A Little Maid in Toyland

by Adah Louise Sutton

Fond as she was of the little bear, at that moment it seemed to Sally that it could not exist in any sort of comfort without making somebody else miserable. So she said very gently,

“Would you kindly tell me what land we are in?”

She felt quite sure that the Sign Post was waiting for her to open the conversation.

An expression of surprise flitted over the mobile countenance of the Sign Post, but he replied without further comment, “This is the wonderful country of Toyland,” and then murmured in a reminiscent manner, “Five miles to the Palace. Five miles to the Palace.” After a moment he added, “Perhaps it will be just as well for us to be moving without more delay. It is quite a long way for you to walk.”

So all three got upon their feet and cheerfully resumed their travels.

The country, although very fresh and green, seemed to the little girl rather monotonous. The same cows, pigs and sheep, the same stiff little wooden houses, fenced in by the same stiff wooden railings. People seemed few, but as it was not far from noon, Sally concluded that they must all be eating their dinners. And a very sensible conclusion it was. The few folk that were encountered were of the wooden doll type, and they all appeared to be so very busy at their work in the fields that Sally forbore to hail them, although she would dearly have liked to stop long enough to pass the time of day with them.

So the three proceeded, chatting merrily, the Sign Post accommodating his long, swinging stride to the shorter steps of his small companions. An exchange of confidences was, of course, the natural thing, and Sally was soon giving a complete account of herself and Bedelia and of how they had happened to stumble into Toyland. The Sign Post listened with attention, and in return gave much valuable information concerning both himself and the country. He explained that there were many other Sign Posts like himself, that they were stationed at intervals of five miles, and that it was their duty to conduct as well as to direct strangers, should they so desire. He also explained that there was no night in Toyland, as it was a very difficult and expensive business to start up the sun, which in consequence was allowed to go on shining ad libitum.

“Whenever anyone feels in need of rest or repairs, he takes a trip to Sleepy Town. It lies just over there and adjoining our own country. There it is always night, the moon shines perpetually, and everything invites slumber.”

Here the Sign Post yawned in so fearful a manner that Sally, gazing on his open countenance, decided that he might very well be a candidate for Sleepy Town.