But to know what they saw, we must first go back to Santa Claus’s house, where we left Bab sleeping in front of the big fire. She was dreaming of the Sand Man and the owls and the Wooden Cow and the Idle Princess all at once, when she was awakened by hearing her name called. She sat up and rubbed her eyes, and Wiggles barked. Santa Claus was standing near them talking to a new-comer, and who should that new-comer be but Bizzybuzz! “Mother Goose thought it was about time for me to look you up,” he explained, after Bab had greeted him enthusiastically. “Santa Claus tells me that you have been doing very well.—Aha!” he added, seeming pleased. “So you have the dog at last? What did I tell you? But let me hear more about this rescue of the Wooden Cow. What did you say the Brownies wanted to do with the pieces?” “They wanted—” began Bab; but Santa Claus interrupted her. “My dear child,” he said, “though they were indeed sent by the Wicked King as they told you, they were sent chiefly for the purpose of trying to stop _you_ in your journey and preventing you from reaching _me!_ They tried their best to get you to help them chop up my cow; and if you had, you would have been in the power of the Wicked King forever and ever! The reason that they wanted a horn of the magic cow was that with one of them or even a piece of one you can turn people into wood at a moment’s notice! And the Wicked King and Grump are always on the lookout for spells,—particularly those which can be put to a bad use in bad hands.” Bab was much shocked by all this; but Bizzybuzz nodded his head, and said: “Of course; that’s simple enough. Everyone knows _their_ methods. It’s lucky for you, Bab, that you did not listen to their coaxing!” Bab thought so, too, and she felt more ashamed than ever when she remembered that she had even hesitated for a moment. “Well,” said Santa Claus, “now that the little girl has done her duty so well and served me so usefully, how is she to get home?” “Do you want to go directly back to Mother Goose?” asked Bizzybuzz, turning to her. She hesitated. “I—I’d like to help Dick first,” she answered. “He has the hardest task of us all; and then, you see, I should most awfully love to help set poor Mother Goose’s son free!” “Good!” cried Santa Claus, heartily. “Well thought of! You shall go to your brother this very night, and”—he paused and smiled slyly—“I know how you will go!” “How?” asked Bab. “Never you mind!” chuckled the old gentleman, mysteriously. “You’ll like it, I promise you!” “But what help can she be to her brother?” asked Bizzybuzz. “Nothing but the very strongest magic could be of any use to him in the Red City.” “Well,” said Santa Claus, “why shouldn’t she have a bit of magic about her, just in case she needed it? And as a matter of fact,” he added, “it’s odd, you know, that she didn’t collect any magic coming through the Wonderful Wood.” “Perhaps she did,” suggested Bizzybuzz. “Did you drink from any spring, Bab?”