"How can we tell what's at the bottom of the lake?" said Aunt Emma,
smiling. "But no, I don't think the king is hidden in this lake. He
didn't live near here."
"What was his name?" asked Milly.
"His name was King Arthur. But now, children, hurry; there is father
putting all the baskets into the boat. We must get home as quick as we
can."
They rowed home very quickly, except just for a little time when Milly
rowed, and they did not go quite so fast as if father were rowing alone.
It was quite evening now on the lake, and there were great shadows from
the mountains lying across the water. Somehow the children felt much
quieter now than when they started in the afternoon. Milly had curled
herself up inside mother's arm, and was thinking a great deal about King
Arthur and the fairy ship, while Olly was quite taken up with watching
the oars as they dipped in and out of the water, and occasionally asking
his father when he should be big enough to row quite by himself. It
seemed a very little time after all before they were stepping out of the
boat at Aunt Emma's boathouse, and the picnic and the row were both
over.
"Good-bye, dear lake," said Milly, turning with her hands full of
water-lilies to look back before they went up to the house. "Good-night,
mountains; good-night, Birdsnest Point.
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