“My daughter Kokomo is the child of a chief and it is fitting that she should know all things. She should be taught by a great wizard like you.” (You see Kankakee thought the Man with the Growly Voice was a wizard because he had bottled up the Tropical Climate.) “Take my daughter, therefore, into your tribe and teach her your magic, and I will guide you—refuse, and you will never find the way.”
Then Kalam-Azoo and Wis-Consin and Neva-Da all nodded their heads and repeated, “Never find the way.”
Well, of course, Maida was delighted, for she knew Kokomo liked her, and wanted her for a playmate; but the Man with the Growly Voice was dumbfounded, for he had never paid any attention to Kokomo or noticed her; in fact, he did not know she was Kankakee’s daughter. So he turned to Kankakee and said, “How old is your daughter?”
“She has seen fourteen days, and fourteen nights,” replied Kankakee with dignity.
“Fourteen days and fourteen nights,” echoed the Man with the Growly Voice, in amazement. “My goodness—you don’t want a teacher for her, you want a nurse. I don’t mind adopting a little girl or so, but I certainly object to search for the North Pole wheeling a baby in a perambulator.”
Maida laughed and pushed Kokomo out from behind her father. “Here’s the baby,” she laughed. “Don’t you remember up here the days and nights are six months long?”
So Kankakee agreed to risk his life and guide them all across the Forbidden Land, while the Man with the Growly Voice agreed to teach Kokomo all his magic and to make friends with her. He searched through his pockets, found an apple, and gave it to her.
She examined it carefully. “How shall I wear it?” she inquired.
Maida laughed and explained—“It isn’t to wear, it’s to eat.” So Kokomo took a bite and liked it. Then Kankakee took a bite and liked it, and the apple didn’t last very long.
“I never saw anything like that before,” observed Kokomo (meaning the apple). “How did it come to be?”