“Traveling Gentleman!” The little captain made a disgusted face. “He’s a nice one!  Said nobody was being shut up nowhere, nor didn’t want to be rescued.”

For a moment the children were puzzled, then Rudolf called out, “Oh, I know—­the False Hare!”

They all laughed and Ann said:  “I suppose Sandy didn’t know any better than to send him, but I should think he’d make a pretty funny messenger!”

“Make a better pie,” said Jinks grimly, and not another word could they get out of him after that.  They were now coming to that part of the wood Ann and Rudolf remembered so well, where the kindly Knight had rescued them from the attack of the tiresome Fidgets.  They looked about for signs of the little creatures’ presence in the branches overhead, and listened for their chattering laughter, but the coming of so large a company must have scared the cowardly Fidgets away, for not a trace of them was to be seen.

At last the procession struck the little path Sandy had pointed out to the children, and in another moment it was being met and greeted by a whole troop of Good Dreams who had rushed to welcome the returning party and escort them back to the glade.  Here they found the whole family assembled:  the Cook-that-liked-living-in-the-Country, the Gardener-with-the-Generous-Disposition, the Pink Stockings, the Nice Nurse, the Good Baby, the Easter Rabbit, the Birthday Cake, the Organ Man, the Tall Candlesticks, and the Jolly Santa Claus—­one and all of the Good Dreams, with Noddy and Blink, the two fat boys, and—­best of all—­old Sandy himself, a twinkle in his sleepy eyes, a grin on his round good-humored face.

“Well, well, well,” cried he.  “Glad to see you back again, my friends!  Guess you’ve had enough of the bad ’uns—­eh, young man?” And he gave Peter a kindly dig in the ribs.  Peter grinned and looked rather foolish but said nothing.  “And now,” went on Sandy, pushing aside the excited dreams that crowded round him, “make way, all of you!  Let these young people see who’s come to welcome them.”  He led the children across the glade to where, throned on a pile of sacks, sat the Corn-cob Queen!  There she was in her greeny-yellowy gown, her little head erect, her sweet face smiling, her tiny hands stretched out to greet the children.  They could have hugged her, but they didn’t dare, she looked, in spite of being just a doll and an old-fashioned one at that, so truly like a Queen.  Back of her majesty stood a group of doll ladies-in-waiting dressed in their gayest clothes, and among them were Ann’s very own children, Marie-Louise and Angelina-Elfrida!  They did not look haughty or naughty or cross any more, but smiled sweetly at their little mother.

“Yes,” said the Queen, “I have come to welcome you back, dears, and to say good-by, for I suppose you would like to go home to your Aunt Jane now, wouldn’t you?”

“Oh, yes, indeed, please your Majesty,” cried Rudolf and Ann in one breath—­but Peter said nothing.  He was gazing rather regretfully at the False Hare who lounged near by, smoking his chocolate cigarette and polishing the nap of his silk hat with the back of his paw.  The False Hare winked at Peter and edged a little closer to him.  “Mighty glad to see the last of you, old chap,” he whispered.  Then Peter smiled all over, he was so pleased.