“I wonder if the lady lives here,” said Maida. The disconsolate lover knocked again, and again, and finally the door swung open and they all walked in. They were in a toy shop. The house looked--oh, ever so much larger now that they were in, than it did from the outside. There were long rooms filled with toys and dollies. There were benches and shelves where toys were being made by funny little men. The walls and rafters were hung with all sorts of jumping-jacks and--oh, everything children like. The lad who opened the door stood looking at them. He was dressed all in leather and his hair hung over his neck. Maida was sure she had never seen such a nice friendly looking boy. “My name is Billy,” he said. “Whose little boy are you?” “If you please,” replied Maida, “I’m not a boy--I’m a little girl,” and she threw open her long fur cloak so he could see what a pretty dress she wore. At once all the little workmen stopped work and crowded about her, for strange as it may seem they had hardly ever seen a little girl. Maida was quite frightened and looked about for the Man with the Growly Voice--or the Disconsolate Lover, but as neither of them were in sight she ran to Billy for protection and cuddled in his arms. “What’s the matter with them?” she faltered. Billy laughed. “They’re curious to see you,” he replied, “because you’re a little girl.” “Little girls must be scarce up here,” observed Maida (still nestling close to Billy). Billy laughed again. “Scarce,” he said, “why I should say they _are_!” So he sent the workmen back to their benches and gave Maida all the ice-cream she could eat for breakfast. It was good ice-cream too, still--just for once she wouldn’t have minded if she could have had a cup of coffee and a slice of bacon. After breakfast Billy showed her all over the shop, and she was allowed to see the workmen making toys. When they returned to the great room who should they meet but a huge Eskimo and his pretty little daughter, both dressed entirely in furs. The Eskimo was very grand. “I am Kankakee,” he said, and waving his hand toward his daughter added, “this is Kokomo, my daughter,” upon which Kokomo came to Maida and made a lovely curtsey saying something that sounded like--well I can hardly tell you just what it was like. Did you ever hear an angry old hen calling her chickens? Well it was something like that, and something like the rattle on the trolley car when the man lets off the brake--for poor little Kokomo could not speak English--only Eskimo. “So you’re an Eskimo,” said Maida, “can you tell me about the Wishing Post?” The big Eskimo drew himself up proudly. “I can tell you all about it,” he replied, “for I am a great man, and very wise, also I know many things. The Wishing Post grows out of the earth at the Top of the World and if one makes a wish upon it the wish will come true.”