"How nice they look!" the Toyman murmured, "all a wavin' in the wind."
"And there's soldiers in the streets, with helmets on their heads, an' spears, an' things--"
"You bet--an' you kin hear the silver shoes of their horses on the cobbles--"
"What kind of cobbles?"
The Toyman thought a moment--
"Oh, let me see--wh-h-y, I'd say they were all cut outo' agate like your shooters--leastways they look like that at this distance. An' the sidewalks, of course, are of gold--a blind man could tell that--"
"What else?" demanded Marmaduke, a little out of breath, and dazzled by all this sudden glory.
"Oh, a lot else--" the Toyman replied, "for one thing, the door-knobs in all the castles are silver--but then that's nothin'--silver's so common even their frying-pans are made outo' that. But you ought to see their lamp-posts in the street. Their poles are built of ivory from the tusks of elephants of the first water; an' the glass on top is nothing but rubies--"
"Whew!" exclaimed Marmaduke, "that's a great city."
"Yes," added the Toyman, "it's a great city."