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Though Astra had no idea what a "sixpence" was, she read the rhyme to the
end:
Sing a song of sixpence,
a pocket full of rye.
Four and twenty blackbirds,
baked in a pie.
When the pie was opened,
the birds began to sing.
Wasn't that a dainty dish
to set before the king?
The king was in his counting house,
counting out his money.
The queen was in the parlour,
eating bread and honey.
The maid was in the garden,
hanging out the clothes,
When down came a blackbird
and pecked off her nose!
As she finished reading the rhyme, Astra felt lightheaded for a
moment. Then she realised that everything had changed.
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She was sitting in an ornate parlour, a plate piled high with slices of bread and honey on her lap.
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She was in a garden, hanging out clothes on a washing line.
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She was sitting at a desk, counting money.
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She had been transformed into a harpy, with great black wings,
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She was no longer in the Staircase Room. Stranger yet, her skin had darkened to near black.
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