immediately.
No. I want to go to the jungle.
Come with me, Paul.
Now, Paul.
Ridiculous as it may seem
to explain this to a six-year-old,
I do need your help.
Go ahead.
I was expecting
a very important spell in the mail
from my teacher, Prof. Emelius Browne,
and it hasn't come.
What's that got to do with my knob?
I must go to London immediately
and see Professor Browne.
With his help, we may be able
to bring this war to a successful end.
That is why I need the knob.
What is your decision?
Thank you, Paul.
I brought this for your hair.
It may be windy.
Thank you. It's ever so nice.
Paul, have you been to the bathroom?
- Twice.
- Good.
Charles, you better
put on something warmer.
The bed may travel quite fast.
I'm not going.
I'm staying right here.
But why, Charlie?
All that rubbish about a traveling bed.
It won't work. That's why.
Carrie, help me to pull the bed out.
We don't want to scratch the wall
when we take off, do we?
How's a ruddy big bed like that
gonna get out of this room
with those little windows?
I don't know. There's a great many
things about magic that I don't know.
- We'll just have to find out.
- Lovely!
Just leave me out of it.
I don't fancy making a fool of myself.
What's come over you lately, Charlie?
You're no fun anymore.
Help me tidy up. We don't want
to go to London with an unmade bed.
- How old is Charles?
- 11, going on 12.
I see. That's what my father used
to call the age of not believing.
What's that supposed to be?
When you rush around
In hopeless circles
Searching everywhere
For something true
You're at the age of not believing
When all the make-believe is through
That's Charlie to a tee.
When you set aside
Your childhood heroes
And your dreams are lost
Upon a shelf
You're at the age of not believing
And worst of all you doubt yourself
Throw that into the wastebasket.
You're a castaway
Where no one hears you
On a barren isle in a lonely sea
What's that? Poetry?
Where did all the happy endings go?
Where can all the good times be?
Everyone on the bed who's going.
You must face the age
Of not believing
Doubting everything you ever knew
The knob, Paul.
Until at last you start believing
There's something wonderful in you
Lovely sentiment, I'm sure.
- Are you ready, Paul?
- Yes, Miss Price.
Repeat after me.
Take us to Professor Emelius Browne.
Take us to Professor...
- Emelius Browne.
- Very good.
Headmaster,
Correspondence College of Witchcraft.
Headmaster,
Correspondence College...
of Witchcraft, London.
of Witchcraft, London.
Now when I say go,
tap the knob three times
and turn it a quarter-turn to the left.
- Left?
- That's it.
We better hold on tight.
The behavior of the bed,
I'm not quite sure of.
Let me breathe a little.
All right, Paul. Ready, go!
One, two, three.
- Is this London?
- Course it is!
- Can't you smell that lovely sooty air?
- Marvelous, ain't it?
- Well, Charles, are you convinced?
- Not yet I ain't.
- I don't see no Professor Browne.
- Neither do I.
You children look after the bed
while I make inquiries for Mr. Browne.
I told you this flaming bed
wouldn't work.
- Don't start that again.
- It didn't work proper.
This bed was supposed to take us
to Professor Browne.
Look!
"Professor Browne".
Come on!
Ladies and gentlemen,
gather round, please.
Please note the name,
Professor Emelius Browne.
I am here to divert, to amuse,
and, yes, even to help you.
- There he is!
- It is not what things are...
It is what they seem to be.
Is that not so?
That ain't the kind of professor
I expected.
I'm not sure it's the kind
Miss Price expected, either.
What effect a little smoke is...
with a dash of hocus-pocus
and the scent of burning...
...and the scent
of burning sulfur in the air.
Now for my next trick,
may I draw your attention to this
solid piece of ordinary window glass,
framed in an ordinary unprepared frame.
May I also draw your attention
to