American Fairy Tales by L. Frank Baum Author of FATHER GOOSE; HIS BOOK, THE WONDERFUL WIZARD OF OZ, ETC. Contents THE BOX OF ROBBERS THE GLASS DOG THE QUEEN OF QUOK THE GIRL WHO OWNED A BEAR THE ENCHANTED TYPES THE LAUGHING HIPPOPOTAMUS THE MAGIC BON BONS THE CAPTURE OF FATHER TIME THE WONDERFUL PUMP THE DUMMY THAT LIVED THE KING OF THE POLAR BEARS THE MANDARIN AND THE BUTTERFLY THE BOX OF ROBBERS No one intended to leave Martha alone that afternoon, but it happened that everyone was called away, for one reason or another. Mrs. McFarland was attending the weekly card party held by the Women’s Anti-Gambling League. Sister Nell’s young man had called quite unexpectedly to take her for a long drive. Papa was at the office, as usual. It was Mary Ann’s day out. As for Emeline, she certainly should have stayed in the house and looked after the little girl; but Emeline had a restless nature. “Would you mind, miss, if I just crossed the alley to speak a word to Mrs. Carleton’s girl?” she asked Martha. “’Course not,” replied the child. “You’d better lock the back door, though, and take the key, for I shall be upstairs.” “Oh, I’ll do that, of course, miss,” said the delighted maid, and ran away to spend the afternoon with her friend, leaving Martha quite alone in the big house, and locked in, into the bargain. The little girl read a few pages in her new book, sewed a few stitches in her embroidery and started to “play visiting” with her four favorite dolls. Then she remembered that in the attic was a doll’s playhouse that hadn’t been used for months, so she decided she would dust it and put it in order. Filled with this idea, the girl climbed the winding stairs to the big room under the roof. It was well lighted by three dormer windows and was warm and pleasant. Around the walls were rows of boxes and trunks, piles of old carpeting, pieces of damaged furniture, bundles of discarded clothing and other odds and ends of more or less value. Every well-regulated house has an attic of this sort, so I need not describe it. The doll’s house had been moved, but after a search Martha found it away over in a corner near the big chimney. She drew it out and noticed that behind it was a black wooden chest which Uncle Walter had sent over from Italy years and years ago—before Martha was born, in fact. Mamma had told her about it one day; how there was no key to it, because Uncle Walter wished it to remain unopened until he returned home; and how this wandering uncle, who was a mighty hunter, had gone into Africa to hunt elephants and had never been heard from afterwards. The little girl looked at the chest curiously, now that it had by accident attracted her attention.