ALTHOUGH there was no night in Toyland, a species of twilight prevailed after a certain hour, not dark enough to require lights, but it still proved deliciously restful after a day of perfect and brilliant sunshine.

These twilights were, of course, engineered by the Wizard from his tower, and by means of the gauze arrangements that the Sign Post had explained to Sally, were blue, pink, yellow, green, and so on, according to the fancy of the magician.

It was quite the fad to give afternoon teas that matched the twilight in color, and as a bulletin was posted each morning at the Wizard’s front door announcing the shade of the twilight to come, the rest was an easy matter. As soon as the diminishing sunlight proclaimed the approach of evening, myriads of fireflies were let loose in all the rooms of the palace, furnishing all the light that was necessary. Indeed, Toyland knew nothing of lamps or candles, gas or electric light. The cooking was all done with fuel, the secret of whose preparation was known to the Wizard alone. It was non-explosive and burned without consuming away, so that one good-sized chunk would last forever. In fact, when a person went to invest in fuel, he first had his cook stove measured and then ordered to be sent home a block of exactly the right dimensions. When he wanted it lit all he had to do was to use the bellows that hung by the side of every stove. This started the fire at once, and an occasional application kept it going. When the bellows was hung up for good, the fuel went out. In every kitchen was employed a boy who did nothing but blow the fire with the bellows. With such a state of affairs, conflagrations were unknown and, in fact, unheard of. To be sure, there were plenty of iron fire companies who appeared at intervals with other toys from the world of human beings, but their occupation was gone forever, and they were obliged to seek other pursuits, usually being given a place in the standing army, a position for which their brilliant uniforms easily fitted them.

On this particular evening after returning from the Wizard’s palace,—it was a pink evening, by the way—it was announced much to Sally’s delight that the Weather Prophet had declared snow for the following morning. If Sally was pleased, she was just as much astonished, for the weather was warm and the month she was quite sure was June. However, as the Wizard managed the Weather Prophet, who was only his mouth-piece, nobody ever knew, it appeared, what sort of weather might be expected within the next few hours. The Queen suspected that snow had been ordered for Sally’s benefit, and said so with a smile; while the King suggested that they should all go over to visit the Weather Prophet, as there was nothing especially amusing laid out for the evening. This was readily agreed to by everyone, and as soon as dinner was over they all started forth to walk to the house of the personage who ruled the weather.

The evening was beautiful. A rosy flush rested upon everything, while every wayside tree was filled with fireflies. To be sure, Bedelia declared that the pinkish glow made them all look as if they had scarletina. But as nobody in Toyland had ever heard of such a thing as scarletina, her joke fell very flat indeed.

A short walk brought them to the house of the Weather Prophet. At one period of her life Sally would have called it a glass box, set up on end. And that was certainly what it did look like. They caught a glimpse of a mass of fluffy drapery within and then Bedelia exclaimed in a tone of disappointment and chagrin, “Why, it’s nothing but a paper doll!”

Sure enough, a paper doll it was, and a lady doll at that. Sally had seen just such dolls hung upon her Christmas trees year after year. In fact, she had often helped to make the fluffy skirts of plaited crÉpe paper.

The Sign Post here whispered that the skirts were really the most wonderful thing about the Weather Prophet, as they changed color with the changes of the weather.

Sally now observed hanging over the door a glass sign on which was printed in large, golden letters

WHEN I WEAR PINK, A STORM IS DUE,
WHEN SKIES ARE CLEAR, MY SKIRTS ARE BLUE.

In fact, the glass sign began to repeat the stanza in a very loud voice as soon as the party was within hailing distance, and kept repeating it over and over until the Weather Prophet angrily ordered it to be quiet, whereupon it became so sulky that it clouded itself all over and became quite dim.

As soon as the Weather Prophet could make herself heard, she greeted her guests with the greatest affability, and when questioned concerning the impending storm replied by pointing with a smile to her draperies, which certainly were as pink as could be.

“As there never is any rain here,” she explained, “a storm usually—in fact, as a rule—means a snow storm.” Then with a friendly nod at Sally, she added, “In your country, where I once lived, you have many kinds of storms.”

To this Bedelia promptly responded before Sally had time to answer, “Snow storms, hail storms, rain storms, thunder storms and brain storms!”

“We have thunder storms here, too, but never any rain,” replied the Weather Prophet.

She was very pretty, and confided to Sally that she was the Wizard’s wife, but that as she had to remain where her draperies could be influenced by the weather, she seldom went to the tower.

“Besides which, I cannot abide his horrid gargoyles,” she added, with a contemptuous sniff.

Sally remembered how stuffy the big hall in the tower had been and did not at all blame the pretty doll for preferring her own bright and airy glass house with its many ventilators and the gay, striped awnings that could be spread out when the sun was too glaring.

As the neat, gold paper watch that the Weather Prophet wore at her belt now pointed to the hour of nine and Sally was beginning to look tired, they all took leave of their charming hostess and wended their way back to the palace, where the Queen with an affectionate kiss dismissed Sally that she might seek the rest that she so greatly needed.

“What on earth would nurse think if she could see us going to bed at ten o’clock?” exclaimed the child, as she cuddled close up to Bedelia, already half asleep on the dainty linen pillow.

“What would she think if she could see any of it, especially the gargoyles?” returned the little bear sleepily.

Sally burst out laughing, remembering nurse’s dismay at sight of one small mouse. But before her merry laugh had ceased to echo through the room, her eyelids fell drowsily. She was fast asleep.

They slept long and soundly, and were at last awakened by the scraping of shovels and the sound of carts and horses in the street below. Quickly Sally sprang out of bed, followed by Bedelia, who fell all over herself and very nearly upset Sally in her anxiety to get to the window.

A strange sight met their eyes. In the street below were moving back and forth a myriad of little carts, each drawn by one horse, and presided over by a jumping-jack. But wonderful to relate, instead of shoveling up the snow and carrying it away, the drivers were unloading it as fast as they could and spreading it over everything. Down the road and as far as she could see, the child beheld a company of Sign Posts that were mounted on huge ladders and busily engaged in sprinkling the snow over the tops and branches of the stiff little trees. They also hung numbers of glittering icicles on the boughs and twigs.

Without waiting to see any more, Sally dressed with the greatest possible haste and flew to find her own especial Sign Post. Him she found waiting patiently in the hall below, and in response to her eager queries, he explained that, as Sally already knew, the temperature in Toyland never varied. Therefore there was neither rain nor real snow. The snow that now lay thickly spread over everything was manufactured by the Wizard, who alone knew how to make it.

“So you see,” concluded the Sign Post, “we can have winter whenever Their Majesties wish for a sleigh ride.”

They were walking along the garden path by this time, the crisp snow crunching under their feet. Sally thought that Toyland had never looked so beautiful as now, with every tree and roof sparkling with the glittering snow crystals. The child picked up a few icicles and put them carefully into her pocketbook for future reference. She felt very much puzzled to see such a topsy-turvy state of affairs as existed in Toyland. The idea of snow being shoveled out of carts instead of being shoveled into them! She could but reflect, however, that a snow storm in the nursery must have been planned and executed under very nearly the same circumstances.

“To be sure, they are only a lot of dolls,” she said to herself. “No wonder that the Wizard is able to deceive them in so many ways.”

“What becomes of all this stuff?” just then demanded Bedelia. She had been digging down into the snow with much vigor and had promptly discovered that it was neither cold nor wet.

“The snow,” replied the Sign Post with dignity, “is the property of the Wizard. When it has lain here for what he considers a proper length of time, his servants gather it up and cart it away and it is stored up for future use.”

Just then a great jingling of bells was heard and a huge sleigh came swinging up the driveway. In it was seated no less a personage than the Polly-nosed Saphead himself, wrapped in furs and evidently in a great state of pleasurable excitement.

The poll parrot was perched on the back of the seat, while much to Sally’s dismay the ugly heads of the two gargoyles appeared poking up from among the fur robes.

“Come for a sleigh ride,” cried the parrot before the Wizard had time to move or speak. “Come for a sleigh ride, a sleigh ride, a sleigh ride!” and she would no doubt have kept on repeating the invitation indefinitely had not one of the gargoyles suddenly reared up on the back seat and made a grab for her brilliant tail. Whereupon the Wizard felt obliged to interfere and it was some time before peace was restored and the great man descended with as much pomp and ceremony as the circumstances permitted.

He was such a bundle of furs that had it not been for his big head, which was crowned with a large fur cap, it would have been almost impossible to find his little shrunken body at all. He greeted Sally with great warmth and announced that he had come to take her and the royal party for a sleigh ride. Here Bedelia remarked in a stage whisper that had the “royal party” been present, he would not have put Sally first in his invitation. Nobody heeding her, however, she proceeded to devote her attention to the parrot, the gargoyles having been left outside in the sleigh.

While feeling rather doubtful about riding in the same vehicle with the ugly beasts as well as Polly and Bedelia—for she knew very well that they would all have to go along—Sally felt obliged to accept so pressing an invitation, especially when offered by such a mighty personage. And word was accordingly sent upstairs to the King and Queen who presently came hurrying down, all ready for the ride.

In the excitement everyone had forgotten about breakfast, that is, everyone but Bedelia. She now dived below stairs and made a swift raid on the dining-room, whence she shortly returned with every evidence of having restored exhausted nature with a great number of cookies, judging from the crumbs that adorned her fur.

As there was no further reason for delay, the whole party climbed into the big sleigh. The Queen and Sally were on the back seat with Bedelia between them, the King and the Wizard on the front seat with Polly perched on the back of it directly behind her master. The gargoyles were perched up in front with the driver, much to the dismay of that dignified personage, who disliked them heartily. Besides, he considered, and with some reason, that their presence detracted in no small degree from his own liveried dignity. However, he was too much afraid of them to vent his displeasure as he might have done had they not been such ugly looking customers. The footman, too, felt very much aggrieved at having his quarters curtailed by the admission of such passengers. However, there was no help for it, and each one being finally settled in his place, the sleigh started off with a great jingling of bells and waving of plumes that stood up stiffly on the heads of the mettlesome steeds and also reared themselves aloft on the pillars of the high dashboard.

The Wizard remarked that he had invited his wife to come along but that as she objected to so much live stock, she had preferred to remain where she was. Sally wondered where the Weather Prophet would have roosted had she accepted the Wizard’s invitation, as there did not appear to be a square inch of unoccupied room. However, she said nothing and the sleigh sped merrily along, finally leaving the city and swinging out into the open country.

Here also winter fair and sparkling prevailed in all its dazzling splendor. The King remarked that there would be fine skating to which the Wizard replied that he had caused several pair of skates to be brought along and that they would try the skating pond when the ladies had had enough of the sleigh.

This proposition was hailed with delight by all concerned. Sally could not help wondering where they were going to find any ice. Her curiosity was presently satisfied when the sleigh drew up beside a large sheet of clear glass, which had been lightly sprinkled with the snow powder, so that it was not too slippery for roller skating. Roller skating it was to which the Wizard now invited his guests. And in a few moments they were all speeding merrily along, each one trying to outstrip the others. Even the gargoyles each buckled a pair of skates on his front and only paws, and joined the merry company. And by dint of balancing themselves with their wings, they managed very well indeed.

The Queen was highly delighted as the skating pond was something entirely new, and the whole party remained circling round and round until the Wizard, looking at his watch, suddenly declared that it was high time for twilight and that although it greatly grieved him to stop so delightful a diversion, he really must hasten back to his tower in order to attend to the same. He added that his wife desired the party to take tea with her and that it would be a lavender tea.

Everybody now took off the roller skates and piled into the sleigh, the homeward way being taken by a different route in order that they might lose none of the beauties of the scenery.

As they approached the spot on which the pretty little glass house of the Weather Prophet had stood, a cry of dismay broke from the lips of all,—at least all but those of the Wizard. The house was gone, and not the smallest trace of either house or Prophet remained to tell the tale. Neither did the most systematic search reveal anything. The baffled Wizard retired to his tower to consult the stars, as he declared, while the rest of the party hurried to the palace to get their own lavender tea.