And Aunt Mary read lovely books too, all about lords and ladies, while all of Maida’s books were about, Where is Peru? and, How many is six times eight? Poor Maida, she had so many troubles--but you understand, don’t you? So she wished and wished with all her heart that she were a really grown-up; that she could read those lovely books and have her hair fuzzed all over her head--that she could wear those traily, hangy gowns, and stay up nights, and never, _never_, NEVER have to eat anything but ICE-CREAM. Chapter II If you stand with one hand on the Wishing Post, and think hard of what you would like most in all the world, your wish comes true. Isn’t that lovely? Sounds like a fairy tale, doesn’t it? But it isn’t a fairy tale at all, it’s really true. Of course those old men with the goggles and the bald heads don’t believe it. If you ask them they will tell you the North Pole is just the end of the axis of the earth, whatever _that_ may mean, and they will insist it isn’t a Wishing Post at all. Now, when they tell you this, here’s a crusher for them. Ask them how they know. Ask them if they’ve ever been there to see. Just see what they say to that. Maida has been there, and she knows all about it. To commence at the very beginning, this is how she came to make the trip. One evening, Maida was lying on the hearth kicking her fat legs in the air and watching the Flame Folk when she heard _somebody_ (you know which one I mean--the one with the white cap and apron) coming. Now of course Maida wasn’t the least bit sleepy and she did not want to go to bed, so she slipped out of the door and down the long hall to the very end. Then she heard somebody talking--oh, such a fine voice somebody had, just like the growl of a bear--but a nice soft growl, mind you--and what the Man with the Growly Voice said must have been ever so funny, for Aunt Mary laughed and laughed. So Maida peeked. There sat Aunt Mary in one of the traily, fluffy dresses, and her pretty neck and arms looked so pink and soft, and her eyes were so bright and her cheeks were so red, that Maida envied her clear to the tips of her toes. The Man with the Growly Voice sat oh very close to Aunt Mary, and he was smiling a little and holding Aunt Mary’s hand (Aunt Mary did not seem to mind a bit), then Maida heard him say--“Name the day.”