I’ve got a frightful cold. My Ms and Bs Are all mixed up, likewise my Ls and Ds. That Gnome King there, Oh, isn’t he a beauty! Because, he said, I ran away from duty. Fixed me by some enchantment to this stone, And here he’s left me ever since, alone. (_Takes bottle from pocket._) Strolling the other day upon the sand, I Found this. B. R. A. N. D. Y. spells brandy. It isn’t bad, though how did it come here? There’s been a shipwreck, that is very clear. The country’s full of geese, too, it’s absurd! Which ever way I turned I found a bird, All dressed in sailor’s jackets, caps and things, With spy glasses stuck underneath their wings. (_Enter MONA L. running._) MONA. There, I’ve escaped them! Now to find the shore, I don’t think they will catch me any more. (_Moves toward tree._) It must be this way, I can scent the sea. Ah! Who are you, sir, under that old tree. NOO. Don’t be afraid, fair maid, I cannot harm you; Glued to this stone these _tones_ need not alarm you. I can’t get up (_tries to rise_.) MONA. Why not? NOO. The Gnome has tied me. MONA. You have a story. Tell me. NOO. Sit beside me. (_MONA sits on rock other side of tree._) Long years ago I was a boy. MONA. How strange! NOO. A little tiny boy, so high. MONA. A change! NOO. I had an uncle, and I _was_ a prince. My father died. _He_ seized the throne. (_MONA starts_,) You wince. MONA. Oh not at all. Go on! I’ve heard a tale. Like yours before. It’s very like a whale. NOO. My tail! there’s more behind. He then seized _me_ And shipped me off, a little boy, to sea. For many years I’ve wandered as a sailor, And earned my salt as cook on board a whaler. Shipwrecked upon this most unkindly shore, I’ve lived a wretched life ten years or more. The manikins who live down there below, Took me, and made me giant in a show: “Walk up! walk up! just going to begin.” (_imitates Showman._) That’s what they used to say to bring folks in— “This giant is all real, no sawdust here!” MONA. Made you a giant, did they. That was queer. NOO. “There’s no deception, gents! no pads or straw!” And then they’d pinch my legs to make me roar. Stick pins into my calves. MONA. Oh, that was cruel. NOO. And if I would’t act they’d stop my gruel. Well, now I’ve joined the army, serve the nation. That means long drills, stiff collars and starvation. I’ll make a raft or boat, and get away, So sure as my name’s Noodle, miss, some day. MONA. What name?