile today they would have a good old-fashioned day out, the kind of day that had seemed the height of excitement to them, back in the time before the charm had crossed their path. They would put all their allowances together, go downtown on the street car and spend the day, have lunch and see a movie.
    To phone their mother and persuade her to tell Miss Bick to let them go was a mere matter of five minutes' wheedling.
    Miss Bick made her usual remarks of gloomy foreboding, but the children turned deaf ears, and assembled in Katharine and Martha's room.
    "Shall we take it with us or leave it?" Katharine wanted to know.
    No one needed to be told what "it" was.
    "If we leave it Miss Bick'll be sure to find it," Mark pointed out, "no matter how carefully concealed."
    "Think if she made a wish and got half of it!" cried Martha. "What do you suppose it would be?"
    "I'd rather not," said Jane. "Some depths are better left unplumbed."
    So Jane brought the charm along, wrapped in a special package of old Christmas paper, in her handbag. All the children tied strings around the little finger of each hand, to remind them not to wish for anything, no matter what happened. Then they emerged, and stood waiting at the corner, where they had so often beguiled the summer days by putting pieces of watermelon on the car tracks and waiting for them to squish.
    The ride downtown on the street car was uneventful—only the usual trouble between the people who wanted the windows left closed, and the four children, who wanted them open.
    Downtown, the children looked in shop windows for a while, then entered that lovely place, the five-and-ten. They bought and ate some saltwater taffy, listened to a young lady play "I Wish I Could Shimmy Like My Sister Kate" on the piano, and bought and ate some parched corn.
    It was then time for lunch.
    The four children always lunched at the best soda fountain in town. Today Jane ordered a banana split with chocolate ice cream and raspberry sauce, and Katharine enjoyed a Moonbeam Sundae, thick with pineapple syrup and three kinds of sherbet. Martha always had the same thing, a soda she'd invented, marshmallow with vanilla ice cream, which made the others gag.
    There were two things listed on the menu which had intrigued Mark for years. One was called celery soda and the other was called malt marrow, and Mark wondered very much what they could be. Each time he came he promised himself he'd order them next time, but next time his courage always failed. Today he thought of it, thought better of it, and had a double hot fudge dope.
    After lunch it was time to choose what movie to see.
    The children did this by first making a tour of all the movie