Sweetie Belle wandered on until she came upon two tall, thin men with red hair, and dressed in white pants and striped vests.

They were standing so still that she thought they weren't alive.

And Sweetie Belle knew which was which because one of them had "Flim" embroidered on his lapel pin (which was shaped like part of an apple) and the other had "Flam". And one of them had a mustache and the other didn't.

"Look. We're standing still as waxworks," said the first one, Flim.

"And if you think we're waxworks," said Flam, the one with the mustache, "you should pay for the privilege of looking, you know. Waxworks weren't made to be looked at for nothing."

"No-how!" they both said.

"Contrariwise," added Flim, "if you think we're alive, you ought to speak to us. Or at the very least, allow us to introduce ourselves."

"That's logic," they both said.

"I'm sorry," Sweetie Belle apologized.

"He's Flim," said Flam.

"He's Flam," said Flim.

"We're the world-famous Flimflam Brothers," they both said.

"It was nice meeting you. Goodbye,"

And she walked on between them.

"Does the name Brush Stroke mean anything to you?" Flam asked.

"No, who is that?"

"I don't know," Flim replied, "but we're obviously doing her a favor mentioning her. Do you think she'll be grateful if she becomes famous?"

"No-how!" they both said.

She turned around to face them again.

"I was just thinking of a poem of you two," she said.

Brothers Flim and Flam

Agreed to have a battle;

For brother Flam said his brother Flim

Had spoiled his nice new rattle.

Just then flew down a monstrous crow,

As black as a tar barrel;

Which frightened both the brothers so,

They quite forgot their quarrel.

The brothers looked at each other and smiled.

"There's no monstrous crow!" Flim laughed.

"You recited that poem very nicely," Flam said. "Congratulations, but it isn't us."

"No-how!" they said.

"It's another set of Flimflam Brothers altogether," said Flam. "Completely different."

"Contrariwise, you began all wrong," said Flim.

"Yes, yes," added Flam. "Right after we introduced ourselves, you should have told us your name. That's the first thing you do in a visit: you say, 'How do you do?' and shake hands!"

The two brothers gave each other a hug and then they held out two hands that were free, to shake hands with her.

Sweetie Belle did not like shaking hands with either of them first, for fear of hurting the other one's feelings; so, as the best way out of the difficulty, she took hold of both hands at once. The next moment, they were dancing in a ring and singing "Here we go 'round the mulberry bush". This seemed quite natural (she remembered afterwards), and she was not even surprised to hear music playing.

Then they let go of Sweetie Belle's hands and stood looking at her for a moment.

"That's manners!" they said.

"Well, my name is Sweetie Belle," she said, somewhat politely.

"As we began with poetry and song," Flim went on, "let's continue that way."

"I'm sorry, but I haven't the time,"

She turned around and was about to walk off, only to find that somehow the twins had reappeared in front of her again.

"Neither have we," Flam replied. "We never carry a watch."

"The poem's called, 'The Witch and the Magician,'" said Flim.

"You'll love it," said Flam.

They reached behind their backs and produced a diorama that looked like a theater stage, and they placed it on a rock between them.

"You start, brother mine," said Flam.

Flim cleared his throat and began.

"The Sun was shining on the sea..."

The Sun was shining on the sea,

Shining with all his might:

He did his very best to make

The billows smooth and bright—

And this was odd, because it was

The middle of the night.

The Witch and the Magician

Were walking close at hand:

They wept like anything to see

Such quantities of sand:

'If this were only cleared away,'

They said, 'it really would be grand!'

'If seven maids with seven mops

Swept for half a year,

Do you suppose," the Witch said.

"That they could get it clear?'

'I doubt it very much,' said the Magician.

And she shed a bitter tear.

'Oh, Oysters, will you walk with us?'

The Witch did beseech.

'A pleasant walk, a pleasant talk

Along the briny beach?'

'But we cannot do with more than four,

To give a hand to each.'

The oldest oyster looked at her,

But never a word he said:

Meaning to say he did not choose

To leave the oyster bed.

But four young oysters hurried up.

All eager for the treat:

Their coats were brushed, their faces washed,

Their shoes were clean and neat.

And this was odd.

"And why was that?" Sweetie Bell asked.

"Because they hadn't any feet," Flam replied.

'The time has come,' the Witch said,

'To talk of many things.:

Of shoes – and ships – and sealing wax –

Of cabbages – and kings –

And why the sea is boiling hot –

And whether pigs have wings.'

'But wait a bit,' the Oysters cried,

'Before we have our chat;

For some of us are out of breath,

And all of us are fat!'

'There really is no hurry!' said the Magician.

They thanked him very much for that.

'A slice of bread,' the Magician said.

'Is what we chiefly need:

Pepper and vinegar besides

Are very good indeed –

Now, if you're ready, Oysters dear,

We can begin to feed.'

'But not on us!' the Oysters cried,

Turning a little blue.

'After such kindness, that would be

A dismal thing to do!'

'Yes. It was so kind of you to come!

And you are very nice!'

The Witch said nothing but

'Give us another slice.

I wish you were not quite so deaf –

I've had to ask you twice!'

'It seems a shame,' the Witch said,

'I must confess, to play them such a trick.

After we've brought them so far,

And made them trot so quick!'

And the Magician said, 'Look at this!

Look at this! The butter's spread too thick!'

'I weep for you,' the Witch said:

'I deeply sympathize.'

With sobs and tears she sorted out

Those of the largest size.

Holder her handkerchief

Before her streaming eyes.

'Oh, Oysters,' said the Magician,

'You've had a pleasant run!

Shall we be trotting home again?'

But answer came there none –

And this was scarcely odd, because

They'd eaten every one.

And the curtain went down and the diorama disappeared.

"So, what's the verdict?" Flam asked Sweetie Belle.

"I like the Witch best," she said, "because she was a little sorry for what she'd done."

"She ate more than the Magician," Flim said.

"Then I like the Magician best—if she didn't get so many as the Witch,"

"She ate as many as she could get," Flam said.

"Then they're both very nasty characters,"

Suddenly, she heard something that sounded like the puffing of a large steam-engine, though she feared it was more likely to be a wild beast.

"Is that a Manticore or a Chimera?" she asked timidly.

"Worse!" said Flim. "It's Lord Tirek snoring."

"King Scorpan's no-good brother," added Flam. "Every family has one. Except ours."

"We've got two!" they both said.

And they all went up to where the demonic Centaur was sleeping.

He was lying crumpled up into a sort of untidy heap.

"He'll catch a cold lying there," said Sweetie Belle.

"Oh, he won't mind," said Flim. "He's dreaming about you."

"Yes, if he woke up now, you'd go out just like a candle," added Flam.

"I would not!" Sweetie Belle said indignantly. "Besides, if I'm only a dream, then what are you two?"

When the brothers had no answer, Sweetie Belle turned. And when she was about to leave, Flam shouted, "What is that?"

He pointed with a trembling finger at a small thing lying under a tree.

"It's only a rattle," Sweetie Belle said, after she had picked it up and started examining it.

"You left it lying in the grass!" Flam shouted at Flim.

"It looks a bit battered," Sweetie Belle said.

"It's spoilt!" Flam cried.

"Don't get upset about an old rattle," she told him.

"Old? It isn't old!" Flam shouted in a greater fury than ever. "I bought it yesterday – it's brand-spanking new!"

And he threw it into the mud.

"There's only one thing for it!" Flam declared. "We have to fight! For the honor of the Brothers!"

All this time, Flim was trying to hide behind a tree. And when he heard his brother declare that they must battle, he marched out from his hiding place.

"Right. Flam Scam versus the superior Flim Skim," Flim said. "Frankly, it's a bit one-sided. Only... she must help us dress for it. Armor to protect our vital parts."

So, the two brothers went off into the wood, and returned in a minute with their arms full of things – bolsters, blankets, hearth-rugs, tablecloths, dish covers, and a hat rack.

"Whatever the outcome, dear brother," said Flam, "I shall remember you in my will. No money, of course, but I shall write 'I will remember you, Flim.'"

"I appreciate the thought, but I'd rather have the cash, Flam!" Flim replied.

"Do I look pale?" Flam asked, coming up to have his helmet tied on (He called it a helmet, but it looked more like a saucepan).

"A little," she admitted gently.

"Generally, I'm very brave," he went on in a loud voice. "Only today I have a headache."

"And I've got a toothache!" said Flim, who had overheard the remark.

"You'd better not fight today, then," said Sweetie Belle, in a final effort to make peace.

"We must have a bit of a fight," Flam said. "It's expected."

"And all of this over a rattle?" Sweetie Belle asked, still hoping to make them a little ashamed of fighting over something so petty.

"I wouldn't have minded it," said Flam. "But it was brand-new!"

It was getting dark so suddenly that Sweetie Belle thought there must be a thunderstorm coming.

"It's the crow!" Flam shouted out in a shrill voice of alarm. "The monstrous crow!"

And the two brothers took to their heels and were out of sight.

Sweetie Belle ran into the wood and tripped over a large tree root.

She looked up and saw two Changeling guards standing over her.

"Sweetie Belle," one of them said, "you are hereby and forthwith summoned to attend the trial of Thorax, the Knave of the Changelings."