Complete Works of L. Frank Baum

by L. Frank Baum

  “I suppose it will powder your clothes somewhat,” said he, “but they can be brushed clean before you leave the Valley.”

  The children enjoyed their novel luncheon. “It’s the first time,” whispered Dot to Tot, “I ever had all the candy I wanted to eat.”

  “Won’t we get sick?” asked the boy, who was busily eating a delicious peach — rose candy outside and a soft, delicate cream within.

  “I suppose so,” answered Dot, truthfully, “but there’s nothing else to eat, you see.”

  “Don’t want nuthin’ else,” said Tot.

  “Allegretti,” called the woman to one of the brown maids, “bring a dish of those new cocoanut-kisses for our guests. Won’t you have a few more maple caramels?” she asked, politely, turning to Dot.

  “No, thank you,” replied the child; “I’ve eaten so much already that I fear I shall be ill.”

  “Oh, nonsense!” returned the little man; “you cannot become ill eating this sort of candy, for it’s the purest in all the world. But if you lived here always you would doubtless become as fat as we are, and probably you would lose all your teeth.”

  “We’re not going to stay,” answered Dot, in alarm. “We shall have to start in just a few minutes.”

  “But not until you have taken a short walk around our Valley,” remonstrated the little man. “You may never come here again, you know, and it is a very sweet sight.”

  They agreed to join their kind host in a walk, and after the candy man had carefully dusted himself afresh with powdered sugar, they started out.

  As they walked up the street, they noticed that many people came to the doors of the candy houses and looked at the strangers with great curiosity. These people seemed made of many different kinds of candy, but all were quite fat, and had their clothes painted upon them in bright colors, like the candy images that are sold in shops at Christmas time.

  “Aren’t the people here very brittle?” asked Dot, as they walked along.

  “Yes, I may admit they are somewhat brittle,” answered the man. “That is one of the drawbacks we suffer from being made of candy. Only two days ago, Mr. Gunther, a particular friend of mine, fell down a hill and was broken into seventeen different pieces.”

  “Dear me!” exclaimed Dot. “What did you do with him?”

  “Oh, as he was ruined beyond repair, we divided him up among the neighbors who loved him best, and ate him the next morning for breakfast.”

  “Ate him!” cried the girl, who was greatly shocked.

  “Certainly; Mr. Gunther was a very sweet man.”

  “But this is horrible,” said Dot, with a shudder. “You are all cannibals!”

  “Cannibals! What are those?” inquired the candy man.

  “Why, people who eat each other,” said Dot.

  “Oh, then we are cannibals, sure enough,” declared the little man, calmly.

  “But cannibals are wicked creatures,” said the child, aghast at such savagery.

  “Is it wicked to eat candy in the country where you live?” demanded the man.

  “No; but then people are not made of candy there.”

  “Well, here there is nothing else than candy; so if we eat at all we must eat candy. Is it wicked to eat in the country you came from?”

  “No,” replied Dot, who was beginning to be puzzled at all this.

  “Then,” said the little man, “you cannot consider us wicked for eating each other. Of course, we never eat anyone who is not broken; but when a man breaks himself into seventeen parts, it is considered quite a compliment to him for the neighbors who feast upon his pieces.”

  This did not seem quite right to Dot, but she did not know how to reply; and to add to her confusion, the candy man suddenly held up his left hand, which he had placed behind him as he talked, and showed her that his thumb and two of the fingers were missing.

  “Why, what can have happened to them?” she asked, in real distress.

  The candy man looked at his hand carefully, and then quickly turned and looked at Tot.

  “There are marks of teeth on my hand,” said he, “and no one in this Valley has teeth except you two children.”

  “Tot!” cried Dot; “did you bite off this gentleman’s fingers?”

  Tot hung his head.

  “Answer me!” said the girl. “Have you been eating our friend?”

  “Well,” said Tot, slowly, “he said the folks here were good to eat; an’ — an’ — he held his hand behind his back — right in front of my mouth; an’ — so I took one of little bite off his fingers, an’ — “

  “Tot,” said Dot, “I’m ashamed of you! The idea of eating one who has been so kind to us, and so soon after luncheon, too!”

  “Pray, do not scold him,” said the candy man. “He says I am good to eat, and that makes me so proud that I shall not mind the loss of my fingers. When I have time I can get some new ones patched on; so it does not matter much in the least.”

  Still, Dot was hurt and angry at the occurrence, and Tot walked behind them with hanging head.

  Very soon they saw, sitting by the roadside, a child who was so exceedingly black in color that Dot exclaimed:

  “Surely, that baby isn’t made of chocolate!”

  “No,” said her friend, “that’s a licorice child. We have a few of them in the Valley and they are much admired. But here is our stream of pink lemonade, and we will cross it by this little bridge.”

  The bridge was remarkably pretty, being made of pea-green and orange-colored candy, twisted together and ornamented with dainty frosted work such as bakers put upon wedding cakes.

  Upon reaching the other side of the stream they found themselves near the mountains, which shut in the far side of the Valley. Dot looked up at these mountains and asked, curiously, “Who are all those people sitting on the rocks?”

  At the question, Tot looked up also and saw long rows of candy men and women sitting close together at the foot of the mountains.

  “Those people are the gum chewers,” replied their guide.

  “What are they doing there?” inquired the girl.

  “They are being punished,” returned the candy man, gravely. “If you look over yonder, to the left, you will see a number of low bushes. On these grow all kinds of chewing gums, and sometimes those who are naughty go out there and pick the sticks of gum.”

  “But I thought they had no teeth,” said Dot.

  “Nor have they; but their gums are hardened by long use, so they are able to chew as well as you do. This gum-chewing is a very disagreeable habit, as doubtless you know; so when anyone is discovered indulging in this habit, we make them come out here to the mountains and sit on the rocks for seven days and seven nights. It is a terrible disgrace, of course; but all naughtiness must be punished in some way.”

  Dot watched the gum-chewers thoughtfully for a time, being ashamed to remember that she herself had often been guilty of indulging in this condemned habit; but she said nothing about it, and soon they turned and retraced their steps past the bridge and the village and the home of their kind host, coming at last to the river’s edge where they had landed.

  Here Dot and Tot were surprised to find one end of their boat filled with delicious looking candies, which the colored maids had placed there during their walk, being directed in the work by the little candy woman with the Shaker bonnet.

  Dot thanked the kind lady earnestly, for the food she had brought in the basket was nearly gone. Then the candy lady gave each of the children a sweet kiss, and the candy man shook hands with them, being careful not to let Tot bite off any more of his fingers.

  Our little adventurers now seated themselves in the boat, and the chocolate maids pushed it off the bank for them. Soon they were drifting down the river again, and before long reached the archway that led to the Third Valley of Merryland.

  IX. — The Third Valley

  Soft strains of sweet and soothing music fell upon the ears of the children as the boat glided silently through the ar
ch that led into the Third Valley. Then the jagged rocks surrounding them melted away in the rear, and they passed into a country that lay peaceful and smiling under the pleasant rays of the sun.

  At first, Dot thought the entire Valley was carpeted with soft, white plush, but afterward she found it was a silken moss which grew thickly everywhere. There were a few trees, with wide-spreading branches, and upon these grew beautiful flowers that filled the air with delicate perfume, but in most places the Valley, which was shaped like a great cup with gently sloping sides, was open to the warm rays of summer sunshine which flooded it.

  The entire scene was pretty to look upon; but what made the children’s eyes open wide with wonder was the sight of hundreds of little, naked babies lying about upon the soft moss. They were waving their dimpled arms about, kicking out their chubby feet, or holding their tiny, fat thumbs in their mouths, while they cooed and crowed in a very happy and contented way. The breeze that blew gently through the trees made the music Dot and Tot heard; but the strains were soft and low, and seemed like a lullaby to hush the babies to sleep.

  Some of these little ones were sleeping as the boat drew near, and they looked cozy and comfortable as they lay curled up on the moss; but others were wide awake and full of playfulness, while none of them cried or fretted or seemed a bit cross.

  The babies were not the only inhabitants of this strange Valley, however. Walking among them were several long-legged, solemn-looking Storks, pure white in color, with splashes of black upon their wings. They appeared to act as nurses or guardians of the babies, and every now and then would fill a bottle with sweet milk from the fountain, and placed it beside a baby that acted as if it might be hungry. This fountain stood in about the center of the Valley and sent many sprays of new milk into the air, from whence it fell in graceful curves into a big basin of pure white marble. The nursing bottles were kept on a wide shelf at the edge of the fountain, where they were handy for the Storks to use.

  While Dot and Tot were looking at the strange sights of this Valley, which was so different from the others they had seen, their boat drifted close to the shore, and one or two of the Storks came down to the river bank and looked at them curiously with their bright eyes.

  Then one of the big, long-legged birds spoke to them in a voice that was soft and pleasing. “Why did you come to our Valley?” it asked. “You are too old to become babies again.”

  “Oh, we’re not babies,” said Dot, earnestly. “We’re quite grown up. And we came here because we could not help it. In a few minutes we will go away again into the next Valley.”

  “Oh,” said the Stork, “very well.”

  “Isn’t that milk I see in the fountain?” asked the child, after a little pause.

  “Certainly it is,” answered the Stork; “we feed the babies with it.”

  “Could — could I have a drink of it?” asked Dot, who was thirsty from eating so much candy.

  “Why, bless the child! Of course you can. We have plenty and to spare. Come on shore at once, but be careful not to step on the babies.”

  “I want a drink, too!” cried Tot, who had been so much astonished to hear a bird speak that he had remained silent until now.

  “You may both drink as much as you wish,” replied the Stork, in a kindly voice.

  So the children stepped out upon the bank and fastened their boat, that it might not float away without them. Then, taking each other’s hands, they followed the Stork over the silken moss to the fountain. There were no cups, so Dot and Tot drank from bottles; but they thought it the most delicious milk they had ever tasted.

  While Dot was drinking she happened to look up into the sky, and something she saw there made her utter a cry of surprise. A fleecy, flower-like bud was floating, lightly as thistle-down, high in the air, and seemed to be slowly dropping into the Valley.

  “What is that?” asked the girl, wonderingly.

  “That?” answered the Stork, turning its head sideways so that its round, black eye could look at the sky; “why, that’s a baby-blossom to be sure.”

  “And what is a baby-blossom?” inquired Dot.

  “Wait a moment and you will see,” replied the Stork.

  Slowly and gently the white object floated downward, and even as Dot and Tot watched it, the fleecy blossom sank upon the moss a few feet from where they stood. Then one white leaf unfolded, and another, and still another, until they saw lying in the center of the flower a beautiful baby, fast asleep. While the children looked upon this sight, hushed and silent at the wonder of it, the leaves of the blossom faded away and disappeared, while the new baby rolled over and opened wide its big, blue eyes.

  “It will be hungry after the long journey,” said the old Stork, and, filling a bottle at the fountain, the bird carried it in its long bill to the baby and began to feed it, crooning at the same time the following verse:

  Hushaby, lullaby,

  Sweet flower from the sky;

  Glad be thy dreams, for thy

  Life lies before thee.

  Soon shalt thou be at rest,

  Soon fondled and caressed,

  Pressed to the mother’s breast

  Who will adore thee.

  The baby looked up at the Stork, smiled sweetly and then closed its eyes in sleep; while Tot, who had watched this scene with much interest, asked in a low voice, “Do all the babies come from the sky?”

  The old Stork did not seem to hear him; but another bird, which was busily filling nursing bottles at the fountain, replied:

  “Certainly, they do.”

  “I should think it would get crowded,” said practical Dot, “for here comes another blossom.”

  “Two of ‘em!” added Tot, looking upwards.

  Indeed, two more of the baby-blossoms were seen floating down from the clear, blue sky, and the children watched them until they settled upon the white moss and opened their leaves, setting free two more rosy, new-born babies.

  The Stork at the fountain was now singing an odd little song in a soft, cooing voice, and as Dot listened she caught the following words:

  Coo-oo-oo, Coo-oo-oo!

  Babies are born ev’ry minute, ‘tis true

  Babies are best when they’re chubby and new;

  ‘Most anybody will want one or two;

  Some people willingly take quite a few.

  Here comes another! For babies are due

  To fall when they’re fresh and tender and new.

  Coo-oo-oo, Coo-oo-oo!

  Babies are blossoms that fall like the dew.

  Just then the older Stork, which seemed to be the chief of the nurses, came toward the fountain and said to another of the birds, “It is time to take one of the babies into the world. They are coming quite fast to-day, and we must make room for the new ones.”

  “Very well,” answered the other. They walked among the babies until they came to one quite big and strong, who was lying fast asleep. This baby the Stork picked up very tenderly and placed upon the other bird’s back, twining its little arms around the long, soft neck, to which it clung tightly.

  Then, spreading its great wings, the Stork flew into the air, bearing the baby gently, and sailed over the edge of the Valley into the world beyond, where it disappeared from view.

  “That is the way we keep our Valley from getting crowded,” said the old Stork.

  “Do you suppose,” asked Dot, “that I lived here once, when I was a baby?”

  “Probably,” answered the bird. “But, of course, I cannot remember all the babies, especially after they grow big.”

  “Oh, of course not,” exclaimed the girl.

  “Course not,” said Tot; “too many of ‘em.”

  “Now, if you will excuse me, I’ll feed the two babies who have just arrived,” said the motherly old Stork; and so the children watched it and the other Storks for some time, and admired the gentle way in which they tended the babies, and heard again and again the crooning song:

  Hushaby, lullaby,

 
Sweet flower from the sky,

  which always seemed to have the effect of sending the babies to sleep.

  Having taken one more drink at the fountain and said goodbye to the kind Storks, Dot and Tot returned to their boat.

  As they pushed it out into the stream, Dot asked a Stork that stood watching them:

  “What is in the next Valley?”

  “Oh, the Queen of all Merryland lives there,” answered the bird, “for that is the Fourth Valley, and lies in the center of the Seven.”

  Then, with a feeling of awe at their approach to the Queen who ruled this wonderful land, the children turned their eyes anxiously toward the fourth archway. But as the boat drifted through its entrance, Tot looked back into the Valley they were leaving and noticed another baby-blossom floating down from the sky, while the voice of a Stork sang softly:

  “Coo-oo-oo, Coo-oo-oo!

  Babies are born every minute, ‘tis true.”

  X. — The Queen of Merryland

  When the boat carried Dot and Tot beyond the rocky arch that led to the Fourth and most important Valley of Merry-land, the children held their breaths in suspense; for here lived the Queen of all this wonderful country, and they had no idea what she was like.

  “Perhaps she will be angry with us for disobeying the Watch-Dog’s orders,” Dot whispered; “and then she may punish us in some terrible manner.”

  “No, she won’t,” replied Tot, confidently.

  “Perhaps she will make us slaves and compel us to work for her,” continued Dot, with a little shudder.

  “No, she won’t,” protested Tot, stoutly.

  “Why won’t she, Tot?” asked the girl.

  “‘Cause it’s Merryland,” returned the boy.

  “Ah! That’s true,” said Dot, thoughtfully; “the Queen of this lovely and happy country couldn’t be very cross with us.”

  “Course not,” agreed Tot.

  “Then we won’t be afraid,” she added, her courage restored by Tot’s simple faith; “but will wait and see what happens to us.”

  The boat now swept around a bend in the river, and they saw they were in a Valley somewhat larger than any they had yet visited; but their view was shut off by a high wall that ran along the river bank on one side, and by the rocky edge of the Valley on the other side.