NOBODY ever was awakened in Sleepy Town, but everyone slept just as long as they chose. Consequently the morning was well advanced before the King and Queen awoke, and sat up yawning and stretching in a very unregal manner. In fact, it was just like the awakening of ordinary folks. And when they had gotten through with this performance, they stood up and arranged their robes and put on their crowns which they had carefully hung up on a nearby poppy bush. Sally was also awake. She and the Sign Post had already taken a walk down to the lake where the little girl had looked eagerly for the Leap-Frog. But the queer little animal was nowhere to be seen, so the two had retraced their steps, after Sally had bathed her face and hands in the cool water. They were very glad to find the King and Queen and Bedelia waiting for them and eager to take the homeward way.

As they walked towards the gates, Sally noticed quite a number of Flussies perched on the bushes, their heads under their wings, fast asleep. The Sign Post remarked that they were the carrier-doves of Toyland. Here and there a furry bat, hooked on some convenient branch by his little claws, slept peacefully. Sally remarked how pretty and downy they were, just like little winged mice. She had always wondered why people feared them, knowing how senseless and cruel are the superstitions regarding the timid little creatures.

She repeated the lines half dreamily to herself, wondering if they included the Little Lamb and others of his ilk, as they walked along towards the entrance, where they could already see the motor car, which had just been freshly wound up, waiting for them.

The King and Queen climbed into the back seat, Sally and Bedelia sprang up with the chauffeur, and with the Sign Post racing ahead on his long, lath-like legs, they set out at a merry pace for Joytown.

It was nearly noon when they reached the palace, and after luncheon, the Queen proposed that they should pay a visit to the Polly-nosed Saphead, the Wizard who really controlled more or less all the affairs of state. As Sally was only too eager to go, they hurried away without ceremony as soon as might be, in order to have a good long afternoon. This rather offended all the other members of the court, who were decidedly inclined to feel aggrieved and neglected since Sally and Bedelia had come a-visiting to the palace.

The Polly-nosed Saphead lived in a great, round tower about half a mile from the palace. He had been advised of the advent of royalty by means of the wireless telegraph, which has always existed in Toyland. In fact, he claimed to be the inventor of it. But be that as it may, he received the message from the King all right, and was on hand to receive the royal party in his big audience room on the first floor.

When they entered the hall he was discovered sitting in his big chair of state, his shrunken little body wrapped in a loose robe of crimson covered with queer black figures and lined with white fur, while his two pet gargoyles sported about at his feet. Sally saw with astonishment that he was not a doll, but a real little man, or, more properly speaking, a little dwarf, with a great head as bald as a billiard ball. This defect was partially concealed by one little tuft of hair or scalp lock, which had a dreadful habit of lifting itself straight up in the air whenever it did not agree with the sentiments expressed by its wearer. As for the back of his head, it was as smooth as the palm of your hand, a fact which had long ago firmly convinced its owner that it was extremely impolite ever to turn his back on anyone. He had, in consequence, acquired a reputation for great courtesy, and was pointed out as a kind of Chesterfield to the rising generation of Toyland.

Great, flapping ears stuck out on either side of the Wizard’s little weazened face, while his big, bulging eyes were shaded by brows and lashes that, naturally white, were always carefully dyed to match the scalp lock, which, if the truth must be told, was dyed too. After a time the dye gradually wore off and grew lighter in color, so that when the great man neglected to visit his barber at proper intervals, his hair, not to mention his lashes, became gradually of a delicate green hue, having worked successively through every known shade of brown before it reached this undesirable tint. When in good condition, it was of a rich and glossy brown, shading upon black. “Streaky,” Bedelia cruelly declared it, the moment she laid eyes upon it.

But the most astonishing feature belonging to the Polly-nosed Saphead was his large, beak-like nose that, shining and fleshless, rose determinedly from the surrounding level of his countenance like the bill of a poll-parrot, and imparted to his general appearance an air of forever wishing to peer into mysteries. Never did question mark more continuously uprear a perpetual interrogation than did the great man’s inquiring nasal organ. Hence his name “The Polly-Nosed” which, far from being a term of ridicule, was on the contrary, a title of great respect. For were not parrots the wisest birds in all Toyland? Whatever the rest of the name meant in the general language of Toyland, we will not now pause to explain.

A real parrot of most brilliant plumage hung upside down on the back of the wise man’s chair, suspended by its claws and evidently fast asleep. While the gargoyles that Sally had at once perceived with great astonishment upon entering the hall, frisked about their master’s chair.

The little girl had never considered these queer creatures in any other position than close up under the eaves of a church. And she had always supposed that their chief occupation was to spout a great deal of water out of their huge mouths. These specimens, however, judging from their disorderly conduct, had never heard of such a place as a church. In fact, they were just then engaged in trying to swarm up the sides of their master’s chair, in order to pull down the parrot. That wise old fellow, knowing that in spite of their clumsy wings, they would never be able to reach him in his fastness without first wallowing all over their master, slept peacefully on, upside down as he was, and never paid any attention to them at all.

They certainly were remarkably hideous looking creatures, having apparently been left off when not more than half finished, for they possessed only a head and shoulders, with great front paws and strong, cruel looking claws. In addition to these, they each sported a pair of dragon-like wings. They had great mouths that very nearly met around at the back of their necks, and huge, bulging eyes, and altogether were anything but pretty pets.

However, they crouched on the floor at a gesture from the Wizard, who now hurriedly got himself up out of his big chair, and came forward, bowing and scraping with the most effusive courtesy. He had big eyes that stuck out dreadfully and gave them a ridiculous resemblance to the gargoyles, and so fearfully did they wiggle and roll about that Sally began to fear they would hop out of their sockets altogether before he had finished his profuse greetings.

He seemed especially glad to see Sally, whom he at once perceived to be of his own kind, and quite different from the inhabitants of Toyland.

Everybody having greeted everybody else with much politeness and warmth, the King announced that he would be greatly pleased if the Wizard would show Sally the wonders of his tower, especially the Department of the Sun, in which they were all greatly interested.

At this the Wizard appeared greatly flattered and begged them to excuse him for a moment. He hastened to the far end of the room where the gargoyles had briskly renewed their efforts to get at the parrot, seized that still soundly sleeping bird, and proceeded to hang him up by his claws on a high bracket that had originally served to support his own cage. Polly slept serenely and the Wizard, having tethered the gargoyles to the legs of his great chair, returned to the waiting party. This greatly displeased the gargoyles for by this time they had discovered Bedelia, and were quite willing to lose the parrot if they might get at her. It must be confessed, Bedelia did not like their looks at all and hung to Sally’s protecting arm, although she had held up her head and looked back over her shoulders with a provoking grin as the whole company left the hall and began to ascend a narrow and winding flight of stairs that led to the top of the tower.

Up and up they went, finally stepping out upon a wide platform or veranda that ran all around the tower, and Sally saw that the great round sun—which she perceived at a glance to be nothing more nor less than a big electric light within a dazzling globe of cut-glass—hung directly over the tower. The child understood at once that the Wizard’s great power lay in his knowledge of electricity. However, she made no comment, nor even hinted at the fact that she had ever heard of such a thing.

She was not at all surprised that the Wizard offered very few explanations. In fact, he was very jealous of his methods of working, and feared continually that somebody else might discover them. As there was no patent office in Toyland, the best thing he could do was to keep his secrets to himself, which he accordingly did to perfection.

The Sign Post, still in faithful attendance, whispered to Sally that the great surface of the sun was kept clean by hundreds of tiny elves who were known as the Sunshine Fairies and who spent all their lives rubbing and polishing the glittering cut-glass surface.

“Once in the beginning,” he said solemnly, “they grew weary and fell asleep, and the face of the sun became dark and dusty for want of rubbing, so that we had an eclipse.”

Sally smiled, thinking it a great deal more likely that something in connection with the electric plan had gotten out of order. However, she offered no comment but nodded and smiled.

“Since then,” continued the Sign Post, “the elves have been divided into two companies, and at stated times they are sent off to Sleepy Town for rest. Then when they return the others go. It is a plan that works very well.”

“Much better than having eclipses all the time,” broke in Bedelia sharply. She was not very sure what an eclipse was, but had come to the conclusion that it must be something unpleasant and disagreeable.

Sally now perceived myriads of the little Sunshine Fairies slipping down the cold and glittering sunbeams, and right jolly creatures they seemed to be. Each one had two pair of hands and arms so that when one pair grew tired of rubbing and polishing, the other might come into play.

Sally was not surprised to find the sunbeams cold, as the moonbeams in Sleepy Town had been warm and quite springlike in their temperature. However, she did feel curious concerning the manner in which they were regulated, as the sunlight at noon was ever so much brighter than it was at morning or evening. Accordingly she inquired of the ever ready Sign Post, as she had a vague idea that the Wizard rather disliked being questioned.

It was immediately explained to her that the light was regulated by means of many folds of soft gauze, which were operated by means of ropes and pulleys and in as many thicknesses as were required. They were also in various shades of yellow, pink and violet and soft gray, so that a most beautiful twilight could at any time be had for the asking by simply arranging the gauze in appropriate color and thickness.

It all seemed so simple that Sally was beginning to think the Wizard had won his fame very easily. That personage, who had of course felt obliged to give the most of his attention to the King and Queen, now led the way down the narrow and winding stairs, a journey which the Sign Post made in about half as many steps with his long legs.

Very shortly they were back again in the big audience hall. Everything was just as they had left it, the parrot still asleep and hanging up like a bat by his claws, and the gargoyles both dozing, one under the Wizard’s great chair and the other upon it, each with one eye open.

Sally, who had noticed Bedelia’s somewhat hostile attitude, was relieved to find all the creatures asleep. But they were not long to remain so, for the noise made by the party in returning speedily woke them. The parrot, with a shrill cry, flew straight to her favorite perch on the back of her master’s chair. Being still half asleep, she did not perceive the dear little pet that occupied it until a lusty tug at her tail and the dreadful consciousness that she had parted company with several of her best tail feathers caused her to fly to the floor, squawking and chattering.

Immediately both the gargoyles gave chase, but Polly, far from retreating, turned boldly to face her tormentors. In a moment Bedelia had thrown herself into the thick of the fray and there ensued a very bad quarter of an hour for everybody all around. Fur and feathers flew and Polly, reinforced by Bedelia, would have scored a signal victory owing to the fact that the gargoyles were tied up, while the parrot, after delivering a series of blows with beak and claws, could always get out of the range of their jaws. Finally the Wizard, whom none of them seemed to mind the least bit, succeeded in restoring order. The gargoyles were driven off to a far corner where they were tied up in disgrace, and Polly, minus her tail feathers, was shut up in her cage, squawking and protesting every step of the way.

Meantime, Bedelia quickly secured the bone of contention, namely the brilliant tail feathers, and stuck them into her fur behind her ears, where they stood up impudently, giving her rather the aspect of an Indian squaw.

Peace having been restored, afternoon tea was brought in and served by a number of jumping-jacks, who were in fine livery and powdered wigs. The jumping-jacks were exclusively in the service of the Wizard and very fine servants they proved to be. To be sure, one of them would occasionally collapse and fall in a limp heap on the floor, scattering tea and cakes all over the place. But as jumping-jacks usually do collapse and sprawl on the ground unless properly held up by the string that always grows out of the tops of their heads, nobody seemed to think anything of it, or to mind it in the least.

It seemed rather a shame to Sally that they should be compelled to wear powdered wigs, thus covering up forever that most important string. The poor creatures could never be quite sure when they were going to collapse. Besides, what a quantity of tea and cakes was always being wasted! She could not exactly figure it all out and confided her dilemma to the Sign Post. He remarked that even were the powdered wigs dispensed with, there would be nobody to hold up the strings.

While this was very true, it did not help Sally in the least, and she was rather glad when the Queen declared that it was time to leave, and the whole party, having bade good-bye to the Wizard, with thanks for the pleasant if somewhat strenuous visit, returned to the palace.