Update <hgroup> children after first <h#> to <p>, ref. new HTML standard

src/epub/text/chapter-1.xhtml

@@ -9,7 +9,7 @@
 		<section id="chapter-1" epub:type="chapter">
 			<hgroup>
 				<h2 epub:type="ordinal z3998:roman">I</h2>
-				<h3 epub:type="title">Sabrina Fair</h3>
+				<p epub:type="title">Sabrina Fair</p>
 			</hgroup>
 			<p>That going to the seaside was the very beginning of everything⁠—only it seemed as though it were going to be a beginning without an end, like the roads on the Sussex downs which look like roads and then look like paths, and then turn into sheep tracks, and then are just grass and furze bushes and tottergrass and harebells and rabbits and chalk.</p>
 			<p>The children had been counting the days to The Day. Bernard indeed had made a calendar on a piece of cardboard that had once been the bottom of the box in which his new white sandshoes came home. He marked the divisions of the weeks quite neatly in red ink, and the days were numbered in blue ink, and every day he crossed off one of those numbers with a piece of green chalk he happened to have left out of a penny box. Mavis had washed and ironed all the dolls’ clothes at least a fortnight before The Day. This was thoughtful and farsighted of her, of course, but it was a little trying to Kathleen, who was much younger and who would have preferred to go on playing with her dolls in their dirtier and more familiar state.</p>

src/epub/text/chapter-10.xhtml

@@ -9,7 +9,7 @@
 		<section id="chapter-10" epub:type="chapter">
 			<hgroup>
 				<h2 epub:type="ordinal z3998:roman">X</h2>
-				<h3 epub:type="title">The Under Folk</h3>
+				<p epub:type="title">The Under Folk</p>
 			</hgroup>
 			<p>Those of us who have had the misfortune to be caught in a net in the execution of our military duty, and to be dragged away by the enemy with all the helpless buoyancy of captive balloons, will be able to appreciate the sensations of the four children to whom this gloomy catastrophe had occurred.</p>
 			<p>The net was very strong⁠—made of twisted fibrous filaments of seaweed. All efforts to break it were vain, and they had, unfortunately, nothing to cut it with. They had not even their oyster shells, the rough edges of which might have done something to help, or at least would have been useful weapons, and the discomfort of their position was extreme. They were, as Cathay put it, “all mixed up with each other’s arms and legs,” and it was very difficult and painful to sort themselves out without hurting each other.</p>

src/epub/text/chapter-11.xhtml

@@ -9,7 +9,7 @@
 		<section id="chapter-11" epub:type="chapter">
 			<hgroup>
 				<h2 epub:type="ordinal z3998:roman">XI</h2>
-				<h3 epub:type="title">The Peacemaker</h3>
+				<p epub:type="title">The Peacemaker</p>
 			</hgroup>
 			<p>The children thought they had never seen a kinder face or more noble bearing than that of the Professor of Conchology, but the Mer Princess could not bear to look at him. She now felt what Mavis had felt when Cathay failed to recognize her⁠—the misery of being looked at without recognition by the eyes that we know and love. She turned away, and pretended to be looking at the leaves of the seaweed hedge while Mavis and Francis were arranging to take lessons in Conchology three days a week, from two to four.</p>
 			<p>“You had better join a class,” said the Professor, “you will learn less that way.”</p>

src/epub/text/chapter-12.xhtml

@@ -9,7 +9,7 @@
 		<section id="chapter-12" epub:type="chapter">
 			<hgroup>
 				<h2 epub:type="ordinal z3998:roman">XII</h2>
-				<h3 epub:type="title">The End</h3>
+				<p epub:type="title">The End</p>
 			</hgroup>
 			<p>The Queen of the Under Folk sat with her husband on their second-best throne, which was much more comfortable than their State one, though not so handsome. Their sad faces were lighted up with pleasure as they watched the gambols of their new pet, Fido, a dear little earth-child, who was playing with a ball of soft pink seaweed, patting it, and tossing it and running after it as prettily as any kitten.</p>
 			<p>“Dear little Fido,” said the Queen, “come here then,” and Fido, who had once been Cathay, came willingly to lean against the Queen’s knee and be stroked and petted.</p>

src/epub/text/chapter-2.xhtml

@@ -9,7 +9,7 @@
 		<section id="chapter-2" epub:type="chapter">
 			<hgroup>
 				<h2 epub:type="ordinal z3998:roman">II</h2>
-				<h3 epub:type="title">The Captive</h3>
+				<p epub:type="title">The Captive</p>
 			</hgroup>
 			<p>The delicate pinkish bloom of newness was on the wooden spades, the slick smoothness of the painted pails showed neither scratch nor dent on their green and scarlet surface⁠—the shrimping nets were full and fluffy as, once they and sand and water had met, they never could be again. The pails and spades and nets formed the topmost layer of a pile of luggage⁠—you know the sort of thing, with the big boxes at the bottom; and the carryall bulging with its wraps and mackers; the old portmanteau that shows its striped lining through the crack and is so useful for putting boots in; and the sponge bag, and all the little things that get left out. You can almost always squeeze a ball or a paint box or a box of chalks or any of those things⁠—which grownups say you won’t really want till you come back⁠—into that old portmanteau⁠—and then when it’s being unpacked at the journey’s end the most that can happen will be that someone will say, “I thought I told you not to bring that,” and if you don’t answer back, that will be all. But most likely in the agitation of unpacking and settling in, your tennis ball, or pencil box, or whatever it is, will pass unnoticed. Of course, you can’t shove an aquarium into the old portmanteau⁠—nor a pair of rabbits, nor a hedgehog⁠—but anything in reason you can.</p>
 			<p>The luggage that goes in the van is not much trouble⁠—of course, it has to be packed and to be strapped, and labeled and looked after at the junction, but apart from that the big luggage behaves itself, keeps itself to itself, and like your elder brothers at college never occasions its friends a moment’s anxiety. It is the younger fry of the luggage family, the things you have with you in the carriage that are troublesome⁠—the bundle of umbrellas and walking sticks, the golf clubs, the rugs, the greatcoats, the basket of things to eat, the books you are going to read in the train and as often as not you never look at them, the newspapers that the grownups are tired of and yet don’t want to throw away, their little bags or dispatch cases and suitcases and card cases, and scarfs and gloves⁠—</p>

src/epub/text/chapter-3.xhtml

@@ -9,7 +9,7 @@
 		<section id="chapter-3" epub:type="chapter">
 			<hgroup>
 				<h2 epub:type="ordinal z3998:roman">III</h2>
-				<h3 epub:type="title">The Rescue</h3>
+				<p epub:type="title">The Rescue</p>
 			</hgroup>
 			<p>The great question, of course, was⁠—Would Mother take them to the circus, or would she, if she wouldn’t herself take them, let them go alone? She had once, in Buckinghamshire, allowed them to go to a traveling menagerie, after exacting from them a promise that they were not to touch any of the animals, and they had seen reason to regret their promise when the showman offered to let them stroke his tame performing wolf, who was so very like a collie. When they had said, “No, thank you,” the showman had said, “Oh, frightened, are you? Run along home to Mammy then!” and the bystanders had laughed in a most insulting way. At a circus, of course, the horses and things aren’t near enough for you to stroke them, so this time they might not be asked to promise. If Mother came with them her presence, though agreeable, would certainly add to the difficulties, already quite enough⁠—as even Mavis could not but see⁠—of rescuing the Mermaid. But suppose Mother didn’t come with them.</p>
 			<p>“Suppose we have to promise we won’t touch any of the animals?” suggested Cathay. “You can’t rescue a person without touching it.”</p>

src/epub/text/chapter-4.xhtml

@@ -9,7 +9,7 @@
 		<section id="chapter-4" epub:type="chapter">
 			<hgroup>
 				<h2 epub:type="ordinal z3998:roman">IV</h2>
-				<h3 epub:type="title">Gratitude</h3>
+				<p epub:type="title">Gratitude</p>
 			</hgroup>
 			<p>It is hardly possible to imagine a situation less attractive than that of Mavis and Francis⁠—even the position of the Mermaid curled up in a dry barrow and far from her native element was not exactly luxurious. Still, she was no worse off than she had been when the lariat first curled itself about her fishy extremity. But the children! They had braved the terrors of night in an adventure of singular courage and daring, they had carried out their desperate enterprise, the Mermaid was rescued, and success seemed near⁠—no further off than the sea indeed, and that, in point of fact, was about a quarter of a mile away. To be within a quarter of a mile of achievement, and then to have the cup of victory dashed from your lips, the crown of victory torn from your brow by⁠—the police!</p>
 			<p>It was indeed hard. And what was more, it was dangerous.</p>

src/epub/text/chapter-5.xhtml

@@ -9,7 +9,7 @@
 		<section id="chapter-5" epub:type="chapter">
 			<hgroup>
 				<h2 epub:type="ordinal z3998:roman">V</h2>
-				<h3 epub:type="title">Consequences</h3>
+				<p epub:type="title">Consequences</p>
 			</hgroup>
 			<p>The three children looked at each other.</p>
 			<p>“Well!” said Mavis.</p>

src/epub/text/chapter-6.xhtml

@@ -9,7 +9,7 @@
 		<section id="chapter-6" epub:type="chapter">
 			<hgroup>
 				<h2 epub:type="ordinal z3998:roman">VI</h2>
-				<h3 epub:type="title">The Mermaid’s Home</h3>
+				<p epub:type="title">The Mermaid’s Home</p>
 			</hgroup>
 			<p>The parents of Mavis, Francis, Kathleen and Bernard were extremely sensible people. If they had not been, this story could never have happened. They were as jolly as any father and mother you ever met, but they were not always fussing and worrying about their children, and they understood perfectly well that children do not care to be absolutely always under the parental eye. So that, while there were always plenty of good times in which the whole family took part, there were also times when Father and Mother went off together and enjoyed themselves in their own grown-up way, while the children enjoyed themselves in theirs. It happened that on this particular afternoon there was to be a concert at Lymington⁠—Father and Mother were going. The children were asked whether they would like to go, and replied with equal courtesy and firmness.</p>
 			<p>“Very well then,” said Mother, “you do whatever you like best. I should play on the shore, I think, if I were you. Only don’t go around the corner of the cliff, because that’s dangerous at high tide. It’s safe so long as you’re within sight of the coast guards. Anyone have any more pie? No⁠—then I think I’ll run and dress.”</p>

src/epub/text/chapter-7.xhtml

@@ -9,7 +9,7 @@
 		<section id="chapter-7" epub:type="chapter">
 			<hgroup>
 				<h2 epub:type="ordinal z3998:roman">VII</h2>
-				<h3 epub:type="title">The Skies Are Falling</h3>
+				<p epub:type="title">The Skies Are Falling</p>
 			</hgroup>
 			<p>As the children passed through the golden doors a sort of swollen feeling which was beginning to make their heads quite uncomfortable passed away, and left them with a curiously clear and comfortable certainty that they were much cleverer than usual.</p>
 			<p>“I <em>could</em> do sums now, and no mistake,” Bernard whispered to Kathleen, who replied to the effect that dates no longer presented the slightest difficulty to her.</p>

src/epub/text/chapter-8.xhtml

@@ -9,7 +9,7 @@
 		<section id="chapter-8" epub:type="chapter">
 			<hgroup>
 				<h2 epub:type="ordinal z3998:roman">VIII</h2>
-				<h3 epub:type="title">The Water-War</h3>
+				<p epub:type="title">The Water-War</p>
 			</hgroup>
 			<p>After the sound of that terrible shouting there came silence⁠—that is, there was silence where the children were, but all above they could hear the rush and rustle of a quick arming.</p>
 			<p>“The war cry of the People of the Depths,” said the Princess.</p>

src/epub/text/chapter-9.xhtml

@@ -9,7 +9,7 @@
 		<section id="chapter-9" epub:type="chapter">
 			<hgroup>
 				<h2 epub:type="ordinal z3998:roman">IX</h2>
-				<h3 epub:type="title">The Book People</h3>
+				<p epub:type="title">The Book People</p>
 			</hgroup>
 			<p>Even in the midst of war there are intervals for refreshments. Our own soldiers, no matter how fierce, must eat to live, and the same is the case with the submarine regiments. The Crustacean Brigade took advantage of the lull in hostilities which followed the defeat of the Sea Horses to march back to the Palace and have a meal. A very plain meal it was, too, and very different from the “Banquet of Ovations,” as Cathay pointed out afterward. There were no prettily spread tables decorated with bunches of seaweed, no plates or knives or forks. The food was passed around by hand, and there was one drinking horn (a sea cow’s horn) to every six soldiers. They all sat on the ground as you do at a picnic, and the Queen came and spoke a few hurried words to them when on her way to strengthen the defenses of the golden gate. And, as I said, the food was plain. However, everyone had enough to eat, which was the main thing. Baskets of provisions were sent down to the Lobsters’ guardroom.</p>
 			<p>“It is important,” said Princess Freia, “that our men should be on the spot in case they are needed, and the same with the dinner. I shall go down with the provisions and keep their hearts up.”</p>