“No!” he sighed solemnly—“I s’pose not. I ought to have left Rug long ago.”
“But then you couldn’t have helped me,” said Peg brightly. “Let’s don’t think about it any more. You’ve been awfully good to me, Wag.”
“Have I?” said Wag more cheerfully. “Well, you’re a good sort, Peg—a regular Princess!” he finished, puffing out his chest, “and anything you say goes.”
“Princess?” laughed the Wooden Doll, pleased nevertheless. “I’m a funny Princess, in this old dress. Did you ever hear of a wooden Princess, Wag?”
“You look like a Princess to me,” said the rabbit stoutly. “Dresses don’t matter.”
This speech so tickled the Wooden Doll that she gave Wag a good hug and began dancing again. “Being alive is such fun!” she called gaily over her shoulder, “and you are so wonderful!”
Wag’s chest expanded at least three inches and his whiskers trembled with emotion. “Hop on my back Peg and I’ll take you anywhere you want to go,” he puffed magnificently.
But the Wooden Doll had suddenly grown sober. “Wherever is the castle?” she cried anxiously. She remembered exactly where it had stood when she was an unalive doll and now not a tower or turret of the castle was to be seen. “Oh!” groaned Peg Amy, “Ruggedo has done something dreadful with his Mixed Magic!”
Wag rubbed his eyes and looked all around. “Why, it’s gone!” he cried, waving his paws. “What shall we do? If only we weren’t so small!”
“We’ve got the magic box,” said Peg hopefully, “and somehow I don’t feel as small as I used to feel; do you?”