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.

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.”

“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[78]
[79]
[80] 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.