“Beryl,” the old witch said, “tell me the truth! Did you lose the magic charm I gave you?”

The bluejay didn’t answer. She hung her head and looked ashamed.

The witch turned to the broom. “You brought these girls here because you thought they could help. Didn’t you?”

Wispy nodded.

The witch looked at Amy with her bright green eyes. “What do you know about all this?”

“Not very much,” Amy said. “I knew Wispy was a magic broom, but I didn’t know she belonged to a witch. And I thought the bluejay had escaped from a circus.”

“A circus!” the witch rasped. “What do you mean?”

“She didn’t really act like a bird,” Amy said. “She held her food in her claws instead of pecking it off the ground. And she drank out of a cup.”

The old witch frowned. “I can’t understand how Beryl got into all this trouble so fast. She came to the meeting Friday night.”

Before she had time to think, Amy said, “No, she didn’t.”

The witch grabbed her by the arm. “I thought you said you didn’t know much about all this.”

Amy looked into the witch’s eyes. “I don’t. But I do know Beryl wasn’t here Friday night. I was the one who answered when you called her name.” Then Amy told the old woman about her wild ride in the middle of the night. “Next morning I thought it was just a dream,” she finished.

“And how did you happen to have Beryl’s broom?” the witch wanted to know.

“My mother found the broom under the peach tree in the back yard,” Amy said. “And Jean discovered that the broom was magic when it pulled her into the house.”

The old woman turned to look at Jean.

“I thought Wispy was afraid of the bluejay,” Jean said. “But she must just have been trying to lead her into Amy’s house. After that the bird was always trying to get in.”

The witch was still holding the jay. She smoothed the blue feathers. “I suppose you know you’re in an awful fix,” she said to the bird.

“What do you mean?” Amy asked.

“She’s changed herself into a bird and now she can’t change back,” the old woman told her.

“Why can’t she? She’s a witch, isn’t she?” Jean said.

“Beryl is only a beginner. She’s not very good at magic yet.” The old woman straightened her purple hat.

“Can’t you help her?” Amy said. “You must be very good at magic.”

The old woman cleared her throat. She looked pleased. “Well, yes, I am good at magic,” she said, “quite good. But Beryl has lost the charm I gave her. You can’t go losing charms, you know.” She fiddled with the folds of her baggy skirt. “Oh, I suppose I might as well tell you. Only, mind you don’t go blabbing it around.” She lowered her voice. “Beryl is my granddaughter.”

“Your granddaughter!” Amy and Jean said together.

“Yes, and I’m fond of her,” the purple witch admitted. “But all the other witches would be very angry if they knew I gave her the strongest charm I have. It was a stupid thing to do. Beryl was always so silly. Fancy letting a broom fly bristles-forward just because it wants to!

“Now Beryl has used that powerful charm to change herself into a bluejay. She has lost the charm and can’t change back. And none of my magic is strong enough to break the spell.”

“Poor Beryl,” Amy said. “What can we do to help?”

“Take her home with you.” The old witch handed Amy the bluejay. “She doesn’t like sleeping in trees. And once in a while let her have a little cake or ice cream. Beryl always did like strange things to eat. I never could get her to enjoy beetles’ whiskers or any other proper witch food.”