King Leo and the Magic Book
Leo was building a tower of blocks when Nurse came in and told him he was going to be a King.
It was unexpected, but Leo took it well. He was that sort of boy.
The palace was very large and slightly draughty. The Prime Minister had an excellent hat and worried about almost everything. The crown was too big and kept slipping over Leo's ears.
But the best part of being a King, Leo discovered, was the library. And the best part of the library was one very large, very old book that lived behind a velvet curtain and had gold clasps with rubies in them.
"Do not read that book," said the Prime Minister.
Leo waited until the Prime Minister had gone, and read the book.
When he turned to the page with a bluebird, a bluebird flew out. It was bright blue and very beautiful, and it went straight to the garden and began to sing among the roses.
When he turned to the page with a hippogriff — a creature like a white horse with magnificent wings — the hippogriff stepped out, gentle as anything, and bent its head so that Leo could stroke its silky nose.
Then Leo found the page with the dragon.
He knew he should close the book. The Prime Minister had said so very clearly. But the dragon in the picture was so large and so extraordinarily red and green, with golden scales underneath, that he turned the page just to look more closely.
The dragon came out with a sound like the entire contents of a kitchen falling down stairs, and flew out of the window.
For three days the dragon sat on the hill and caused trouble. Nobody was eaten, fortunately, but several gardens were scorched, and one hat was definitely ruined.
Leo felt terrible.
On the fourth day he got on the back of the hippogriff — who was very willing — and flew to the hill, carrying the book under his arm.
"Please," he said to the dragon, and held out the open page.
The dragon looked at the empty page for a moment.
Then — slowly, grumbling under its breath — it folded its wings and stepped back in.
Leo closed the book and clasped the ruby clasps.
"Well?" said the Prime Minister, when Leo came home.
"I'm sorry," said Leo. "And I've fixed it."
The Prime Minister looked at the closed book, then at the King.
"In my experience," he said, after a moment, "fixing one's mistakes is considerably harder than not making them."
"I know," said Leo. "I'll try to remember that."
He was seven years old. He was not perfectly sure he would remember. But he meant to.