"'Llo, Toyman," replied the little boy, and his voice sounded very small and very weak.
The Toyman sat by the bed a while. Then he got up and stirred the fire. Showers of pretty gold and red sparks scampered up the chimney. After that he spread a paper on the floor, not far from the fire-place.
Then his pockets he searched, those big pockets which Mother said were always like five and ten cent stores, they were so full of things.
Out came some pieces of wood. Out came his knife—that magic knife with the five blades. Marmaduke was always glad when he saw that knife for then something nice was sure to happen.
Up came the big blade and snapped back. And the Toyman began to whittle, whittle away. Sometimes he used the big blade, sometimes the small one.
Marmaduke watched him, all eyes.
And as the Toyman whittled sometimes he whistled, and sometimes he sang a funny song in a funny voice. You see he could make rhymes as well as toys.
And this is what he sang:
THE TOYMAN'S SONG
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