Now if Frip had chanced to sit down on a hornet and the hornet had got mad about it, it would certainly have made him jump, but nothing to what the remarks of the Cannibal Chief did. Indeed they almost froze him stiff and his eyes fairly popped out of his head.
"Eh?" he gasped—"why—what—say—why you—you don't mean to eat—eat me?"
"If you will join us at dinner—yes," said the Cannibal Chief, politely. "But of course if you have another dinner engagement—"
"I have," put in Frip, hastily, "I have a whole lot of 'em. And—and I'm not a bit hungry, so I simply could not join you at dinner."
"Well, supper then, or breakfast," responded the Cannibal Chief. "We'll call it whatever you want. We'll even call it a little side snack, if you wish. You surely can't have engagements for every one of those things."
"Yes, I have," said the Prince, desperately, edging away. "I have engagements for everything, day and night. I haven't a second to spare. And besides, my father, the Emperor of Fizz, is waiting for me to take a walk and if you stop me he'll—he'll put you in prison."
"Pooh," put in the Gingerbread Man, suddenly, "his father isn't here."
"I didn't say he was," replied Frip, "but he's waiting for me at home."
"Oh, at home, eh?" said the Cannibal Chief. "Well, that's quite another matter. Lots of things are waiting at home. No doubt a taxicab is waiting for your father outside his palace. And I dare say there's a woodpile in your backyard waiting for you to do some chopping. And your mother, no doubt, is waiting for you to come back. And the hired girl is probably waiting on the table. But here, nothing waits. So you and your friend, the Gingerbread Man, kindly back up against that real estate sign and let the fire grill you a little. We don't care for cold meals."
Well, you can easily imagine in what frame of mind the Prince was when he heard that. Here was a fine ending to his adventure. When he had asked for a desert island he had expected to have an exciting time of it but not this sort.