Picking up the Handkerchief Man, she shook him vigorously, but as he refused to revive, while every bit of him flopped unpleasantly, she presently propped him up against a tree and started off by herself, resolved to investigate the queer bit of woods which nobody ever found without first losing himself.
“The very idea of a handkerchief behaving like that!” she said to herself as she trotted along, keeping an eye open for the button bush concerning which she had already heard. But no sign of it appeared, neither did she find herself any nearer to the road. On the contrary, she seemed to be getting deeper and deeper into the woods. The trees grew closer and closer together, while the bushes seemed thicker and thicker. At last it seemed that there was no longer even a little path between the dense growths and that if she wished to proceed further, she must push her way through. As she paused for a moment to consider, something small and very hard struck her smartly on the nose. This blow was followed up by another and another. Thoroughly astonished, she stopped and picked up one of the missiles that lay shining directly at her feet. Then she uttered a little exclamation of joy:
“The Button Bush!” she cried excitedly.
“Yes, the Button Bush,” retorted a voice above her head, and the Bush shook itself again indignantly, sending a shower of the buttons of all sizes and descriptions pelting over the little girl.
“If you please,” began Sally rather timidly, “if you please, have you seen the Doughnut Man anywhere about?”
Just as she spoke a queer looking figure came swiftly around from the other side of the bush. Sally saw that its body was composed of large, puffy doughnuts, while his head and limbs were formed of the same edibles in smaller sizes. It was almost staggering under the weight of a great basket of buttons that it was lugging along, while its round eyes, which consisted of two plump raisins, seemed popping out of its head with the exertion.
“He looks good to me. I wonder how he tastes,” said Sally to herself, involuntarily taking a step forward. But the Doughnut Man, holding his basket of buttons firmly in front of himself as if it were a shield, advanced smiling and not at all as if he had any idea of being devoured.
“I beg your pardon, but did you happen to see the Peppermint Stick anywhere hereabouts?” he inquired politely.
“No, but I found the Handkerchief Man. He fainted,” returned Sally promptly. “I couldn’t bring him to and I was afraid to shake him any more for fear he would come untied, and then he would have been nothing but a plain handkerchief. So I propped him up against a tree and left him. No doubt he is all right by this time. Would you like to go back and see?”