Think of it, Maida couldn’t have another wish for a year! “Do you mean
to say,” she asked Billy, “that I will have to stay here in Illusia and
be a little girl until next New Year’s Day?”
“I’m afraid you will,” replied Billy. And, of course, Maida was deeply
disappointed. All her fears revived because she realized she no longer
had a protector in the Wishing Post. There was nothing to save her from
her enemies in case they attacked her.
“I don’t think it’s safe here,” she said to Billy, “we have all lost
our wishes, and the best thing we can do is to try to get back to the
flying ship and have the Man with the Growly Voice take us away.” So
they all started to make their way through the city of Illusia to the
flying ship.
By this time the people had left the Plaza and were going home to
dinner, or to supper, or to work, or wherever people go when a big
crowd breaks up; and the streets were full of them. The three were
jostled and pushed, as people always are in a narrow street when it is
crowded. And before she realized what had happened, Maida was separated
from Santa Claus and Billy, and swept away in an eddy of the crowd.
She called and called, but no one answered. She was afraid to ask any
of the Illusians where she was or how to get anywhere else because they
would know she was a stranger; then she would be captured and turned
over to the Queen; so she simply wandered about. But oh! she was so
tired, and so drowsy; so when she came to a pretty park where there
were some nice long benches and the trees cast a deep shadow, she
decided to take a nap. She stretched out on the bench and closed her
eyes.
The first thing she knew she felt someone tapping her on the soles of
the feet with a stick. Did you ever see a policeman wake up a tramp
who had gone to sleep on a park bench when he shouldn’t by rapping him
on the soles of the feet with his club? Well, that’s exactly what this
Illusian policeman did to Maida.
“Come, little girl,” said the policeman, “wake up!” Maida sat up
drowsily, rubbing her eyes.
“What’s the matter?” she asked.
The policeman grinned knowingly. “Now, you know very well,” he
replied, “that children in Illusia are not allowed to go to sleep till
midnight.”
Maida rubbed her eyes sleepily, and rose to her feet. She said to
herself, “I used to complain at home when they made me go to bed at
dark. Oh, dear! if I could _only_ go to sleep.” She ran after the
policeman, who by this time was walking on, and said to him, “If you
please, sir, how long is it till midnight?”
The policeman looked at her astonished. “You must be a very ignorant
little girl,” he said. “This is New Year’s Eve, which comes on the
Fourth of July here in Illusia, and it won’t be midnight till half-past
December.” So he strolled away.
“Only July!” said Maida, “And I can’t go to sleep till December!” She
thought with regret of that little pink and white bed at home, of the
soft mattress, the downy pillows, and the coverlet she used to pull
up about her chin when she nestled down to rest. Well, there was no
use thinking of something she couldn’t have, so she commenced to walk
about again. Then she realized she was hungry, oh, _very_ hungry! She
passed a shop, over the door of which was a sign reading, “All kinds
of fancy groceries.” So she went in and asked the man if she could buy
something to eat.
“Certainly,” said the shop-keeper, bowing politely, “we have splendid
charlotte russe.”
“Oh, no, nothing sweet,” said Maida. At this moment the shop-keeper’s
clerk approached her, saying:
“Won’t you try a piece of this fine candy?”
“No, I don’t want candy,” answered Maida.
“Ah, I know,” said the shopkeeper, smiling, “I know what you want. We
have some delicious ice-cream, just in.”
“No, no, no!” cried Maida, “I don’t want candy, charlotte russe,
or ice-cream; I want some bread and butter and oatmeal.” But the
shopkeeper and his clerk stared at each other dumbfounded. Maida looked
first at one, then the other, and asked: “Haven’t you anything good to
eat here?”
The shopkeeper replied in astonishment: “Why, certainly, everything a
child can desire--chocolates, and marshmallows, and gum-drops----”
Maida interrupted him--“And no fried chicken or corn bread?” she asked.
The clerk replied: “Now what strange things are these? Certainly not!”
So he and the shop-keeper walked away in high dudgeon, and she went out
of the shop disappointed.
Who should she meet on the pavement but the Candy Kid and
Jack-in-the-Box. They were as glad to find her as she was to meet them,
and it took them all a long time to relate their experiences.
“Have you had a wish?” finally asked Maida.
“No,” replied the Candy Kid, “what do we want a wish for?”
“Will you give me yours?” asked Maida.
“Of course,” the Candy Kid answered, as he began to feel in his pockets
to see if he could find a wish. “I must have had one,” he said,
“because they say everyone has one, but I seem to have lost it.”
“Never mind,” said Maida, “come with me”; and taking each of them by
the hand, she ran, and ran, and ran till she came again to the Wishing
Post. She stood by it, the Candy Kid with his left hand resting on the
mother-of-pearl mast, and said to him, “Now quick, quick, wish that I
am grown up.” So the Candy Kid wished that Maida was grown up, and it
happened. Just like _that_! Oh, it didn’t take a second. Before the
wish had been made she could walk under the Candy Kid’s outstretched
arm, and now she was as tall as he was; but she didn’t have a hangy,
traily gown, the kind that Aunt Mary used to wear; she still wore the
same little dress, which only reached to her knees. “Oh, deah me!” she
said, and my! how different her voice sounded. “What a shocking frock I
have on!”
Jack-in-the-Box saw that she was disturbed. He said, “oh, never mind,
never mind,” and chucked her under the chin. She indignantly boxed his
ears. “How dare you?” she said; “why, the _idea_!” Then she looked
about in dismay.
“Deah me!” she said again, “how very imprudent! Here I have come all
the way to the North Pole, and I’ve no chaperone.”
There’s no doubt about it, Maida was GROWN UP.