Chapter VI
Maida began to think the disconsolate lover was mistaken about finding the “Lady” soon. There seemed to be no sign of her. And they walked and walked and walked. At last, in the distance, they saw a house. Not a great big fine house such as Maida lived in at home, but a low hut built of heavy logs with a slanting roof and a high chimney with lots of smoke coming out of it. The wolf passed by the house without stopping for it was in a hurry to go somewhere and get something cool to drink, but the disconsolate lover knocked loudly on the door.
“I wonder if the lady lives here,” said Maida. The disconsolate lover knocked again, and again, and finally the door swung open and they all walked in. They were in a toy shop. The house looked—oh, ever so much larger now that they were in, than it did from the outside. There were long rooms filled with toys and dollies. There were benches and shelves where toys were being made by funny little men. The walls and rafters were hung with all sorts of jumping-jacks and—oh, everything children like.
The lad who opened the door stood looking at them. He was dressed all in leather and his hair hung over his neck. Maida was sure she had never seen such a nice friendly looking boy. “My name is Billy,” he said. “Whose little boy are you?” “If you please,” replied Maida, “I’m not a boy—I’m a little girl,” and she threw open her long fur cloak so he could see what a pretty dress she wore. At once all the little workmen stopped work and crowded about her, for strange as it may seem they had hardly ever seen a little girl. Maida was quite frightened and looked about for the Man with the Growly Voice—or the Disconsolate Lover, but as neither of them were in sight she ran to Billy for protection and cuddled in his arms. “What’s the matter with them?” she faltered. Billy laughed. “They’re curious to see you,” he replied, “because you’re a little girl.” “Little girls must be scarce up here,” observed Maida (still nestling close to Billy). Billy laughed again. “Scarce,” he said, “why I should say they are!” So he sent the workmen back to their benches and gave Maida all the ice-cream she could eat for breakfast. It was good ice-cream too, still—just for once she wouldn’t have minded if she could have had a cup of coffee and a slice of bacon. After breakfast Billy showed her all over the shop, and she was allowed to see the workmen making toys. When they returned to the great room who should they meet but a huge Eskimo and his pretty little daughter, both dressed entirely in furs.
The Eskimo was very grand. “I am Kankakee,” he said, and waving his hand toward his daughter added, “this is Kokomo, my daughter,” upon which Kokomo came to Maida and made a lovely curtsey saying something that sounded like—well I can hardly tell you just what it was like. Did you ever hear an angry old hen calling her chickens? Well it was something like that, and something like the rattle on the trolley car when the man lets off the brake—for poor little Kokomo could not speak English—only Eskimo.
“So you’re an Eskimo,” said Maida, “can you tell me about the Wishing Post?”
The big Eskimo drew himself up proudly. “I can tell you all about it,” he replied, “for I am a great man, and very wise, also I know many things. The Wishing Post grows out of the earth at the Top of the World and if one makes a wish upon it the wish will come true.”
Maida was overjoyed. “I am going to make a wish just as soon as I find it,” she told him. “You find it!” he said scornfully, “why it is death for mortal to try to cross the Forbidden Land, to reach the city of Illusia. Even I have never crossed those icy wastes, and should you find the Post you would be put to death by the Queen of the North, Aurora Borealis, or her Prime Minister, Jack Frost. Look!” and he pointed out of the window, “you can see the lights shining from her crown—when she is pleased the light is white; when she is jealous it is green. When she is sad the light is blue, and when she is angry the light is red.” At this moment a huge stream of red light waved about and cast a red glow over all the room.
“My goodness!” said Maida, “she must be in a dreadful temper to-day!” But the Eskimo and his daughter only drew their fur robes about them and walked away. Maida would have followed them to find out some more but she ran plump into the roundest, jolliest, old man you ever saw. He wore a long green coat and big leather boots, and his long hair and beard were snow-white. Oh, he was so fat and so jolly! His face was red and chubby and he had the nicest smile; he reminded her of some one but she couldn’t think just who it was. He was very much surprised to see Maida. “Well, well!” he shouted, “a little girl. Come sit on my knee, my dear, and tell me all about it.”