Nick and Stella winged their way across the cave and splashed into the steaming pot. The magic brew foamed over their heads. Marjorie ran over to stir it with the wooden spoon.

“Ready or not, here I come!” Nick climbed out of the pot. “How do I look, Marge?”

“Wet,” Marjorie told him.

Nick looked down at his blue jeans and sneakers. He stretched out his arms and wiggled his fingers. “I’m going to miss those wings.”

Marjorie turned to look at the pot. A black point was rising out of it. This was the top of Stella’s hat. A second later Marjorie saw the wide brim. Bubbly drops of brew dripped from it over the witch’s face. She had bright green eyes, a long thin nose, and a pointed chin. Her straggly hair was as black as her hat.

Marjorie had forgotten how scary Stella had looked at the window. She watched the witch’s bony fingers grab the rim of the pot as she climbed out. Stella seemed to get bigger and bigger. Marjorie wanted to run, but she couldn’t move.

Stella’s buckled shoes thumped down on the dirt floor of the cave. She shook out the wet folds of her long black dress. Then she stretched out her skinny hand. “If you don’t mind, Marjorie, I’d like my spoon back.”

Marjorie was sure that the witch would be much more dangerous when she had her magic spoon. And maybe she was angry because Nick and Marjorie had been using it. But the spoon did belong to Stella. Marjorie handed it to her. “Are you still going to use it after what happened?”

Stella’s thin face cracked into a smile. Her green eyes sparkled. “I’ve had lots of fun with magic,” she said. “I don’t know what I’d do without it. Besides, now I know how to break the spells.” She rubbed her pointed chin. “At least I think I do. With magic you never can be sure of anything.”

The witch walked over to the pile of dry leaves. She pulled a black broom from under the tattered blanket. “The trouble with this,” she said, “is that it only flies at night.”

“Why?” Nick asked.

“Because I worked the spell at night,” Stella told him.

“Nick and I have to go home for lunch,” Marjorie said. “Do you want to join us, Stella?”

“I’d like to,” the witch said, “but people always seem to stare at me. I’d rather be out when most of them are asleep. It was nice of you to ask me, Marjorie. I hope you and Nick will visit me sometimes.”

“That would be fun,” Nick said.

Stella yawned. “Don’t come too early in the day. I usually go to bed at sunrise.”

“We’ll wait until afternoon.” Marjorie picked up the flashlight and walked to the door.

Nick followed her out to the hollow in the roots of the tree. His clothes were still soaking wet. “I’m glad I had a chance to fly, Marge, even if it didn’t last long.” He grabbed hold of the clothesline and started to shinny up.

Marjorie climbed up the rope after him. She shined the flashlight up into the hollow trunk of the tree.

“Marge!” Nick yelled. “You’d better hang on tight. Somebody’s pulling up the rope!”