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So she curled herself up on the lower of the two seats, with the rug all over her except her head. She was only to pull it right up when she heard any of them coming. But at one moment she thought she heard the handle of the door being turned, and then she thought she heard voices and footsteps coming out; and she had so many false alarms and grew so nervous that at last she snuggled right down under the rug and stayed there, and then she forgot to listen, and somehow, instead of being in the carriage she was in the giant’s oven, and oh, it was so hot there she felt she was being suffocated, when suddenly the oven door was opened, and such beautiful cool air rushed in, and—

“Why, what has the child wrapped herself up like this for?” exclaimed a voice; “she must be trying to cook herself, I think.”

“Perhaps she is afraid of getting a cold where her tooth came out,” said another voice, which was Prissy’s. Loveday roused herself, and sat up and stretched; she was very hot and tumbled, and rosy and she could not remember for a moment what had happened. Then out came a woman with a crying baby in her arms. Loveday recognised Mrs. Rouse, and wanted to be under the rug again.