JOYTOWN
IT was clearly a case of a runaway house, and before Sally had time to
finish wondering how on earth it could have walked out of its own back
door in order to step into Toyland, as she and Bedelia had been obliged
to do, she was surrounded by all the inmates of the Walking House, who
came scrambling down the stairs and out of the doors, thoroughly glad
that their rough-and-tumble ride had come to an end.
Everybody crowded around Sally, and all sorts of experiences were
exchanged. Finally the Sign Post reminded the little girl that it was
growing late and if they wished to enter the city under his escort, it
would be well to make a move, as he had already been a long time away
from his post of duty. Accordingly the whole party set out, and soon
descended the slight hill from which Sally had taken her first look at
the city. After they were all safely at the bottom, the doll’s house
proceeded down very cautiously and _backwards_. For it was dreadfully
afraid of spilling all its contents if it went down in its normal
position. At length it was safely landed at the bottom, but Sally
immediately discovered that it never would be able to get into the city
as the gates were not particularly wide, and certainly had never been
set up with a view to admitting strange houses that came galloping
along, unceremoniously clamoring for entrance. Therefore after a brief
consultation, it was decided that the house should remain outside the
gates, which were never closed, as there was no night there; and that
the family should make it their headquarters and return for rest and
refreshment whenever they became tired out with exploring the new
country. This matter having been arranged, Sally and the faithful Sign
Post proceeded to lead the way into the city.
Over the gates was inscribed the legend:
THE CITY OF JOY
neatly painted in plain characters distinct enough for all to read.
And with this most propitious name to greet them, the inhabitants of
the Walking House advanced bravely up the principal street. Everything
appeared to be extremely peaceful. People—who, of course, were all
dolls and very much like their visitors in size and appearance—were
going about the streets and in and out of the shops and offices.
Sally rather wondered at the absence of policemen, but upon remarking
on this to the Sign Post, quickly found herself obliged to explain
what she meant. The word was unknown in Toyland, and such a word as
crime had never entered its vocabulary. The Sign Posts were the nearest
approach to anything in the nature of “the force,” and they were only
for general guidance and information. The little girl marveled greatly
at such a state of affairs, and hoped most devoutly that Bedelia would
behave herself while sojourning among such peaceful folk. That worthy,
trotting along with her paw clasped in Sally’s hand, looked the very
picture of innocence. Sally had seen her look like this before, and at
such seasons usually prepared for the worst.
[Illustration]
The main street upon which they now were walking led straight to
the Palace, which towered aloft above the other houses in the very
center of the city. Upon closer acquaintance, Sally quite altered her
previous opinion and found the building a very fine one indeed, even
in comparison with the Walking House. She could not help wondering if
it also possessed feet in embryo that might develop and run away with
it at any unexpected moment. She was rather afraid that the dwellings
in Joytown, having noted the example of the Walking House, might
perchance take a notion to follow the same. There was, however, nothing
whatever to cause apprehension in the dignified attitude of the staid
and stationary dwellings of the chief city of Toyland. Sally felt that
all quite depended upon their powers of observation, and whether or not
they had noticed the antics of the Walking House. For is not example
more effective than precept? Sally feared that it might be so. However,
she had no time for reflection, as all the party were anxious to make
a tour of the city, and the dinner hour was rapidly approaching. It
was too late to visit the Palace, so after a walk, during which they
covered a good deal of territory, they retired to their own dwelling.
The soft, golden twilight which took the place of night, now commenced
to fall, and Sally observed many parties of the residents leaving the
city and starting in the direction of Sleepy Town. The Sign Post,
who, at Sally’s earnest solicitation, had obtained permission from
headquarters to remain with the child and her party during their stay
in Toyland, now informed Sally that the twilight was brought about by
draping the sun with many veils of delicately tinted gauze.
“You see there really is no necessity for it at all, except that having
the day all the time becomes rather monotonous,” he went on. “And
besides that, there would be no sense in having such a long day. One
could not continue at work for more than six hours, the time laid down
by the trade unions.”
This seemed a remarkably short day to Sally, and she now inquired what
the Sign Post meant by veiling the sun. But that worthy immediately
assumed an air of mystery and replied,
“It was entirely the idea of the Polly-nosed Saphead. You must ask of
him, for he alone understands the nature of the occult rite.”
“And who, pray, may be the Polly-nosed Saphead?” demanded Bedelia, who
was hopping along on the other side of the Sign Post, very demure and
highly interested in all that was taking place.
At this the Sign Post shook his head solemnly.
“He is the high priest of all Toyland,” he replied. “Few are permitted
to enter his august presence.”
He shook his head again, and was silent. And Sally and Bedelia both
solemnly shook their heads, and were silent also for the space of at
least a full minute.
However, there did not appear to be any use in standing still and
shaking their little craniums over the Polly-nosed Saphead. Accordingly
Sally and Bedelia cordially thanked the Sign Post, who promised to join
them early the next morning, and made their way toward the Walking
House. They would gladly have invited their companion to enter, had he
not been entirely too tall for any of the rooms, or even to get in at
the door. As the Sign Post was very well used to standing out-of-doors,
he patiently took up his stand close to the house, there to await the
coming of the morning. To be sure, it seemed very queer to him not to
be saying “Five miles to the Palace,” he had been saying it for such a
very long time. In fact, he had never before in all his existence been
called upon to quit his post, as he was a comparatively new Sign Post.
But a very pleasant business he found it, especially when acting as
escort to such a delightful little girl as Sally.
Meantime Sally and Bedelia had entered the house, where they found the
rest of the family awaiting them. After a short consultation, it was
decided to observe the general rules that had governed them before
they had arrived in Toyland. Because other people never went to bed
was really no reason why they should not if they found it necessary.
Therefore the shades were drawn down, the lights extinguished, and the
whole household soon wrapped in refreshing slumber.
Once Sally wakened and, peeping out between the curtains—for the window
was close to her bedside—beheld the long and lanky form of the Sign
Post standing patiently at his place. His countenance still bore its
affable smile and the child fancied she could hear him murmuring, “Five
miles to the Palace. Five miles to the Palace.”
[Illustration: Sally felt a great longing to tip over the gorgeous
little Colonel.]
“Only it couldn’t be five miles, because it isn’t any miles at all,”
murmured the child, as she slipped away into dreamland. “He’s right at
the very door of the Palace.”
Sally slept late, and as soon as she awoke sprang out of bed and rushed
eagerly to the window. There was the Sign Post, nodding and smiling at
her, and waving good-morning, to which she responded in like manner,
and then made haste to dress and ran down to the kitchen, where she
found Dinah busily preparing breakfast. All the dolls had been up all
night, putting the house to rights, as it had suffered a terrible
shaking up during its journey, and there was not a piece of furniture
in the whole place that had not bumped and bounced and slidden, so that
it all presented a very much tumbled-up appearance when at last the
house came to a standstill. However, the dolls had worked busily, and
by the time Sally descended everything was in fine shape.
After a toothsome breakfast, a short council was held as to the best
methods of procedure. It was decided to go forth in several small
parties, as their number would make one single group rather too large.
The Sign Post had managed to take part in the conference by stooping
down and poking his head in at the window, and now hastened off to
summon others of his kind. Presently returning with them, they all set
off on their explorations.
Sally and Bedelia, with their faithful guide, formed a party by
themselves and very gaily they set forth, though it must be confessed
that Bedelia looked a bit solemn. Having eaten a huge breakfast, she
was beginning to experience certain sensations which caused her to
apprehend that D. Tablet, Esq., might once again be on the rampage.
These disagreeable feelings, however, gradually wore away, and the
little bear was presently padding along as merrily as any of the others.
Beautiful indeed was the Imperial City, with its bustling business
section and its lovely residence portion, its symmetrical parks and
gleaming lakes. And high above all, as if keeping guard over the
peaceful city, the lofty Palace, which stood on a slight eminence and
was therefore rendered extremely prominent by its position as well as
its size and distinctive style of architecture.
Sally did not know very much about architecture. Most of her knowledge
on the subject was included in the somewhat mixed-up style of the
Walking House. Neither she nor Miss Palmer had ever been able to decide
whether it was Grecian or Roman, ancient or modern. To be sure, Miss
Palmer had been anxious to spare John’s feelings on the subject, and
therefore had been slow in offering an opinion. And Sally was now
plunged in quite the same perplexity with regard to the Palace. She
could not help wondering if it had been designed by the Polly-nosed
Saphead, who, since he appeared to be such a great personage, might
well be a great architect also.
The Palace stood in the midst of a beautiful park, filled with the
usual types of trees that Sally had noticed as peculiar to Toyland, and
was approached by a lofty flight of steps, guarded on either side by a
whole regiment of lead soldiers, “The Royal Guards,” as the Sign Post
explained in a rather awe-struck manner. Sally felt a great longing to
tip over the gorgeous little Colonel, as she had often done with her
lead soldiers at home, and send the whole rank and file toppling over,
one upon another. But she suddenly recollected that she was now not
the least bit bigger than the soldiers themselves. And so she meekly
followed the private who was detailed to conduct them to the presence
of Royalty.