_Through the Wonderful Wood_
The moment Bab stepped inside the outer fringe of trees she seemed
to be in the densest sort of a forest. As she looked about her,
bewildered, she could not even see where she had entered it. The trees
and bushes seemed to have closed in tightly behind her, and vines and
creepers covered with queer sweet flowers crossed and recrossed the
path, and appeared to be growing denser every second. Then, as she
glanced ahead, she saw that there was no path at all. She was in the
very heart of the wildest of woodland tangles. How should she find her
way out? And who would point out to her the road to Santa Claus’s house?
“I wish Wiggles were here!” sighed Bab. “I’m sure there are bears and
wolves in this big dark forest, and Wiggles could have frightened them
away!”
Then she thought of what Bizzybuzz had said in the nursery when he was
trying to teach them how to make believe.
“Wouldn’t it be funny if Wiggles really _were_ with me all the time?”
she thought; and aloud she said, “Here, Wiggles, Wiggles, Wiggles!”
But there was no response, and, feeling a little disappointed, she
walked on through the Wonderful Wood alone.
It was very still. Not a twig snapped; not a bird sang in the Wonderful
Wood. Everything seemed to be asleep. She pushed forward through the
thickets, saying to herself: “I must find Santa Claus! I must not
forget what Mother Goose said! I must not forget my errand!”
It was hard work, this struggling through the heavy underbrush, and
once or twice Bab was obliged to rest. But still she murmured to
herself: “I must hurry! I must find Santa Claus!”
Suddenly the way became easier and smoother. In a moment she came out
into a little green dell which was filled with music. Looking about
her, she saw two little goblins, like Bizzybuzz himself, playing on
tiny green instruments that looked like lutes, and singing.
She could not make out all the words of their song, but the general
burden seemed to be something like this:
“Our wings, how sure and fleet!
Our voices, oh, how sweet!
How kind our hearts and wise!
How green our goggle-eyes!
“We are the elves of mirth,
Most wondrous of the earth!
Oh, world! pay homage meet
At Klang’s and Tinkle’s feet!”
When they saw Bab, they began to make a series of very low bows, crying
in sing-song tones, “Come and tell us how charming we are, and we will
love you!”
“But I don’t think you are at all charming!” said Bab, truthfully. “I
think you are vain and silly, and very ugly indeed!”
“But hear us sing!” cried the creatures. “Listen to our sweet,
melodious, marvellous, exquisite, and never-again-to-be-equalled
voices!”
And once more they began to sing. This time their song was pretty, and
sounded like a tinkling brook mixed with a summer breeze:
“Silver streams,
Silver dreams,
Little shafts of silver beams;
Music floats
From our throats
In a shower of silver notes,
Like a fleet of silver boats!”
“We can sing
Of everything,—
Petal, feather, scale and wing;
Tinkle, Klang,
While we sang,
Fairy music round you rang,
Klang and Tinkle! Tinkle, Klang!”
Bab thought the music lovely. She forgot where she was, and begged
them to sing another song. Then suddenly her heart bounded hard. She
remembered her errand!
“Thank you, thank you!” she cried. “But I must go; I am late!”
And she turned and ran away as fast as she could, leaving the goblins
still singing.
Soon she found herself in a cool, shadowy garden, where a fountain
played softly, reflecting the big, heavy-headed roses that climbed
up the edge of the marble basin to peep into the water. It was very
restful and delicious there, and Bab was hot and tired. She wanted to
sit down on the grass and rest, but she thought of Mother Goose, and
prepared to plod on. Then she saw coming toward her a very beautiful
lady, with a delightful, smiling face, and a little crown on her yellow
hair. She wore a green dress, and her feet were bare, but Bab knew at
once that she was a princess.
“How do you do?” said the Princess, smiling. “You are Bab, the little
mortal girl, aren’t you? Will you rest in my garden for a little while?”
“I—I can’t,” said Bab, shyly. “I have to go on. I’m looking for Santa
Claus.”
The Princess laughed merrily.
“Oh, he lives ever so far away!” she said, with a wave of her hand.
“You’d much better stay with me!”
“Who are you, please?” asked Bab.
“They call me the Idle Princess,” the lady answered. “I have a great
many names, but no one has ever discovered my real one.”
“What is it?” asked Bab.
“That’s a secret,” she said, smiling mysteriously.
“Shall I ever know it?”
“Never! And you’ll call me different names every day of your life.”
“Shall I know you all my life?” cried Bab, “even in the Real World?”
The Idle Princess smiled at her gently.
“Even there!” she said. “Now let us sit down on the grass and make
daisy chains.”
So they did; and the fountain played softly, and Bab fancied she could
hear Klang and Tinkle singing in the wood on the other side of the
garden wall:
“Silver streams,
Silver dreams,
Little shafts of silver beams!...”
Suddenly Bab sprang to her feet, frightened.
“Oh, Princess!” she cried, “it must be late; and I had forgotten my
errand!”
She began to run across the grass as fast as she could; then she
remembered that she had not thanked her hostess, and stopped. The Idle
Princess was at her side.
“Must you really go?” she asked regretfully.
“Oh, yes!” sighed Bab. “And oh, Princess! could you tell me the way to
Santa Claus’s house?”
They had reached the garden wall, and the Princess lifted Bab to the
top.
“Just jump down on the other side and go straight ahead,” she told her.
“I am sorry I cannot go with you to show you the way, but I have to
spin six dreams before supper. Good-bye! I’ll see you again some day.
Kiss me!”
Bab stooped from the top of the wall, and kissed her.
“Good-bye, dear Princess, and thank you!” she cried. But the Idle
Princess had gone!
Bab hurried on through the Wonderful Wood, determined not to let
anything else tempt her to stop again. The way seemed clear and open
now. The trees grew wider apart, and from somewhere a soft sunset light
was stealing through them.
Suddenly Bab heard a great voice yawning, and through the bushes
stalked a tall, gray man, with a long beard, and big solemn eyes. He
stared at Bab, and Bab stared at him.
“Who are you?” asked Bab. Somehow his gaze made her feel sleepy.
The stranger yawned again before replying.
“The Sand Man,” he said, in a heavy, drowsy voice.
Bab found herself yawning in sympathy. Then she started and stared.
“Why, I didn’t know—” she began.
“What?” asked the Sand Man, dreamily.
“That you—that you—well, that you _were_, you know!” she stammered.
Truly this Make Believe Land was a queer place! She would expect to
meet the Man in the Moon next, or the Old Woman who Sweeps the Cobwebs
off the Sky!
“You may meet them both, if you like,” said her new acquaintance,
though she had not spoken.
Bab jumped.
“I didn’t say a word!” she exclaimed.
“No,” returned the Sand Man, “but you thought.”
“Oh!” she murmured, “I didn’t know—”
“There are many, many, many, many things you do not know,” remarked
the Sand Man, so calmly that she could not call him rude, though she
felt rather uncomfortable. She resolved to make friends with this queer
creature. He was not merry and sweet, like the dear Idle Princess, but
he looked as though he knew a great deal, and she felt quite a respect
for him.
“I wonder,” she said timidly, “if you would tell me why they call you
the Sand Man.”
“Sit down,” he said gravely, “and I will tell you. But you must be very
still while I talk.”
They sat down on a soft bank of moss, and the Sand Man began.
“Where I live,” he said, speaking in a low, slow voice, “there is a
whole world of sand. It doesn’t lie out flat, like the desert, but
in heaps and hills and waves, like the moors or the ocean. And down
in the hollows it is soft and dark and cool, but up on the tops of
the hillocks it is warm and bright. And when you lie on one of these
hillocks, and look up at the blue, hot sky, a little lazy wind comes
stealing along, and shifts the sand ever so slightly, and it begins to
slide—and slide—and slide very softly, and you slide with it until—”
“Oh, dear!” sighed Bab, sleepily. “I’m afraid I’m going to sleep!”
“If you do, it is all the better,” said the Sand Man, calmly. “You will
understand me much more clearly when you are asleep.” And he went on:
“You slide—and slide—and slide, quite gently, down into the cool, dark,
soft hollow, and when you are there the wind blows the sand over you,
until only your face is left outside, and at last you begin to sink,
down—down—down into the sand. And the sand closes over you, and lies
quite coolly and lightly on you everywhere. And you can’t open your
eyes, but you wouldn’t if you could. And you can’t move, but you don’t
want to move. And you can’t breathe, but you don’t have to breathe. And
so you just lie in the heart of World of Sand, and that is—Sleep”...
... Dimly Bab could see the World of Sand, like a great, gray-brown
sea. The wind, stealing over it, stirred little rivers of sand, that
slipped from the tops to the hollows. There was shade and shine there,
and the hollows looked like cool, dark couches sheltered from the
light.... Then she found herself lying in the sand, while the wind
blew it over her. She had forgotten her errand, forgotten Santa Claus,
forgotten Mother Goose, forgotten her brother and sister, forgotten
everything. All she thought of was the sand and the wind, and that
slow, delicious sinking—down—down—down—which was—Sleep....
A sound came to her sharply,—a sound that was very familiar. She could
not rouse herself at once, but it came again and again, and finally
Bab started up blinking. Something was pulling excitedly at her dress,
stopping at intervals to bark wildly. Bab put out her arms with a cry
of joy.
“_Wiggles!_” she gasped. And the little fox-terrier jumped onto her lap.
For a full minute they kissed each other, and Bab talked, and Wiggles
squealed and barked and wriggled, and they had a splendid time. Then
once again Bab remembered.
“It’s dark!” she cried, springing up. “Where is the Sand Man? Why—Oh,
Wiggles, Wiggles! you saved me! I should have gone to sleep in the
World of Sand, and never waked up any more, if you hadn’t happened
along!”
Then she started again. “Happen along!” she said. “No—I really am
beginning to understand things at last. Wiggles has been with me all
the time, just as Bizzybuzz said, only I was too stupid to see him
before! Oh, Wiggles, dear, forgive me! And now we must really, truly
hurry! What shall I say to Mother Goose if she asks me if I have been
faithful and obedient! Oh, dear! I’ve stopped by the way so many times,
I shall never find the way to Santa Claus’s house!” And poor Bab wiped
away a tear, and started off upon her journey once more, followed by
Wiggles. But before she had gone a dozen steps, she stopped short in
surprise. The forest had vanished, and she was at the foot of a steep
hill. It looked bare and stony, but the top was covered with snow. The
sky was full of stars, and the wind was cold and fresh. Here and there
firs and pine-trees swayed slightly. Evidently she was in some far
Northern land. “Oh! oh!” she exclaimed delightedly; “this must be the
country of Santa Claus, after all!”
Losing no more time, she and Wiggles began to climb the long, dark
hill, toward the snow that glistened in the starlight far away at the
top.
[Illustration]
VI
_How Bab Rescued the Wooden Cow_
[Illustration]
[Illustration]