"My prisoner is what I said," retorted the little old man. "I keep a toy shop in Toyland and I'm going to put you in my show window and sell you to the first big toy that wants to buy you for a Christmas present for his little toy at home." "I d-don't understand," stammered Jimmieboy. "Well, you will in a minute," said the little old man. "We citizens of Toyland keep Christmas just as much as you people do, only our toys are children just as your toys are toys. You sell us when you can catch us, and we sell you when we catch you--and, what is more, the boy who is kind to his toys in your country finds his toy master in Toyland kind to him. I am told that you are very good to your toys and keep them very carefully, so you needn't be afraid that you will be given to one of our rough toys, who will drag you around by one leg and leave you standing on your head in the closet all night." "But I don't want to be sold," said Jimmieboy. "Well, you'd better, then," retorted the little old man, "because if some one doesn't buy you we'll pack you up in a box and send you out to China to the missionaries. Step right in here, please." Jimmieboy did not wish to obey in the least, but he didn't dare rebel against the commands of his captor, so, with an anxious glance down the street, he started to do as he was told, when a singular sight met his eye. In glancing down the street he had caught sight of the toy-shop window, and what should he see there but his friends Whitty and Billie and Johnnie and sweet little Bettie Perkins who lived across the way, and half a dozen others of his small friends. "Fine display, eh?" said the little old man. "Great haul of children, eh?" he added. "Best window in town, and they'll sell like hot cakes." "You've got all my friends except Tommy Hicks," said Jimmieboy. "I know it," said the little old man. "We had Tommy this morning, too, but a plush rabbit living up on Main street came in and bought him to put in his little toy stocking. I don't envy Tommy much. He used to treat a plush rabbit he had very badly, and the one that bought him seemed to know it, for as he took Tommy out he kept punching him in the stomach and making him cry like a doll, calling 'mam-mah' and 'pah-pah' all the time. He gave me a dollar for Tommy, but I'll charge ten for you. They'll have to pay a good price for Whitty, too, because there's so much goes with him. He's got a collection of postage stamps in one pocket, a muffin ring and a picture book in another, and the front of his blouse is stuffed chock full of horse chestnuts and marbles. Whitty makes a singularly rich toy, and I think he'll sell as quickly as any of you." "How did you capture him?" asked Jimmieboy, who felt better now that he saw that he was not alone in this strange land. "Did he come through that crack that I came by?"