"Take your seat, Sara," said Pirlaps kindly, enjoying her delight and
astonishment.
Sara came to herself with a start. "Wh-where?" she asked. She was
anxious not to appear awkward, but she did not see any particular
place to sit.
"On the cake, dear, of course," said Pirlaps, who seemed never to tire
of smiling at her odd little questions.
Sara had never done this before, but she was willing to try; and she
was just about to climb upon the cake when another thought deterred
her.
"But the candles? Won't my dress catch?"
"Try and see," said Pirlaps; but Avrillia whispered in her ear, "They
aren't flames, dear: they're only colored perfumes."
So, reassured, Sara took her seat on the cake; and at once she saw
that it made a very nice sort of throne. The frosting was resilient,
but firm; and she now saw that the candles were arranged so that they
made a sort of semicircle about her. Just as Avrillia had said, she
could pass her hands across their wicks without being burned at all;
they only winked and breathed out sweet odors--each flame a different
color and scent. They were as tall as her head, as she sat among them;
and the one at her right ear was of isthagaria, while the one on the
left faintly suggested tinnulalia-flowers.
Before she had finished examining the candles, the Plynck flew down
with the first present.
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