The first person she met was Kankakee. She gave him a scoldings but Kankakee paid no attention; he only laughed, and when Aurora threatened him, he only laughed the more. “Why, you can’t harm me, I am the friend of the great wizard,” he said pompously. “He knows all things and makes slaves of certain devils. If any one harms me, this wizard will pull down the stars, dry up the sea, and shake the earth. He told me these things himself.” “Oh, he did, did he?” replied Aurora angrily. “Well, we will see about that. If I catch anybody fooling with my stars, or shaking my earth, or drying up my sea, I will have him arrested very quickly, I can promise you that. Where is this wizard friend of yours?” Kankakee called the Man with the Growly Voice, who quickly came to him. Well, the Queen threatened them both with all kinds of horrible things, but Kankakee felt perfectly easy in his mind. “Protect me, my friend,” he said, “pull down a star or two, just to show her what you can do; or shake the earth. You needn’t shake it too much.” He paused expectantly. “Well, go on; I am waiting,” he said, “why don’t you shake the earth?” The Man with the Growly Voice was disgusted. “Kankakee,” he said, “you talk too much.” Then there was quite a scene. Aurora called some of her minions, who looked very threatening; Kankakee grew angry, because he had been deceived; so the Man with the Growly Voice felt very ill at ease. It happened that he was standing close to the Wishing Post. “My goodness!” he said, “I wish I was out of this!” And _off_ he flew into the air, out of sight, before any one could say “Jack Robinson”! Chapter XXIII Maida was grown up. There was no doubt about that. She could go anywhere she liked--she could do anything she chose--but it occurred to her there wasn’t any place she wanted to go--nor anything she cared to do. So she yawned. Her sensations were most peculiar. She could recollect just how she felt when she was a little girl,--and she realized that she felt very different since the great change had taken place,--and to be perfectly frank, she wasn’t sure that she liked the new feeling. Of course, one always hates to admit one has been wrong or made a mistake. Still--when one is sure of it--why it’s lots better to come out plump and confess it at once. Try it yourself next time and see. Well, it seemed to Maida as she sat there and tried to puzzle it out that there were two Maidas hidden away in her. One was the little girl she used to be, who always had such lots of fun and who enjoyed a good time. A little girl who liked everybody and whom everyone liked, but this little girl was hidden away down deep out of sight--bound some way so she couldn’t move. The other Maida was older and wiser, didn’t care to have a good time--that is, the _old_ kind of a good time--and was all stiff and starchy;--and really it’s terrible to have to feel dignified, and to have to do things you don’t care to do just because people expect them of you.