And then she told the following story:—
Some time before, a ship had been wrecked on the coast of Toyland, and all its passengers drowned except King Selim. He had been brought to Dolltown, and, because he was a king, Queen Rosebud had given him a set of rooms in her palace, where he had lived very comfortably ever since.
“What was he King of?” asked Peggy.
Mrs. Noah hesitated. “I really don’t know, dear,” she said. “Do you know, Wooden?”
“No,” said Wooden. “I never thought of asking.”
It seemed that nobody else had ever thought of asking either. They knew he must be a king because he said he was. Besides, he wore a crown. Everybody was very sorry for him, because his Queen had been drowned when the ship had been wrecked, but when some time had passed and he had got over that, he had become rather interfering, and he was not so much liked now as he had been, especially by the Waxes. For although all the dolls in Toyland generally lived happily together, still there was always apt to be a little feeling between the Waxes and the Woodens. The Waxes thought the Woodens were rather common, and the Woodens thought the Waxes were rather stuck up.
“Of course, speaking for myself,” said Mrs. Noah, “I’ve never had no quarrel with a Wax in my life, and, if I may say so, have as many friends among the Waxes as I have among the Woodens.”
She looked at Lady Grace, who said, “The Queen has always disliked having anything said against the Woodens, and has often told me that if she had not been born Wax she would have liked to be born Wood.”
There were murmurs of approbation at this speech, and Wooden’s mother said, “Wax is as wax does, I always say. If all was as polite as the Queen, there wouldn’t be no trouble at all. But you haven’t told us about the Queen’s health yet, Mrs. Noah.”
“Well,” said Mrs. Noah, “it’s my belief that the Queen is dead.”