How to make a magical cup of tea – Part Two

It was a bright, breezy summer day and little Clara; a chirpy, rosy cheeked and curly haired, 5 year old girl was lying on her lawn looking up at the funny shaped clouds drifting through the sky above;clouds shaped like desert islands with palm trees and like elephants and enormous teapots, when all of a sudden, she saw a cloud that looked remarkably like a witch flying on a broomstick and then;rubbing her eyes and blinking just to make sure she wasn’t day dreaming; she thought to herself,“It doesn’t just look like a witch; it really is a witch!”.

And then, to the little girls further astonishment, the witch turned the end of her broom handle towards her and proceeded to swoop down and land on the lawn right next to her.

Startled, Clara got quickly to her feet and backed away towards the trunk of a juniper tree which grew in the corner of her garden.

“Y-you’re a w-witch”, said Clara, frightened, pointing one of her little fingers towards the old woman in the shiny green star covered robes and conical, wide brimmed green hat who was now dismounting her broom.

“That’s right and I’m in a bit of a hurry”, said the witch, “So if you’ll just come along with me little girl, we can get all this finished and have you back in time for supper”.

“Come with you?”, said the little girl, shaking her head, “No, thankyou. Witches are wicked and evil”.

Madame Wu rolled her eyes and sighed, “Not all witches”, she said, “Some of us are just rather bad tempered; especially when little girls are being uncooperative”.

Then, taking off her tall pointy hat and reaching inside it, the witch pulled out a pretty looking china doll in a blue, frilly dress and held it out to Clara, “I know what little girls like. Little girls like dolls, right?”.

Looking at the doll clutched in the witches bony fingers, Clara saw it then turn its face towards her and, blinking its tiny, doll eyes, say “Wouldn’t you like to play with me, little girl. I betcha we could have lots of fun”.

But Clara just shook her head, looking even more afraid and backing further away.

“Hmmph!”, grumbled the witch, slinging the talking doll over her shoulder and reaching into her hat again; this time pulling out a large jar of sweets.

“How about sweets? You like sweets don’t you?”, asked Madame Wu offering Clara the jar, “These ones are magic. Suck on an orange flavoured one and it makes your hair turn orange; suck on a lime one and your hair turns green and the strawberry ones make your hair go bright pink”.

But, again, Clara just shook her head from side to side, “My mother told me never to accept sweets from strangers; even magic ones”, she said.

Now the witch hurled the jar over her shoulder which, as it fell, scattered all of its magical sweets over the lawn, and continued to rummage deep within her hat until, smiling, she pulled out a golden coloured puppy Labrador with floppy ears and big, sad eyes the colour of honey.

At first, Clara was wary of this too but then the Puppy had a great big yawn and it was so cute that the little girl couldn’t resist reaching out and petting it which it responded to by licking her upon the nose.

“Ahhh!”, said Madame Wu softly, smiling, “I think he really likes you and he’s all yours but only if you come and help me get my hands on some Dragon root”.

Clara took the puppy into her arms and tickled one of its floppy ears, “Okay”, she said, “I’ll help you”.

“Good”, replied the witch, lifting Clara and the puppy up and sitting them both upon the back of her levitating magic broom before climbing onto it herself and commanding the broom, “Away broom! To Moonlight Mountain, where the silver Nightingale sings and the laughing Lullaby river flows and in the fireblossom forest, the elusive Dragon root grows”.

Then, suddenly, before she knew it, Clara was up in the bright blue sky, her wiggly toes brushing against the soft, fluffy white clouds as the broom sped eastwards through the air.

“Now, don’t ask me why”, said Madame Wu, looking over her shoulder at her passenger, “But Dragon root is a very shy sort of plant that hides itself by turning completely invisible. It won’t show itself to old witches like me. About the only thing it will show itself to is little children and only good little children. That’s why I need you to trick the darned plant into revealing itself; then I’ll sneak up behind and grab it”.

Clara didn’t know if she much liked the idea of playing such a cruel trick on something; even a strange magical plant but she was so fond of her new puppy that was now snoozing with its golden
head upon her shoulder, that she didn’t want to upset the Witch in case she took him away.

And, just then, across a thick, wooly carpet of clouds, Clara saw the peak of a mountain covered in sparkling, silver heather and the Witch said, “Moonlight Mountain, dead ahead”.