My, how cramped and stiff she was! Both arms and legs were asleep, and she wavered, so she could hardly stand upright, which of course made her look more than ever like a marionette. “_That_ isn’t a doll,” finally said one of the boys. “Oh yes,” replied the Page, “it is a marionette made by the toy maker who lives across the Forbidden Land.” Maida forgot her danger in her embarrassment and snapped out, “I’m not.” “Why, she can speak,” said the boy in great surprise. “Oh yes,” replied the Page, coolly, “and she can run too.” “I wish I had a chance,” thought Maida, slyly peering about for a possible avenue of escape; but there was none, for all the boys were crowded about admiring her. “Can she laugh?” asked one, and without waiting for an answer, he tickled Maida in the ribs. Well you know how it is yourself when somebody holds you with one hand so you can’t get away, and points the forefinger of the other hand at you and it comes closer and closer, till finally--why of course you just can’t help laughing. At any rate, Maida couldn’t; serious as was her plight, she burst into a scream of laughter (for she was an awfully ticklish little girl), which filled all the boys with delight. The one who had tickled her was so elated with his success he tried a new trick. “She can weep, too, mayhap,” he said, and pinched her. Oh, a real hard pinch--right on the arm! There was no doubt about it, Maida could weep--and _did_. “You cruel thing,” she screamed, and burst into tears, at which the boys only laughed the more. “She’s not a toy, she’s alive,” said the cruel boy staring at her. “Oh, no,” said the Page, “if it were alive it would be put to death, for it’s a stranger. It’s a toy.” “What’ll you take for it?” cried one--and in a moment all the boys were chaffering with the Page, offering him their most precious possessions, and trying to bargain for Maida. But the Page refused to sell.