“A lot you know!” said Seven, looking back scornfully, but Kabumpo was too interested to care. Out of the windows of the big book houses leaped hundreds of the little Figure Heads, and they laughed and jeered at Pompa and Kabumpo. “Ho! Ho!” yelled one, leaning out so far it nearly fell on its Eight. “Wait till the Count sees ’em. He’ll make an example of ’em!” “What an awful country,” whispered Pompadore, ducking just in time, as a Four snatched at his hair from an open window. But just then they turned a corner and entered a large gloomy court. Sitting on a square and solid wood throne, surrounded by a guard of Figure Heads, sat the Giant Ruler of this strange city. “What have you got there, Seven?” roared the Ruler. “I am the Elegant Elephant and this is the Prince of Pumperdink,” announced Kabumpo before Seven could answer. Pompadore, himself, could say nothing for he had never before been addressed by a wooden Ruler in his life. And that is exactly what the King of the Figure Heads was—an ordinary school ruler, twice as large as a man, with arms and legs and a great square head set atop of his thin flat body. [Illustration: (unlabelled)] “I don’t care a rap _who_ you are. I want to know _what_ you are?” said the Ruler. “We are travelers,” spoke up Pompa, swallowing hard—“travelers in search of a Proper Princess.” “Well, you won’t find any here,” grunted the Ruler shortly. “We don’t believe in ’em!” “Would you mind telling me the name of your Kingdom,” asked Pompa, somewhat cast down by these words. “You have no heads,” announced the Ruler calmly, “or you would have known that this is Rith Metic. _I_,” he hammered himself upon the wooden chest—“I am its Ruler and every inch a King—King of the Figure Heads,” he added, glaring around as if he expected someone to contradict him. “All right! All right!” wheezed Kabumpo, bowing his head twice. “I knew twelve inches made a foot rule, but I never knew they made a King Rule. But could you give us some luncheon and allow us to pass peaceably through your Kingdom?” “Pass through!” exclaimed the King, standing up indignantly. “We don’t pass anyone through here. You’ve got to work your way through. Pass through, indeed! And when you’ve worked your way through we’ll put you in a problem and make an example of you.” “They’ll make a very good example, your Majesty,” said a tall thin individual standing next to the Ruler. He eyed the two cunningly. “If a thin Prince sets out on a fat elephant to find a Proper Princess, how many yards of fringe will the elephant lose from his robe and how bald will the Prince be at the end of the journey? I don’t believe anyone could figure that out,” he murmured gleefully. “It might be done by subtraction,” said the King, looking at the two critically. “Great hay stacks!” rumbled Kabumpo, glaring over his shoulder to see if he had lost any fringe so far. “What have we gotten into?”