The moment Bab stepped inside the outer fringe of trees she seemed to be in the densest sort of a forest. As she looked about her, bewildered, she could not even see where she had entered it. The trees and bushes seemed to have closed in tightly behind her, and vines and creepers covered with queer sweet flowers crossed and recrossed the path, and appeared to be growing denser every second. Then, as she glanced ahead, she saw that there was no path at all. She was in the very heart of the wildest of woodland tangles. How should she find her way out? And who would point out to her the road to Santa Claus’s house? “I wish Wiggles were here!” sighed Bab. “I’m sure there are bears and wolves in this big dark forest, and Wiggles could have frightened them away!” Then she thought of what Bizzybuzz had said in the nursery when he was trying to teach them how to make believe. “Wouldn’t it be funny if Wiggles really _were_ with me all the time?” she thought; and aloud she said, “Here, Wiggles, Wiggles, Wiggles!” But there was no response, and, feeling a little disappointed, she walked on through the Wonderful Wood alone. It was very still. Not a twig snapped; not a bird sang in the Wonderful Wood. Everything seemed to be asleep. She pushed forward through the thickets, saying to herself: “I must find Santa Claus! I must not forget what Mother Goose said! I must not forget my errand!” It was hard work, this struggling through the heavy underbrush, and once or twice Bab was obliged to rest. But still she murmured to herself: “I must hurry! I must find Santa Claus!” Suddenly the way became easier and smoother. In a moment she came out into a little green dell which was filled with music. Looking about her, she saw two little goblins, like Bizzybuzz himself, playing on tiny green instruments that looked like lutes, and singing. She could not make out all the words of their song, but the general burden seemed to be something like this: “Our wings, how sure and fleet! Our voices, oh, how sweet! How kind our hearts and wise! How green our goggle-eyes! “We are the elves of mirth, Most wondrous of the earth! Oh, world! pay homage meet At Klang’s and Tinkle’s feet!” When they saw Bab, they began to make a series of very low bows, crying in sing-song tones, “Come and tell us how charming we are, and we will love you!” “But I don’t think you are at all charming!” said Bab, truthfully. “I think you are vain and silly, and very ugly indeed!” “But hear us sing!” cried the creatures. “Listen to our sweet, melodious, marvellous, exquisite, and never-again-to-be-equalled voices!” And once more they began to sing. This time their song was pretty, and sounded like a tinkling brook mixed with a summer breeze: