By this time the people had left the Plaza and were going home to dinner, or to supper, or to work, or wherever people go when a big crowd breaks up; and the streets were full of them. The three were jostled and pushed, as people always are in a narrow street when it is crowded. And before she realized what had happened, Maida was separated from Santa Claus and Billy, and swept away in an eddy of the crowd. She called and called, but no one answered. She was afraid to ask any of the Illusians where she was or how to get anywhere else because they would know she was a stranger; then she would be captured and turned over to the Queen; so she simply wandered about. But oh! she was so tired, and so drowsy; so when she came to a pretty park where there were some nice long benches and the trees cast a deep shadow, she decided to take a nap. She stretched out on the bench and closed her eyes. The first thing she knew she felt someone tapping her on the soles of the feet with a stick. Did you ever see a policeman wake up a tramp who had gone to sleep on a park bench when he shouldn’t by rapping him on the soles of the feet with his club? Well, that’s exactly what this Illusian policeman did to Maida. “Come, little girl,” said the policeman, “wake up!” Maida sat up drowsily, rubbing her eyes. “What’s the matter?” she asked. The policeman grinned knowingly. “Now, you know very well,” he replied, “that children in Illusia are not allowed to go to sleep till midnight.” Maida rubbed her eyes sleepily, and rose to her feet. She said to herself, “I used to complain at home when they made me go to bed at dark. Oh, dear! if I could _only_ go to sleep.” She ran after the policeman, who by this time was walking on, and said to him, “If you please, sir, how long is it till midnight?” The policeman looked at her astonished. “You must be a very ignorant little girl,” he said. “This is New Year’s Eve, which comes on the Fourth of July here in Illusia, and it won’t be midnight till half-past December.” So he strolled away. “Only July!” said Maida, “And I can’t go to sleep till December!” She thought with regret of that little pink and white bed at home, of the soft mattress, the downy pillows, and the coverlet she used to pull up about her chin when she nestled down to rest. Well, there was no use thinking of something she couldn’t have, so she commenced to walk about again. Then she realized she was hungry, oh, _very_ hungry! She passed a shop, over the door of which was a sign reading, “All kinds of fancy groceries.” So she went in and asked the man if she could buy something to eat. “Certainly,” said the shop-keeper, bowing politely, “we have splendid charlotte russe.” “Oh, no, nothing sweet,” said Maida. At this moment the shop-keeper’s clerk approached her, saying: “Won’t you try a piece of this fine candy?” “No, I don’t want candy,” answered Maida.