“DON’T you think it was telling awful whoppers?” asked Bedelia, as she settled down comfortably upon her haunches and proceeded to dispose of a plump red banana with a rapidity that would certainly have called forth a rebuke from the personage to whom she referred.

Sally hesitated, not quite certain which side it devolved upon her to defend. She certainly had been somewhat impressed by D. Tablet. Had she not seen him come tumbling, frog-like, out of Bedelia’s throat? For aught that she could prove to the contrary, he had, perhaps, gone tumbling back again. Being thus cruelly torn between her fondness for Bedelia and her sense of justice, she wisely held her peace, while Bedelia, by this time well on the way with the second banana, mentally hurled defiance at her pink advisor.

“He was damp all over. He looked as if somebody had licked him!” she finally ejaculated, throwing away her banana skin and standing up preparatory to suggesting that they resume their journey.

At the same moment her face stiffened, while her eyes fairly bulged out of her head with amazement. Hurrying straight down the road toward them, and advancing by leaps and bounds was a long, lithe figure that they both recognized as it came nearer as the Talking Sign Post. It now came up at a brisk gallop, and exclaimed breathlessly as soon as within hailing distance,

“I was so afraid you would get lost without me!”

Thereupon it threw itself comfortably down on the greensward and beamed amiably at Sally. She felt very much like replying that if he had been a little more communicative in the beginning, the danger of going astray would have been smaller. However, she refrained, being dreadfully afraid of offending the Sign Post, who after all appeared to be very good-hearted. Not so Bedelia, who cocked her sharp, little, black eyes in a most inquisitive manner and hastily retorted,

“No thanks to you if we did get lost, with your ‘Five miles to the Palace’ and nothing else. How should we know which turning to take next?” And then she added hurriedly, “Why don’t you have things painted on you as they do in civilized countries?”

“If by things you mean directions,” replied the Sign Post gravely, “it would be altogether superfluous in a land where everything can talk. And as for turnings,” he added severely, “there aren’t any. All the roads in Toyland lead to the Palace, so you are sure to get there some time or other. To be sure, some roads are longer than others. In the event of your taking the longest one, you might consider yourselves lost.”

All out of patience with what she considered an extremely round-about explanation, Bedelia did not trouble herself to reply, but Sally hastened to smooth things over by offering the Sign Post some luncheon out of the paper bag, which they had managed to repair with some pins, and which now contained the remnants of their repast. This, however, he politely refused, having already lunched copiously on his usual diet of shavings which curious regimen agreed best with his wooden constitution. Sally was rather disappointed at this. She recollected once having been taken to the Zoo and having seen the ostriches fed with oranges. And she remembered how very queer it had appeared to her to watch the fruit as each piece traveled down the birds’ long, red throats, one chasing another until they finally vanished in the feathery region below. She could not help thinking that the Sign Post was very like the throat of an ostrich, only the resemblance continued all the way down. She could not but wonder where the luncheon would finally have located itself, as there were apparently no facilities for expansion in the general make-up of the Sign Post.

There was a short silence, during which Bedelia made ostentatious preparations for moving on.

Fond as she was of the little bear, at that moment it seemed to Sally that it could not exist in any sort of comfort without making somebody else miserable. So she said very gently,

“Would you kindly tell me what land we are in?”

She felt quite sure that the Sign Post was waiting for her to open the conversation.

An expression of surprise flitted over the mobile countenance of the Sign Post, but he replied without further comment, “This is the wonderful country of Toyland,” and then murmured in a reminiscent manner, “Five miles to the Palace. Five miles to the Palace.” After a moment he added, “Perhaps it will be just as well for us to be moving without more delay. It is quite a long way for you to walk.”

So all three got upon their feet and cheerfully resumed their travels.

The country, although very fresh and green, seemed to the little girl rather monotonous. The same cows, pigs and sheep, the same stiff little wooden houses, fenced in by the same stiff wooden railings. People seemed few, but as it was not far from noon, Sally concluded that they must all be eating their dinners. And a very sensible conclusion it was. The few folk that were encountered were of the wooden doll type, and they all appeared to be so very busy at their work in the fields that Sally forbore to hail them, although she would dearly have liked to stop long enough to pass the time of day with them.

So the three proceeded, chatting merrily, the Sign Post accommodating his long, swinging stride to the shorter steps of his small companions. An exchange of confidences was, of course, the natural thing, and Sally was soon giving a complete account of herself and Bedelia and of how they had happened to stumble into Toyland. The Sign Post listened with attention, and in return gave much valuable information concerning both himself and the country. He explained that there were many other Sign Posts like himself, that they were stationed at intervals of five miles, and that it was their duty to conduct as well as to direct strangers, should they so desire. He also explained that there was no night in Toyland, as it was a very difficult and expensive business to start up the sun, which in consequence was allowed to go on shining ad libitum.

“Whenever anyone feels in need of rest or repairs, he takes a trip to Sleepy Town. It lies just over there and adjoining our own country. There it is always night, the moon shines perpetually, and everything invites slumber.”

Here the Sign Post yawned in so fearful a manner that Sally, gazing on his open countenance, decided that he might very well be a candidate for Sleepy Town.

Following the direction in which he had pointed as he described the location of Sleepy Town, Sally’s glance discerned what appeared to be a faint, purplish haze hanging upon the horizon.

“You will find a great many Sign Posts there,” said her companion so abruptly that Sally jumped, for she had fancied that he was still yawning, “on account of the darkness. For example, how would a stranger find Nid-Nod Street or Blanket Avenue, were there not someone present to inform him?”

And Sally, comprehending the weight of his argument, nodded gravely.

The trio had now accomplished half their journey, and about two miles and a half lay between them and the Palace. Sally did not feel particularly tired, as the road was very smooth and not at all dusty. Once an automobile passed them and Sally noted the fact that it was of exactly the same pattern as one that she owned and which now reposed in the nursery at home in a garage constructed by Bob of building blocks. It was of the wrought-iron variety, and was wound up with a key.

The auto which had spun merrily by suddenly stopped a few yards ahead of them and refused to budge an inch. Sally and her companions hastened their steps and, coming up with the auto, found that it had run down. As the chauffeur had forgotten to bring along the key, the party of lady dolls that occupied the car were plunged in the deepest despair and chagrin. Sally suddenly remembered her little golden key and hastily produced it. It was found to fit to perfection. With many thanks the party proceeded on its way, first having invited Sally and Bedelia to take seats in the car. The Sign Post was, of course, quite out of the question. However, Sally politely declined, as she really preferred very much to continue her walk with her lanky companion, to say nothing of Bedelia. This the Sign Post greatly appreciated, and presently stooped down and, gently lifting the little girl, he poised her aloft on his shoulders, and in this gallant fashion she rode for a mile or more, while Bedelia trotted behind, grumbling and growling at the discourtesy shown her. Although she had been very uncivil indeed to the Sign Post, Bedelia could see no good reason why she should not ride on his other shoulder.

Being completely rested—indeed, she had not been a bit tired in the beginning—Sally slid laughingly to the ground, quite in opposition to the wishes of the Sign Post, who would gladly have carried her till the end of the chapter. They had ascended a slight hill, and the city now lay in plain sight in the charming valley beneath them. Sally could not but observe that there was nothing at all imposing in its appearance. All the houses seemed planned after about the same pattern. Even the Palace itself seemed to be only a doll’s house on a larger scale than the others. Sally’s mental comparison of it with her own beloved Walking House was anything but favorable. The little girl presently paused, however, to reflect that being now in the country of dolls and toys, she could scarcely expect to find sky-scrapers. Bedelia turned up her nose frankly enough, and, as was her custom, at once proceeded to express her opinions without let or hindrance. And what might have been the result had she been permitted to conclude as she began nobody knows, for the Sign Post was beginning to look very much put out.

But just at that moment their attention was attracted by a loud noise behind them, a fearful pounding and bumping. Looking around, they beheld advancing along the road at a high rate of speed a huge something—what they were at first unable to decide. But as it came nearer and nearer and finally swung into full view, they discovered that it was nothing more nor less than the Walking House, hurrying along at an astonishing pace, while from the interior issued a doleful voice which loudly repeated at intervals the entreaty, “Wait for me! Wait for me!”

All its windows glistened in the sun like blinking eyes, while the castors on which it originally stood had somehow turned into prancing feet that now hopped and skipped along with the greatest alacrity. On it came, bumping and bouncing, and all its terrified inhabitants bumped and bounced too, while they hung on for dear life to any available piece of furniture that they had happened to grasp. And nearly scared out of their wits was every mother’s son of them, for only a colony of rubber dolls could have been in a comfortable frame of mind under such trying circumstances. Greatly relieved were all when the frisky house suddenly ceased its gyrations and came to a dead stop directly in front of Sally.