A strange sight met their eyes. In the street below were moving back and forth a myriad of little carts, each drawn by one horse, and presided over by a jumping-jack. But wonderful to relate, instead of shoveling up the snow and carrying it away, the drivers were unloading it as fast as they could and spreading it over everything. Down the road and as far as she could see, the child beheld a company of Sign Posts that were mounted on huge ladders and busily engaged in sprinkling the snow over the tops and branches of the stiff little trees. They also hung numbers of glittering icicles on the boughs and twigs.
Without waiting to see any more, Sally dressed with the greatest possible haste and flew to find her own especial Sign Post. Him she found waiting patiently in the hall below, and in response to her eager queries, he explained that, as Sally already knew, the temperature in Toyland never varied. Therefore there was neither rain nor real snow. The snow that now lay thickly spread over everything was manufactured by the Wizard, who alone knew how to make it.
“So you see,” concluded the Sign Post, “we can have winter whenever Their Majesties wish for a sleigh ride.”
They were walking along the garden path by this time, the crisp snow crunching under their feet. Sally thought that Toyland had never looked so beautiful as now, with every tree and roof sparkling with the glittering snow crystals. The child picked up a few icicles and put them carefully into her pocketbook for future reference. She felt very much puzzled to see such a topsy-turvy state of affairs as existed in Toyland. The idea of snow being shoveled out of carts instead of being shoveled into them! She could but reflect, however, that a snow storm in the nursery must have been planned and executed under very nearly the same circumstances.
“To be sure, they are only a lot of dolls,” she said to herself. “No wonder that the Wizard is able to deceive them in so many ways.”
“What becomes of all this stuff?” just then demanded Bedelia. She had been digging down into the snow with much vigor and had promptly discovered that it was neither cold nor wet.
“The snow,” replied the Sign Post with dignity, “is the property of the Wizard. When it has lain here for what he considers a proper length of time, his servants gather it up and cart it away and it is stored up for future use.”
Just then a great jingling of bells was heard and a huge sleigh came swinging up the driveway. In it was seated no less a personage than the Polly-nosed Saphead himself, wrapped in furs and evidently in a great state of pleasurable excitement.
The poll parrot was perched on the back of the seat, while much to Sally’s dismay the ugly heads of the two gargoyles appeared poking up from among the fur robes.
“Come for a sleigh ride,” cried the parrot before the Wizard had time to move or speak. “Come for a sleigh ride, a sleigh ride, a sleigh ride!” and she would no doubt have kept on repeating the invitation indefinitely had not one of the gargoyles suddenly reared up on the back seat and made a grab for her brilliant tail. Whereupon the Wizard felt obliged to interfere and it was some time before peace was restored and the great man descended with as much pomp and ceremony as the circumstances permitted.