I Am Not Really Much Interested In

Well, You Know What Grown-ups Are,' Said Dinah. 'they Don't Think The Same Way As We Do. I Expect When We Grow Up, We Shall Think Like Them - But Let's Hope We Remember What It Was Like To Think In The Way Children Do, And Understand The Boys And The Girls That Are Growing Up When We're Men And Women.

They Lay On Their Heathery Beds And Listened To All The Sounds Of The Night. They Heard The Little Grunt Of A Hedgehog Going By. They Saw The Flicker Of Bats Overhead. They Smelt The Drifting Scent Of Honeysuckle, And The Delicious Smell Of Wild Thyme Crushed Under Their Bodies. A Reed-warbler Sang A Beautiful Little Song In The Reeds Below, And Then Another Answered.

The Little Island Seemed To Float On The Dark Lake-waters. Trees Grew On It, And A Little Hill Rose In The Middle Of It. It Was A Mysterious Island, Lonely And Beautiful. All The Children Stood And Gazed At It, Loving It And Longing To Go To It. It Looked So Secret - Almost Magic.

I Don't Believe In Things Like That - Fairies Or Brownies Or Magic Or Anything. It's Old-fashioned.' 'well, We Must Be Jolly Old-fashioned Then,' Said Bessie. 'because We Not Only Believe In The Faraway Tree And Love Our Funny Friends There, But We Go To See Them Too - And We Visit The Lands At The Top Of The Tree As Well!

I Have Written, Probably, More Books For Children Than Any Other Writer, From Story-books To Plays, And Can Claim To Know More About Interesting Children Than Most.