Jessica Claridge: Anthea

Five Children and It

Anthea

Anthea: Robert, wait for us!
Robert: I'm sure we're going the right way.
Jane: How many times have you said that? I still don't understand why we had to leave home.
Robert: Jane, we're going on a secret mission behind enemy lines. The chances are that none of us will make it back alive.

Cyril: That's not a car. That is the Portman Speedster 3000, and according to Motor-Car Monthly, the 3000 is the fastest motor of all time. We're talking eight horsepower.
Anthea: If it's so wonderful, why don't you just buy it?
Robert: Yeah, buy the car, Cyril!

Anthea: Oh my gosh, I've got wings!
Jane: So soft, so white...
Cyril: The little - He must've made a wish! He's out of control. I don't know how I'm gonna cut it. What am I gonna tell Mum? Look at you!
Robert: Cyril!
Cyril: You've done it again. What were you thinking?
Robert: I'm going to France to see Dad!
Cyril: France?
Robert: His letter said he wished he could fly to see us. He can't, but we can fly to him. Come on!
Cyril: Robert, wait!

Psammead: You don't get many cards these days. You know how it is after your 6,523rd birthday.
Anthea: You don't look that old.
Psammead: I drink a lot of moisturizer.
Jane: And you can't have a birthday without a present. Here.
Psammead: Brown paper, my favorite!
Jane: No, you have to unwrap it.
Psammead: Oh, yes, I knew that.

Martha: In the morning, I'll give you a tour of the grounds. You're allowed everywhere except the greenhouse. That's strictly off limits.
Jane: Why would a greenhouse be off limits?
Anthea: Maybe the plants are deadly, like in "The Black Rose Of Devil's Island".
Jane: Maybe.
Martha: The greenhouse is off limits because I said it is. So just stay out of it, and everything will be fine. Here we go.
[hums]

Psammead: Stay back!
Cyril: [to Robert] You have to stop talking to it. It could be dangerous.
Anthea: I bet it has huge fangs and poisonous saliva.
Robert: It's an ugly little monster.
Psammead: "It"? "It"? "It"? Do you mean to tell me that you do not know what a Psammead is?
Robert: You're a what?
Psammead: I am a Psammead crustacea decapodlium wishasaurus. Got it?
Robert: No.

Cyril: She's right, you know. This is big. It's huge. It's immense. It's monumentally, colossally ginormous.
Jane: Is that even a word?
Anthea: Apparently it is now.

Martha: What a to-do today turned out to be.
Jane: Oh... It wasn't us. Honestly, it was the sand fairy...
Cyril: Jane!
Martha: Sand fairy, huh?
Jane: Err... No!
Cyril: No. She didn't say "sand fairy", she said... She said...
Anthea: Safari.
Cyril: Safari. Yes.
Anthea: We were pretending to be on safari, and Cyril is an elephant.
Martha: A safari, of course. Well, now, if we all do as I do... we can undo all this to-do before tomorrow. Come along, you lot.

Mother: Shhh...
Anthea: [about Horace] How is he?
Mother: Martha's been up with him all night. I told her to take a rest. I don't know what's wrong with him. He just keeps muttering about monsters and sand fairies.
Anthea: Maybe you should have a rest, too.