For some time the children leaned over the rail looking back at the group of cats gathered at the water's edge. The form of the Pirate Chief towered above them all as he ran up and down the beach yowling out all sorts of commands to which was paid very little attention by any one, and stopping every little while to flourish an angry paw in the direction of theMerry Mouser.
Peter regarded him sadly. "Poor old Mitts," he sighed, "it was an awful mean trick to play on him! He hasn't got any other boat and he looks so mad, I b'lieve he'd swim after us if he could."
"He could, all right," said Prowler gravely, "but he'd get his paws wet, and that's a serious thing, you know."
Rudolf and Ann burst out laughing, and even Peter smiled, for it seemed to them a funny thing for a pirate to fuss about.
"Now," exclaimed Rudolf, as the breeze freshened and the forms of the cat pirates began to fade from sight, "there's a great deal to be attended to. What do you think we'd better get at first?"
"My pink pajamas!" cried Prowler, leaping in the air and turning a double somersault in his delight.
"My paper collars!" shouted Growler, following his example.
Rudolf was disgusted with the two mates for thinking of such nonsense at a time like this, but it was no use trying to do anything with them. They left theMerry Mouserto his management, and rushed below to bring up the False Hare's suit case. When they returned they were followed by the two spotted sailors whom they introduced to the children as Toddles and Towser. Toddles and Towser were still very sleepy. They had managed to free themselves by chewing the string that bound their paws, but they did not seem at all disturbed by the change in affairs or inclined to make any trouble.
Rudolf placed them both at the wheel with stern directions to keep each other awake if possible. He then went below to see if he could find his sword before either Growler or Prowler should take a fancy to it. It was hanging up over Captain Mittens' berth, and under the Chief's pillow, neatly folded ready for the night, Rudolf found Peter's pajamas. As they were quite dry now, he called Peter and insisted on his putting them on, much against the little boy's wishes, for hot and tight and furry as his borrowed suit had been, Peter had felt gloriously like a pirate in it! Very sulkily he followed his brother out of the cabin, but when the two had mounted to the deck Peter's sulks gave way to a burst of giggles at the sight of Growler and Prowler.
Ann was sitting on the deck quite weak with laughter, while the two mates, dressed in their stolen finery, paraded up and down in front of her. Prowler's pink pajamas were a better fit for him than Growler's paper collar which nearly concealed his pirate's nose, only the points of his whiskers and the tips of his black ears showing. Ann had added to his costume by the loan of her blue hair-ribbon which she had tied in a nice bow on the tip of his tail. But Prowler, if possible, looked even more silly than Growler, for he copied the actions of Captain Mittens as closely as he could, folding his paws on his chest and scowling gloomily about him. He seemed extremely vexed when the children laughed, but they really could not help it, since a pirate in pink pajamas is not particularly dreadful. At last, after much coaxing, Rudolf got the whole party to sit down in a circle on the deck and consult with him on some plan of action.
"Wemustmake up our minds," said he firmly, "on where we are going, and what is the nearest land, and what we are going to do when we get there, and who is in command of theMerry Mouser, anyway, and—"
Here he was interrupted by Prowler who said would he please go a little slower, for Rudolf was making his head ache and it reminded him of going to his aunt's to say his catechism.
"The thing ter do," drawled Growler sleepily, "is ter do nothin' 'tall till ye git somewheres where somethin's gotter be did, an' then like's not it's too late ter do anything an' all yer trouble's saved for ye!"
Rudolf did not think much of this as advice, but Prowler seemed delighted. "Hurrah, my hearties!" he shouted, and up he jumped, stood on his furry head on the deck, and waved his pink pajamaed legs in the air. "Now we can have our tea!" he cried.
The faces of the three children brightened at the pleasant thought of tea, and when the tray arrived, carried by Towser, Ann asked if she might pour.
"Paw away!" cried Prowler, grinning widely as he fixed his round yellow eyes on a small covered dish that Toddles had just set before him.
Ann lifted the cover of the tea-pot to peep inside but as she sniffed the steam an expression of disgust wrinkled up her little nose. "Ugh!" she cried, "it's catnip tea."
"Course it is," answered Prowler calmly. "Catnip tea and stewed mouses' tails—an' I asks what could anybody want nicer?"
"Little girls that don't like what's put before 'em can go without. Ever hear anything like that before?" asked Growler sweetly, and as he spoke he reached over and took the covered dish away from Prowler and helped himself to it largely.
"But we don't any of us like this kind of a tea!" cried Rudolf angrily.
"Then all the more for us that does," said Prowler, and he snatched the dish in his turn away from Growler and emptied all that was left of it on his own plate. Since there was nothing else for the children to do, they sat and watched the two mates eat, all of them feeling decidedly cross, especially Peter. When every drop was finished and every crumb licked up, Growler said to Prowler, "Time for a nap, old boy," and without so much as a look in the children's direction the two rude fellows turned tail and marched off arm in arm to their bunks.
"Well, theyarenice!" cried Ann. "And what arewegoing to do, I would like to know?"
"What we are going to do," said Rudolf thoughtfully, "is probably to be shipwrecked. Oh, notrightaway," he added quickly as he saw how frightened his little sister looked. "But there's land close ahead, as sure as sure can be, and, if I'm not much mistaken, Toddles and Towser have both gone to sleep at the wheel."
It was true. The two common sea-cats had left the wheel to take care of itself and had curled themselves up in a soft round ball on the deck for a nap from which the children found it impossible to arouse them.
"I will try to steer and also mind the sheet, I think that's what it's called," said Rudolf, "but as I don't knowmuchabout sailing a boat except what I've read in books, and you and Peter don't knowanything, I think the least we'll do will be to run her aground."
"Let's try to wake Growler and Prowler up," Ann begged. "They can't be sound asleep yet."
The two mates were not only sound asleep but snoring loudly. Ann and Peter tried shaking them, spanking them, even drenching them with the cold remains of the catnip tea, but it was all no use, they could not get them to stir. Meanwhile theMerry Mouserwas drifting dangerously near land, in spite of all Rudolf could do to prevent her. He did several things and he ordered Peter and Ann to do a good many others, but all of them felt glad the False Hare was not there to compliment them on their seamanship. At last there came a dull shock and a jar, and theMerry Mouserran her nose into a sand-bar, quivered all over, and then stood still.
"The thing to donow" said Rudolf easily, just as if he had planned it all, "is for us to get into the little boat we are towing and row ourselves ashore. Of course we must wake up the mates and the crew and take them with us."
It was simply astonishing the things those children had to do to Growler and Prowler before they could get either of them so much as to open an eye! When they were at last able to understand what had happened, they merely turned over and growled out: "Oh, isthatall? Aground, are we? Ye needn't have waked us up forthat! Be off as soon as ye like and give us some rest—do!" They had hardly left off speaking before they were sound asleep again. As for Toddles and Towser they refused to wake at all.
The children left them where they lay and climbed Over the side of theMerry Mouserinto the little rowboat which Rudolf had brought alongside. When all were safely aboard, he cut loose the tow-rope, took the oars, and pulled away from the pirate ship. After a short and pleasant row they reached a gently shelving beach where it was not difficult to make a landing.
Ann stood and stared at the line of low hills that fringed the edge of the water. "What funny, funny country!" she exclaimed. "It's like a checker-board going up-hill."
"No, it isn't either," said Rudolf, who loved to disagree, "because the squares are not square, they're all different shapes and sizes and they're not just red and black but ever and ever so many different colors."
"It's something like the countries in the geography maps, anyway," said Ann.
"It's like patchwork," said Peter, and he came nearest the truth.
As it did not seem likely they would need the little boat again, the children left it to float away if it liked, and crossed the strip of gray sand to where they saw a little pink and white striped path winding up the side of a crimson hill. This path they began to follow, and it took them by so many twists and turns that they hardly noticed the climb. When the last loop brought them to the top of the slope they stood still and looked about them, surprised and delighted at the beauty of the bare bright hills that sloped away in front of them.
The ground under their feet was now a bright beautiful yellow, powdered all over with little white dots that proved to be daisies. With shouts of delight, Ann and Peter stooped to gather these, but Rudolf cried out: "Oh, look, look! Don't let's stop here. It's prettier yet farther on!" So on they ran, all three of them, over the yellow ground, over a stretch of green and blue checks, across a lavender meadow, and found themselves at last in a wonderful pale blue field scattered all over with bunches of little pink roses.
"This is the prettiest yet," exclaimed Ann, "though of course it is very old-fashioned. I wonder what it reminds me of? Ruddy, do you remember that picture of Aunt Jane when she was little in such a funny dress with low neck and short sleeves—"
The children had been wandering across the field as Ann spoke, stopping to pull a rose here and there, too busy and too happy to notice where their feet were taking them. All at once they looked up and saw that they had come to the end of the pale blue field where it bordered on a broad brown road. Just ahead of them stood a little white tent, and from the door of the tent two tin soldiers suddenly sprang out, shouldered arms, and cried: "Halt!"
Of course the children halted. There was nothing else to do, so astonished were they to meet any one when they had supposed themselves to be in quite a wild and uninhabited country. Besides, though these were small and tinny-looking, yet soldiers are soldiers wherever you meet them, and have an air about them which makes people feel respectful. These two handled their little guns in a most businesslike manner. The taller of the two, who seemed by his uniform to be a superior officer, now stepped forward and snapped out: "Give the countersign!"
The children stood still and stared, Peter with his thumb in his mouth.
"We haven't got any, sir, so we can't give it to you," said Ann at last.
"Silly! He meanssayit," whispered Rudolf in her ear.
"We can't say it either," Ann went on, "because we don't know it. But we know lots of other things," she added, looking pleadingly at the officer. "Rudolf, he can say the whole of ''Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse'—and I can say 'The Gentle Cow all Red and White I Love with all my Heart',—and Peter he says 'I have a Little Shadow',—he knows it all, every word!"
The little officer turned sharply to his companion. "Make a note of that, Sergeant," he snorted. "Head it, suspicious information: first prisoner, probably dangerous burglar burgling on Christmas eve; second prisoner, cattle thief; third prisoner—"
"But we aren't anything like that," broke in Rudolf hastily. "You're entirely mistaken, we—"
"Say what you are, then," snapped the officer, "and where you have come from and where you are going and what you are going to do when you get there; say it, quick!" And raising his little gun, the officer pointed it straight at Rudolf's nose.
"We have come from Catnip Island where we were captured by the cat pirates," began Rudolf, stumbling over the words in his excitement, "and we—we don't know exactly where we are going, and we—we aren't doing exactly anything!"
"Aha!" The officer turned to his sergeant with a triumphant expression. "Just what I thought. Anybody that can't give a better account of himself than that had better be locked up. Spies—aha! Another of you came ashore a while ago—a glib-tongued, story-telling gentleman who fooled us into letting him off, but we've gotyousafe and sound and here you'll stay! Sergeant, arrest these spies!"
"Certainly, sir," said the sergeant, making a note of it in his book, "but please, sir, how do they be spelled, Captain Jinks, sir?"
"S-p-i-s-e, spies, of course, idiot!" snapped the captain. "Now then, off with 'em. Separate cell for each prisoner, bars to the windows. Heavy chains on this gentleman in particeler," pointing to Rudolf. "Bread and water, on a Sunday. Off to the jail with 'em—march 'em along!"
"Beg pardon, sir," interrupted the sergeant who was glad of an excuse to stop at a very difficult bit of spelling. "We'll have to wait a bit. I hear the Queen's band playin'—"
"Then stand at attention and hold yourself answerable for the prisoners!" With this command, Captain Jinks faced about to the road, and stiffened all over till he looked like a little tin statue. For some time the children had been hearing the sound of music, at first faint and far-away, now growing louder and louder. The sergeant pulled them hastily to the side of the road, and bade them in a gruff voice, "Keep quiet, or he'd settle 'em!" Then he, too, stiffened all over just as Captain Jinks had done, and both of them presented arms. The head of a procession was coming in sight.
First came a large company of soldiers almost exactly like Captain Jinks and the sergeant, except that their uniforms were a little shabbier-looking, and their arms a little less brightly polished. They held themselves stiffly and marched very well, in spite of the fact that many of them had suffered severe injuries, such as the loss of a leg or an arm at the least, in some former campaign, and all of them were rather the worse for wear. After the soldiers came the band, playing shrilly on their tiny instruments, and next, to the children's delight and astonishment, rolled a number of little carriages drawn by mechanical horses. Rudolf was so keenly interested in the working of these mechanical horses, that he hardly noticed the fine ladies who sat stiffly on the cushioned seats of the carriages, very grandly dressed, and holding beautiful pink and blue parasols over their curled heads.
Suddenly Ann grabbed his arm and whispered: "Look, look! Did you see them? Marie-Louise and Angelina-Elfrida, myowndolls, and they never so much as bowed!"
"Perhaps they didn't know you," whispered Rudolf.
"They did, too," returned his sister angrily. "They just laughed and turned their heads the other way, horrid things! Just wait, I'll tell them what I think of them; but, oh, Rudolf, here come more carriages and more dolls in them, and how queerly they are dressed, these last, I mean! I never saw any dolls like them before. See their poke bonnets, and their fringed mantles, and their little hoop-skirts, but, oh, look,look, can that be the Queen?"
Ann's voice sounded disappointed as well as surprised, and in her excitement she spoke so loud that Captain Jinks himself turned his threatening eye on her and called out: "Silence!" But Ann paid no attention to him, nor did the other children; the eyes of all three were fixed upon a little figure who rode all alone at the very end of the procession. They knew she must be the Queen by the respectful way in which Captain Jinks and the sergeant saluted, but she was very different from what they had imagined a Queen to be. The wooden horse which she rode was not handsome, indeed one of his legs was missing, but he pranced and curvetted so proudly upon the remaining three that it seemed as if he knew he carried a Queen upon his back. The royal lady kept her seat with perfect ease, and when she came opposite the children, she checked her steed, halted, and gazed down upon them.
"Have you forgotten me?" she said. Then she smiled and they knew her at once. It was the corn-cob doll! Though she had grown so much larger and seemed so much grander, yet she looked just the same as when they had taken her out of Aunt Jane's sandal-wood box from which, the children now remembered, certain tin soldiers and a three-legged wooden horse had also come! The Queen still wore her flowing greeny-yellow gown, her hair was braided in two long braids that hung over her shoulders, and she carried her quaint little head high, in truly royal fashion.
Now she dismounted gracefully from her horse and came toward the children, holding out her hand. They dared not look her in the face. They were all three ashamed to speak to her, and especially Rudolf who remembered only too clearly all the unkind things he had said about the corn-cob doll, and how very, very near he had come to roasting her over the nursery fire! Whatever would happen, thought he, if any of her subjects who seemed to stand in such awe of her, should find out that attempt on their Queen's life? Captain Jinks would probably think imprisonment on bread and water entirely too good for him, probably it would be slow torture.
"Answer her majesty," muttered the captain in his ear, "or I'll have your head cut off!"
Still Rudolf, blushing fiery red, and not knowing what to say, continued to stare down at his toes. Peter put his thumb in his mouth, Ann hung down her head; neither of them was any better off.
The little tin captain stepped eagerly forward. "Shall I give orders to prepare for the execution, your Majesty?" he began, in a voice full of pleased excitement. "These suspicious persons are already under arrest. They would furnish very excellent targets for the artillery practise? If it should please your Majesty to offer a prize for the best shot? Or, if your Majesty is in ahurry, now, a nice dip in boiling oil would finish them off very neatly!"
"Be quiet, Jinks," said the Queen frowning. "You talk so much I can't think. If it wasn't for those tiresome revolutions in my capital city, I believe I'd banish you. Let me see, how many of them have you suppressed for me?"
"Exactly twelve, your Majesty," answered Jinks with a low bow, "and I beg to announce that we are at this moment on the brink of the thirteenth—baker's dozen, your Majesty."
"Oh, it's the baker this time, is it?" asked the Queen with a sigh. "What's the matter withhim, Jinks?"
"Same old trouble, your Majesty. Your court, those doll ladies in particular, have become so haughty—"
"Naughty, you mean, Jinks," corrected the Queen.
"So haughtyandnaughty, your Majesty, that they've absolutely refused to eat their crusts. Did anybody, I ask your Majesty, ever hear the likes of that?"
There was a moment's silence. The Queen shook her head. The children tried to appear at their ease, but they were not. Ann looked particularly uncomfortable. She was not fond of her crusts.
"Well, go on, Jinks, what else?" said the Queen.
"Well, your Majesty, this keeps the baker busy day and night baking 'em bread, not to speak of the cakes and pies, and he says he feels he hadn't orter stand it any longer. He's going to strike. As for the populace, your Majesty, they only get the stale loaves or none at all, and they're wild, your Majesty, very wild indeed."
"I suppose they are, Jinks," sighed the Queen.
"And the worst of it is, your Majesty, we're very short of soldiers. The Commander-in-Chief"—both Jinks and the sergeant drew themselves up and saluted at the name—"has taken a whole company to the seaboard for to repel the cat pirates, and very fierce them pirates are, I've heard tell. We may have to send him reinforcements at any time."
"The Commander-in-Chief, Jinks," said the Queen haughtily, "is a great general. He will manage the pirates and the baker, too, if you can't do it. And if the worst should come to the worst before he gets back, why I'll just abdicate, that's all, and the baker can be king and much good may it do him." She turned to the children and smiled at them. "Now," she said, "you shall come with me and I will show you where I used to live before I was a Queen."
The corn-cob doll waved her hand, gave an order, and immediately the carriage in which sat Marie-Louise and Angelina-Elfrida was turned and driven back to where the children stood.
"These ladies will enjoy a walk," said the Queen.
Very sulkily the two elegant doll-ladies got out of their carriage, not daring to disobey, and passed by Ann, noses in the air, without so much as a nod.
"Never mind them, dears," said the Queen kindly. "They don't know any better. Now jump in!"
The children obeyed, hardly able to believe in their good luck, and in another moment, much to the surprise and indignation of Captain Jinks, they were rolling away from him, the Queen riding close beside their carriage.
"You are safe now," said she, "at least until the revolution begins. If Jinks should fire his cannon, that's a sign it's starting, but don't worry"—as she saw that the children were looking rather alarmed—"I dare say it will blow over without a battle. And now I want you to look about you, for I don't think you have ever seen anything like this before."
They had not indeed, and as their shyness wore off, the children began to ask the Queen a great many questions. Was this her capital city they were coming to? Were those the stores where all the dolls' clothes in the world came from? Was it real water in the little fountain playing in the middle of the square? All this time they were being carried swiftly through the streets of the neatest, prettiest, little, toy town any one could wish to see. Both sides of the main street were lined with little shops, and as the children leaned out of the carriage for a brief glimpse into their glittering windows, they saw sights that made them long to stop and look more closely.
There were clothing shops, shoe shops, candy shops, a very grand-looking milliner's establishment where the children were amused to catch a glimpse of Angelina-Elfrida and Marie-Louise trying on hats, and a gaily decorated doll theater where a crowd of dolls were pushing their way in to see a Punch and Judy show. There were markets where busy customers thronged to buy all sorts and kinds of doll eatables, turkeys and chickens the size of sparrows and humming-birds, yellow pumpkins as big as walnuts, red-cheeked apples like cranberries, cabbages fully as large as the end of your thumb, and freshly baked pies as big around as a penny.
Peter's eyes nearly popped out of his head as he passed all these good things without hope of sampling any of them! The last shop they passed was that of the royal baker, and they noticed that its windows were boarded up, while a crowd of common dolls stood about in front of the door, muttering angrily.
But now the business part of the town was left behind, and the children were being driven through street after street of gaily painted, neatly built, little houses with gardens full of tiny bright-colored flowers, stables, garages—everything complete that the heart of the most exacting doll in the world could desire. Ann and Peter were quite wild about it all, and even Rudolf condescended to admire. Now the houses were left behind and they entered a little park, where tiny artificial lakes glittered and stiff little trees were set about on the bright green grass. In the center of this park stood the doll palace. It was pure white, finished in gold, and had real glass windows in it, and white marble steps leading up to it, and high gilded gates where a guard of soldiers turned out to present arms, and a band was beginning to play. The rest of the procession turned in at the gates of the palace, but rather to the children's disappointment, the Queen gave their coachman orders to drive on.
"You may see my palace afterward, if we have time," she said, "but I want to take you first of all to see my dear old home where I used to live when I was a girl, when the little mother took care of me."
The children looked at one another. Then Peter said boldly: "Was that when you were Aunt Jane's doll? You weren't a Queenthen, were you?"
"No, indeed," answered her majesty, smiling. "I was just an ugly little doll, the happiest, best-loved little doll in all the world, and with the dearest little mother. But here we are, and you shall see for yourself what a snug home I had."
The old doll house looked neat enough from the outside, to be sure, but I am afraid if the children had run across it in the attic at Aunt Jane's they would have taken it for a couple of large packing-boxes set one upon the other. Once inside, however, they forgot how impatient they had been to see the palace and its gorgeous furnishings, they were so interested and amused by the homely furnishings and neat little arrangements so proudly displayed to them by the Corn-cob Queen.
She led the children through one room after another, explaining each thing as they passed it. Those little muslin curtains at the windows, the little mother had hemmed them all herself. It was she who had made that wonderful cradle out of cardboard, with sheets from a pair of grandfather's old pocket-handkerchiefs, she who had pieced that tiniest of tiny patchwork quilts! In the kitchen that neat set of pots and pans made from acorns and the shells of walnuts was the work of her hands, assisted, perhaps, by the penknife of a certain little boy. That blue and white tea-set on the pantry shelves—the children recognized it at once as having come out of the sandal-wood box—why it was almost worn out from the number of cups of tea the old doll and her little mother had taken together in the good old days!
"It's just the dearest little house in the world," sighed Ann, when, after having seen and admired everything to their heart's content, they took their places in the carriage again, "and we don't wonder you love it! The things that come straight from the toy shops are not really half so nice as the things you fix yourself—we understand now. But I suppose," she added thoughtfully, "you find it much grander being a Queen?"
"Grander, perhaps," sighed the corn-cob doll, "but a great deal more of a nuisance. However—"
Just then the pop of a toy cannon interrupted the Queen's speech. They had driven back almost to the palace, and could see a crowd of common dolls of all kinds and sizes gathering on the green in front of the gilded gates. At the same moment a troop of soldiers, headed by the little tin captain, came running from the direction of the town evidently with the intention of putting a stop to the disturbance.
"The revolution," said the Queen calmly, "just as I expected. Now I am afraid I shall have to send you out of town."
"But why?" Rudolf began in his arguing voice. "We don'twantto go. We want to stay and fight on your side, and I'm sure we'd be very useful! Why I'd just as lief command your army as not, and—"
"Thank you very much," said the Corn-cob Queen, "but what would Captain Jinks say to that? He is in command, you know. And if heshouldfail me, why the Commander-in-Chief will soon be back from capturing the cat pirates."
"Who is this fellow you call the Commander-in-Chief, anyway?" Rudolf interrupted crossly.
The Queen looked him straight in the eye. "I hope," she said, "that you may all be allowed to see him some day, if you are good. He is agreatsoldier. He never sulks, and always obeys without asking questions. That is more than some little boys do." Rudolf hung his head, and the Queen added hastily: "But now I see that Captain Jinks and the baker are going to hold a conference. I must go and join them. Your coachman will drive you out of town the back way. Now where would you like to go?"
"Back to our Aunt Jane, please," said Ann quickly. "Can you tell us the way?"
"No," said the Queen, "I mustn't, but I have a friend who is a dream-keeper just over the border, and I think he may be able to help you. I'll tell the coachman to drive you there. Now good-by!"
"Good-by, good-by!" called the children. The coachman touched up the horses, they were whirled away in a cloud of dust through which they looked back regretfully at the queenly figure on the little wooden horse who waved her hand again and again in kindly farewell. They saw her joined by Captain Jinks and by a stout person in a white cap and apron who handed the Queen what seemed to be some kind of document printed upon a large sheet of pie crust.
"That was the Baker, I guess," said Rudolf, "and I dare say what he was handing her was the declaration of war! Oh, what a shame it is we are going to miss all the fun!"
"And the refreshments," sighed Peter. "Wealwaysdo! I never did taste a declarashun of war, but it looked awful good. The very next time I see one, I'm going to—"
But what Peter was going to do Ann and Rudolf did not hear, for at that moment they were all three nearly spilled out of the little carriage by the furious rate at which their driver turned a corner. They had left the dolls' city far behind them and were out on the long brown road that led past the little tent where the children had been arrested by Jinks and the sergeant. Now they were out in the open country hurrying past the wonderful bright-colored plains, past fields of pink and purple, blue and green and yellow, white and scarlet, faster and faster all the time, the horses rushing along with such curious irregular jerks and bounds that it was almost impossible for the children to keep their seats, and they expected at each moment to be dumped in the middle of the road.
"Look out!" shouted Rudolf to the coachman. "Don't you see you are going to upset us?"
The coachman was a very grand-looking person in a white and gold livery. He never even turned his powdered head as he shouted back:
"Didn't have no—or-ders—not—to!" And for some time they tore on faster than ever.
At last Ann leaned forward and caught hold of one of the coachman's little gold-embroidered coat tails. "Oh, do take care," she cried, "you might run somebody down!"
"That's it,"—the coachman's voice sounded faint and jerky, and the children could hardly catch the words that floated back to them: "Running—down—run-ing—down! As—fast—as—ev-er—I—can. Most—com-pli-cated—insides—in—all—the—king-dom. Can't—be —wound—up—not—by—likes—of—you—"
The horses were no longer galloping, now they were slowing up, now they stopped, but with such a sudden jerk that all three children were tumbled out into the road. They had been expecting this to happen for so long that the thing was not such a shock after all, and somehow they landed without being hurt in the slightest. They picked themselves up, and saw the little carriage standing at the side of the road, the horses perfectly motionless, each with a forefoot raised in the air, the coachman stiff and still upon his box,gazingstraight in front of him.
"He'll stay like that," said Peter mournfully, rubbing the dust from his knees, "till he's wound up again. I wish we had the key!"
"I wish we did," said Rudolf crossly. "You know what Betsy says about—'If wishes were horses, beggars could ride'—well, they aren't, so we've got to walk now. I wonder where we are?"
Looking around them, the children saw that they had come to the very last of the many colored fields, where the brown road ended in a stretch of creamy-yellow grass. Just beyond a thick woods began, but was divided from the creamy field by a broad bright strip of color, like a long flower bed planted with flowers of all kinds and colors set in all sorts of different patterns—stars, triangles, diamonds, and squares.
"That's the border," shouted Ann, "and over there somewhere we'll find the person the Queen said would help us get back to Aunt Jane. Come on!" As she spoke she bounded off across the field, the two boys after her, and in less time than it takes to tell it they had run through the tall yellow grass, jumped the border, and stood upon the edge of the wood.
A thin screen of bushes was all that hid from the children's eyes the people whose voices they could hear so plainly.
"Maybe it's some kind of picnic they're having in there," cried Peter, pushing eagerly forward. "Come on quick!"
"No, you don't, either," whispered Rudolf, catching him and holding him back. "Don't let's get caught this time, let's peep through first and see what the people are like."
"Yes, do let's be careful," pleaded Ann. "We don't want to get arrested again, it's not a bit nice—though I suppose if this is where the Queen's friend lives, it isn't likely anything so horrid will happen to us."
"Do stop talking, Ann, and listen. Whoever they are in there, they are making so much noise they can't possibly hear me, so I'm going to creep into those bushes and see what I can see."
As he spoke Rudolf carefully parted the bushes at a spot where they were thin and peeped between the leaves, Ann and Peter crowding each other to see over his shoulder. They looked into a kind of open glade not much larger than a good-sized room and walled on all sides by tall trees and thick underbrush. It had a flooring of soft green turf, and about in the middle lay a great rock as large as a playhouse. This rock was all covered over with moss and lichens, and the strange thing about it was that a neat door had been cut in its side. Before this door, talking and waving his hands to the crowd that thronged about him, stood a man—the queerest little man the children had ever seen! He looked like a collection of stout sacks stuffed very tightly and tied firmly at the necks. One sack made his head, another larger one his body, four more his arms and legs. His broad face, though rather dull, wore a good-humored expression, and he smiled as he looked about him.
A pile of empty sacking-bags lay on the ground beside him, and from time to time he caught up one of these, ran his eye over the crowd, chose one of them, and popped him, or it, as it happened to be, into the sack which he then swung on his shoulder and heaved into the open doorway in the big rock, where it disappeared from sight. He would then taken another sack and make a fresh selection, looking about him all the while with sleepy good humor, and paying little if any attention to the cries, questions, and complaints with which he was attacked on all sides.
What a funny lot they were—this crowd that surrounded the little man! The children could hardly smother their excitement at the sight of them. Not people or animals only were they, but all kinds of odd objects also, such as no one could expect to see running about loose. A Birthday Cake was there, with lighted candles; a little pile of neatly darned socks and stockings, a white-cotton Easter Rabbit with pink pasteboard ears, a Jolly Santa Claus, a smoking hot Dinner, a Nice Nurse who rocked a smiling baby, a brown-faced grinning Organ-Man, his organ strapped before him, his Monkey on his shoulder. There were too many by far for the children to take in all at once, but at the sight of one particular member of the crowd, the children gasped with astonishment; and Peter's excitement nearly betrayed them. There, lounging by the side of a mild-faced School-Mistress Person, still smoking his chocolate cigarette, was—the False Hare!
"Look alive now!" the little man was crying out. "Who's next, who's next?"
"Me, me, me—take me next, Sandy!" A dozen little voices cried this at one and the same time. There was a scramble, bursts of laughter, followed by a sharp rebuke from Sandy. "No, you don't either. Stand back, you small fry. No shoving!"
When Peter had seen and recognized the False Hare he had been so excited that it had been almost impossible for Rudolf and Ann to keep him quiet. Now, as he watched the scramble and the rush and the fuss the funny crowd was making about the little man, he laughed out so loud that it was too late even to pinch him. The children's presence was discovered, and two, tall, silver candlesticks jumped from a satin-lined box and ran to draw them into the middle of the glade. Sandy, as the little man appeared to be called, paused in his business, turned round, and smiled at the children.
"Now then," said he, "what are you doing here? Don't you know this is my busy night? Who are you, anyway? Not on my list, I'll warrant. Who's dreams are you?"
"Nobody's," began Rudolf. "The Corn-cob Queen sent us to see if you could tell us any way to get back to our Aunt Jane—"
"Nobody's?" interrupted the little man. "Did you say you were Nobody's dreams? Don't see him in the N's." And he took a printed list out of his pocket and ran his eye anxiously over it. "Are you sure—"
"Please, he means we're not dreams," said Ann, stepping forward, "at least we don't think so." She hesitated a second and then added: "It depends on what happens to them. Are these all dreams?"
"All perfectly Good Dreams, or my name's not Sandman," answered the baggy fellow briskly. "We don't handle the Bad Ones here, not us!"
Peter looked interested. "Where does the Bad Ones live?" he asked. "I wants to see them."
The Sandman shook his head at Peter. "Oh, no, you don't, little boy," he said. "No, you don't! Don't you go meddling in their direction or you'll get into trouble, take my word for it. They live way off in the woods and they're a bad lot. They've got a worse boss than old Sandy! No, no;—the good kind are trouble enough for me. What with the hurry and the flurry and the general mix-up, something a little off color will slip in now and then. Everybody makes mistakessometimes!"
As he made this last remark Sandy cast a doubtful look at the False Hare, who grinned and tipped his silk hat to him.
"I told Sandyallabout myself," said the False Hare, winking at the children. "I told him I was just as good as I could be!"
The children could not help laughing. "I'm afraid you don't know him as well as we do, Mr. Sandy," said Ann.
"Oh, I know about as much as I want to know about him," said Sandy, pretending to frown very fiercely. "I've almost made up my mind to get rid of him, but the truth is I don't really know just where he belongs."
"Doesn't matter tomewhether I spend the night with a bald-headed old gentleman or a bird-dog—all the same tome," said the False Hare meekly. This speech sounded so like him that the children looked at one another and burst out laughing again, at which the False Hare gave a kind of solemn wink, sighed, and touched his eyes with a little paper handkerchief he held gracefully in one paw.
The Sandman turned his back on the silly fellow, and went on with his explanations to the children: "We have a very select set of customers," he said, "and it's our aim to supply 'em with the finest line of goods on the market. Wears me to a frazzle sometimes, this business does," he stopped to wipe from his brow a tiny stream of sand that was trickling down it, "but I've got to keep at it! All the folks, big and little, like Good Dreams, and want 'em every night, and if they get mixed up or the quality's inferior, or there's not enough to go around, I tell you what, it makes trouble for Sandy! But just step a little nearer, and you shall see for yourselves how the whole thing is managed."
The children followed Sandy, who walked back to the pile of empty sacks, picked one up, compared the label on it with a name on his list, and called out in a loud voice: "Mrs. Patrick O'Flynn, Wash Lady—excellent character—never misses on a Monday—six children—husband not altogether satisfactory. Here, now, Noddy—Blink! I'll want some help, boys."
As he called out these two names, two very fat, sleepy boys, looking like pillows with strings tied round their waists, slouched from behind the rock where they had been waiting, and stood sulkily at attention. There was a scramble and a rush and a fuss among the Good Dreams, just as there had been before when the children first peeped into the glade, each one struggling and pushing and crowding to get ahead of the next, without any regard as to whether or not it was wanted. It took a tremendous effort on the part of Sandy, together with all the help the sleepy sulky boys would give, to get the right collection of dreams into the Wash Lady's sack, and to keep the wrong ones out.
"Letter from the Old Country," Sandy cried. "That's it, boys, more lively there. Tell that Pound of Tea to step up—No, no pink silk stockings to-day, thank you. Tell that Landlord the rent's paid, I'll let him know when he's wanted. Hand over that pile of mended clothing—and the pay envelope, mind it's the right amount—all the rest of you, step aside!" Waving away a gay bonnet with a bird on it, a bottle marked "Patent Medicine," and the persistent pink stockings, the Sandman closed the mouth of Mrs. O'Flynn's sack, and swung it on his shoulder, nodding to the children to watch what would happen. Much excited, they crowded round the open door in the side of the big rock and peered down into what seemed to be a kind of dark well with a toboggan-slide descending into it. Sandy placed the Wash Lady's sack at the top of the slide, and before the children could so much as wink, it had slid off into the darkness and disappeared from sight.
"Oh, my!" cried Ann, "Is it a shoot-the-chutes? Does it bump when it gets there?"
"No, no," said the Sandman. "No bumps whatsoever, the most comfortable kind of traveling I know, in fact you're there the same time you start, and I'd like to know how you can beat that? I ought to know, for I use this route myself on my rounds a little earlier in the evening." He walked back to his pile of sacks, and picked up another of them. "Now then," said he, examining the label, "who's next? Aha—Miss Jane Mackenzie!"
The children could hardly believe their ears. "Oh, Ruddy," whispered Ann in Rudolf's ear, "what kind of dreams do you suppose Aunt Jane will get?"
"Sh! Listen, he's going to tell us," answered Rudolf.
The Sandman was gravely consulting his list. "M-hm—Cook-that-likes-living-in-the-Country! Step this way, ma'am, and don't take any more room than you can help. New Non-fadable Cheap but Elegant Parlor Curtains—One Able-bodied Intelligent Gardener, with a Generous Disposition—hurry the gentleman forward, boys, he's a curiosity! What's next? Aha! One niece, two nephews—three perfectly good children." Sandy paused, stared about him at the throng of jumping, pushing dreams—then added: "Don't see 'em."
"Why, yes you do!" Ann was pulling impatiently at the Sandman's sleeve—"Here you are." Then she turned to Rudolf and whispered excitedly: "Don't you see? We must make the Sandman believe we are Aunt Jane's Good Dreams, and then he'll send us back to her."
"I'd like a ride on that slide, all right!" returned Rudolf.
"But I doesn't want to go back to Aunt Jane yet," came the voice of Peter clearly from behind them. "I shan't go till I've seen the Bad Dreams."
"Nonsense!" Rudolf turned round on him angrily. "Of course you'll go. You're the youngest, and you'vegotto mind us." And then without paying any more attention to Peter, Rudolf thrust himself in front of the Sandman. "Here we are," he said. "We're all ready."
The Sandman looked the boy up and down, consulted his list again, smiled and shook his head very doubtfully.
"I'm sorry," he said, "but I'm afraid you don't exactly answer. Just listen to this." And he read aloud: "Number one. Boy: polite and gentlemanly in manner—brown hair neatly smoothed and parted—Eton suit, clean white collar, boots well polished—Latin grammar under arm—"
He stopped. Rudolf, in his pajamas, with his ruffled locks, tin sword, and angry expression, did not answer very closely to this description. The Cook-who-liked-living-in-the-Country, the Gardener-with-the-Generous-Disposition, and several other Good Dreams burst out laughing. Only the False Hare kept a solemn expression, but Rudolf knew very well whatthatmeant.
The Sandman continued: "Number two. Little girl: modest and timid in her manners, not apt to address her elders until spoken to—hair braided neatly and tied with blue ribbon—white apron over dark dress—doing patchwork with a pleased expression. Has not forgotten thimble—"
Here Sandy was interrupted by the Cook and the Gardener, who declared that if he didn't stop they'd die a-laughin', that they would! The False Hare wiped away a tear, and none of the dreams seemed to consider the description correct. Sandy shook his head again, as he glanced at Ann in her nighty, her ruffled curls tumbling over her flushed face—Ann without patchwork, thimble, or pleased expression!
"Afraid you won't do, miss," said he, looking quite sorry for her. "Let's see what's next. Number three"—he read—"Very small boy: clean blue sailor suit—white socks—looks sorry for—"
All turned to look at Peter, but Peter was not looking sorry for anything—Peter was not there! Ann gave a hasty look all round the glade, then burst into tears.
"Oh, Rudolf," she cried, "what shall we do? He's gone—he's slipped away to find those Bad Dreams all by himself—you know how Peter is, when he says he's going to do anything, hewilldo it. Oh, oh, Ioughtto have watched him!"
"Don't cry," said Rudolf hastily. "It's just as much my fault. You stay here and I'll go fetch him back. I have my sword, you know."
"No, no," sobbed Ann. "Don't leave me. It was my fault—I promised mother I would always look after Peter. We'll go together. The Sandman will tell us where the Bad Dreams live, won't you?" she added, turning to Sandy.
"There, there, of course I will," said the little man kindly. "I'd go along with you, if there wasn't such a press of business just now, but you can see for yourselves what a mess things would be in if I should leave. You must go right ahead, right into the thick of the woods. Follow that path on the other side of the glade. You needn't be afraid you'll miss those Bad Ones—they'll be on the lookout for you, I'm afraid."
The children thanked Sandy for all his kindness, and turned to leave him. "One moment," he cried, and he ran ahead of them to draw aside the wall of prickly bushes and show them the little path he had spoken of which wound from the Good Dreams' glade toward the heart of the wood.
"Keep right on," said Sandy, "and don't be afraid. Remember—they're a queer lot, those fellows, but they can't hurt you if you are careful. Don't answer 'em back and don't ask 'em too many questions. One thing in particular—if they offer you anything to eat, don't taste a mouthful of it. If you do it'll be the worse for you!"
Rudolf and Ann thought of Peter and his passion for "refreshments", and they started hastily forward.
"Justonething more," called Sandy after them. "About that consignment of your aunt's, you know! I'll hold that over till you get back, and we'll see what can be done. Maybe we can fit you in yet, somehow. Now good-by, and good luck to you!"
"Good-by, and thank you!" Rudolf and Ann called back to him, and then they plunged into the path. The wall of bushes sprang back again behind them, and cut them off from the shelter of the Good Dreams' glade. As the path was very narrow, Rudolf walked first, sword drawn, and Ann trotted behind him, trying not to think of what queer things might be waiting behind the trees to jump out at them, trying only to think of her naughty Peter, and how glad she would be to see him again.