"What's in that jar?" asked Bessie, who hadn't seen it before.

"Isn't it
pretty?"
"Let me see -what can it be?" wondered Jo, as he unscrewed the lid.
"Oh-I know. We saw a witch selling whizz-away ointment for
broomsticks in the Land of Spells-and I thought it would be such fun to
rub some on mother's broomstick and see it fly through the air. So we
bought some. Smell it-it's delicious."
Everyone smelt it. Moon-Face suddenly got tremendously excited. "I
say-" he began. "I say -oh, I say!"
"Well, say then!" said Jo. "What's the matter?'
"Oh, I SAY!" said Moon-Face, stammering all the more. "Listen! If
only we could get a broomstick-we could rub this pink ointment on it-
and fly away on it!"
"Moon-Face, that's a very good idea-if only we had a broomstick-but
we haven't!" said Jo. "Look at this room-a table and a bench-no sign of
a broomstick at all!"
"Well, I'll run down the stairs and see if I can possibly get a
broomstick," said Moon-Face, getting all excited. "I saw some standing
in a corner of that room we were in. I'll do my best, anyway!"
"Good old Moon-Face!" said everyone, as they watched the round-faced
little fellow scurry down the hundreds of steps. "If only he gets a
broomstick!"
Moon-Face hurried down and down. It did seem such a very long way.
At last he came to the bottom of the stairs. An enormous wooden door
was at the bottom, fast shut. Moon-Face tried to open it, but he
couldn't. So he banged on the door loudly.
A surprised voice called out: "Hie, there! What are you banging on the
door for? What do you want?"
"A broomstick!" said Moon-Face loudly.
"A broomstick!" said the voice, more astonished than ever. "Whatever
for?"
"To sweep up some crumbs!" said Moon-Face, quite untruthfully.
"A dust-pan and brush will do for that!" cried the voice, and the door
opened a crack. A dust-pan and brush shot in with a clatter and came to
rest by Moon-Face's feet. Then the door shut with a bang and was
bolted at the other side.
"A dust-pan and brush!" said Moon-Face in disgust. "Now, who can ride
away on those?" He banged on the door again.
"Now what's the matter?" yelled the voice angrily.
"These won't do," said Moon-Face. "I want a BROOMSTICK!"
"Well, go on wanting," said the voice. "You won't get one. I suppose
you think you'll fly away on one if I give it to you. I'm not quite so
silly as that. What do you suppose my master would say to me when he
came back if I'd given you one of his broomsticks to escape on?"
Moon-Face groaned. He knew it was no good asking again. He picked
up the dust-pan and brush and climbed the stairs slowly, suddenly
feeling very tired.
Everyone was waiting for him. "Did you get it, Moon-Face?" they cried.
But when they saw Moon-Face's gloomy face and the dust-pan and
brush in his hand, they were very sad.