Maida began to think the disconsolate lover was mistaken about finding
the “Lady” soon. There seemed to be no sign of her. And they walked
and walked and walked. At last, in the distance, they saw a house.
Not a great big fine house such as Maida lived in at home, but a low
hut built of heavy logs with a slanting roof and a high chimney with
lots of smoke coming out of it. The wolf passed by the house without
stopping for it was in a hurry to go somewhere and get something cool
to drink, but the disconsolate lover knocked loudly on the door.
“I wonder if the lady lives here,” said Maida. The disconsolate lover
knocked again, and again, and finally the door swung open and they all
walked in. They were in a toy shop. The house looked--oh, ever so much
larger now that they were in, than it did from the outside. There were
long rooms filled with toys and dollies. There were benches and shelves
where toys were being made by funny little men. The walls and rafters
were hung with all sorts of jumping-jacks and--oh, everything children
like.
The lad who opened the door stood looking at them. He was dressed
all in leather and his hair hung over his neck. Maida was sure she
had never seen such a nice friendly looking boy. “My name is Billy,”
he said. “Whose little boy are you?” “If you please,” replied Maida,
“I’m not a boy--I’m a little girl,” and she threw open her long fur
cloak so he could see what a pretty dress she wore. At once all the
little workmen stopped work and crowded about her, for strange as
it may seem they had hardly ever seen a little girl. Maida was quite
frightened and looked about for the Man with the Growly Voice--or the
Disconsolate Lover, but as neither of them were in sight she ran to
Billy for protection and cuddled in his arms. “What’s the matter with
them?” she faltered. Billy laughed. “They’re curious to see you,” he
replied, “because you’re a little girl.” “Little girls must be scarce
up here,” observed Maida (still nestling close to Billy). Billy laughed
again. “Scarce,” he said, “why I should say they _are_!” So he sent
the workmen back to their benches and gave Maida all the ice-cream she
could eat for breakfast. It was good ice-cream too, still--just for
once she wouldn’t have minded if she could have had a cup of coffee and
a slice of bacon. After breakfast Billy showed her all over the shop,
and she was allowed to see the workmen making toys. When they returned
to the great room who should they meet but a huge Eskimo and his pretty
little daughter, both dressed entirely in furs.
The Eskimo was very grand. “I am Kankakee,” he said, and waving his
hand toward his daughter added, “this is Kokomo, my daughter,” upon
which Kokomo came to Maida and made a lovely curtsey saying something
that sounded like--well I can hardly tell you just what it was like.
Did you ever hear an angry old hen calling her chickens? Well it was
something like that, and something like the rattle on the trolley car
when the man lets off the brake--for poor little Kokomo could not speak
English--only Eskimo.
“So you’re an Eskimo,” said Maida, “can you tell me about the Wishing
Post?”
The big Eskimo drew himself up proudly. “I can tell you all about it,”
he replied, “for I am a great man, and very wise, also I know many
things. The Wishing Post grows out of the earth at the Top of the World
and if one makes a wish upon it the wish will come true.”
Maida was overjoyed. “I am going to make a wish just as soon as I find
it,” she told him. “You find it!” he said scornfully, “why it is death
for mortal to try to cross the Forbidden Land, to reach the city of
Illusia. Even _I_ have never crossed those icy wastes, and should you
find the Post you would be put to death by the Queen of the North,
Aurora Borealis, or her Prime Minister, Jack Frost. Look!” and he
pointed out of the window, “you can see the lights shining from her
crown--when she is pleased the light is white; when she is jealous it
is green. When she is sad the light is blue, and when she is angry the
light is red.” At this moment a huge stream of red light waved about
and cast a red glow over all the room.
“My goodness!” said Maida, “she must be in a dreadful temper to-day!”
But the Eskimo and his daughter only drew their fur robes about them
and walked away. Maida would have followed them to find out some more
but she ran plump into the roundest, jolliest, old man you ever saw.
He wore a long green coat and big leather boots, and his long hair and
beard were snow-white. Oh, he was so fat and so jolly! His face was red
and chubby and he had the nicest smile; he reminded her of some one but
she couldn’t think just who it was. He was very much surprised to see
Maida. “Well, well!” he shouted, “a little girl. Come sit on my knee,
my dear, and tell me all about it.”
[Illustration: Maida Meets Santa Claus]
So Maida sat on his knee and told him all about it. “I’m going to the
Wishing Post,” she said, “and wish to be grown up.”
“Grown up?” replied the chubby old man. “Why childhood is the happiest
time of life.”
“That’s what the grown-ups tell us,” Maida answered, “but I guess
they’ve forgotten all about it. I don’t suppose you were ever spanked
and put to bed without your supper because you wouldn’t learn your
lessons.”
The chubby old man became very earnest and a little sad. “If you grow
up quickly,” he said, “you won’t care for dollies and candy any more.
You can’t sit like this on my knee, and you’ll always be puzzling your
pretty little head because you’ve nothing to wear.”
Maida looked at him rather puzzled. “Your face looks so--so familiar to
me,” she said, “I’ve seen you somewhere but I can’t remember where it
was.”
Billy looked at Maida and smiled. “Why in your picture books,” he
laughed. “Don’t you know who this is? Why Santa Claus, of course.” And
it was.