One morning the Emperor Fuss of Fizz sat on the front porch of his palace rocking impatiently back and forth. Evidently he was waiting for somebody. By and by when he had rocked so many times his rocking chair was beginning to squeak, the royal necromancer, Wist the Wise, an aged gentleman wearing a gorgeous gown of office, came hurrying up the royal avenue.
"Ha!" exclaimed the Emperor, "so you've come at last, have you? It's lucky for you that I'm a good natured monarch."
"I'm awfully sorry to have kept you waiting, your majesty," replied the necromancer, bowing low, "but the commander-in-chief of your army had a toothache, and I had to wish the tooth out for him and believe me, it was some job."
"Well," said the Emperor, "you have a harder job than that before you. My son, Prince Frip, has been reading about desert islands and insists on having one at once to discover. So get to work, for as you know whatever Frip wants he wants with all his might."
Alas, Wist the Wise knew it only too well. A good part of his time he was kept busy exercising his magic arts to provide amusement for Prince Frip, who was a very lively young person, and who got tired of a thing almost as soon as he got it. As a consequence the wizard had often wished he might get rid of the boy forever, for he was afraid that some day Frip would ask for something he would be unable to give him, for even a magician has his limits. So this time the royal necromancer was determined to fix the Prince so he would not bother him any more.
"Did you say an island, your majesty?" he inquired of the Emperor.
"I did," replied the monarch, "and a desert island, too, with plenty of strange and wonderful things on it to interest a boy. I want to keep Frip busy this time."
"So do I," said the wizard, grimly. "But as you know, your majesty, the kingdom of Fizz is far inland, and desert islands are only found in the sea. If you want desert islands, you must go where desert islands bloom."
"Oh, I must, must I?" retorted the Emperor, angrily. "Whom do you think you're talking to? You have that desert island ready for Frip to play with to-morrow morning, or I'll have you made into an Irish stew."
The royal necromancer shuddered. "Well," he said, "I'll do my best, but whether you stew me or not, I simply cannot provide an out and out, really true island. At the best it will only be an imaginary one. Will that do?"
"I don't care what it is," said the monarch, "so long as the Prince can lose himself on it for a while and not bother me."
So the next morning when Prince Frip commenced to ask when he was going to get the desert island he had been wishing for, the Emperor was able to tell him he would have it that very day. And when the royal necromancer made his appearance a short time afterward, the prediction came true. Leading the Prince out upon the palace lawn, the wizard placed him with his face towards the east. Then Wist the Wise rolled up the right sleeve of his gown and began whirling his arm around and around as though he was going to throw something. After he had done this about a hundred times he stopped all of a sudden with his finger pointing straight ahead of him, and told the Prince to look and tell him what he saw.
But Prince Frip did not trouble to tell the royal necromancer anything. He just gave one joyful yell and set off toward the pebbly beach that had appeared in front of him. A beach flooded with sunshine and with a shimmering sea beyond—blue in some spots and green in others—and with a most delightfully mysterious looking island showing on the horizon. Drawn up on the beach was a jaunty little sail boat. With a vigorous push the Prince had the boat into deep water. Into the craft he tumbled. Puff, puff, came a stiff and salty breeze. The sail flattened, the boat heeled over, and in a moment was cutting its way through the dancing waves with the Prince sitting at the rudder, smiling as he had not smiled for many a day.
But had he known what the royal necromancer had done, he would have been frowning instead of smiling, for Wist the Wise when he told the Emperor that he could not provide a real island, had not spoken the truth. If he had conjured up a real island only certain things could have happened on it. But on the imaginary island which he had provided, anything could happen. And when anything can happen there are bound to be some very strange adventures. And so the wizard felt pretty sure that Frip would have a tough time before he got back again.
However, the Prince, suspecting nothing, sat in the little sail boat as it went on and on, coming nearer and nearer to the island all the while, until finally he cast anchor in the prettiest little cove you ever saw, and taking off his shoes and stockings, waded ashore.
"My," he exclaimed, as he looked about, "isn't this splendid!"
To the right and left of him the beach stretched away in a glittering curve. It looked as though it might be made of gold dust instead of sand, and the reason it looked that way was because it was made of gold dust. Tons and tons of gold dust were there, enough to buy out the greatest millionaire in the world. But the Prince did not know it, and if he had known it he would not have cared, he was too busy watching a short, squatty looking man with a dark brown complexion, driving a stake into the beach a short distance away, on which was a sign:
REAL ESTATE
LOTS FOR SALE
When the man had made the sign secure he turned about and saw Frip. "Hello," he cried, coming toward him, "when did you arrive?"
"Just now," said Frip. "There's my boat."
"Oh," said the man, "so you came in a boat, eh? Very commonplace—very. I came on a Christmas tree."
Now you may think it was decidedly queer for a person to say such a thing as that, but the Prince did not, because when he was close to the stranger he saw he was nothing more or less than a Gingerbread Man, although unusually large for his species.
"Yes," went on the Gingerbread Man, "I came on a Christmas tree, and I tell you it was rather exciting."
"I should think so," remarked Frip.
"Of course it was a mistake that I got overboard," said the Gingerbread Man. "All they meant to do was to throw the Christmas tree overboard after the celebration on the ocean liner. But I was fastened to the top and they forgot to take me off. Well, I floated for days and days and had about decided to try and lose my reason to keep from going insane, when, without the slightest warning, up out of the sea, right under my nose, popped this island."
"What do you mean 'popped this island'?" asked the Prince. "It didn't really pop out of the ocean, did it?"
"It certainly did," replied the Gingerbread Man. "One moment I was straining my eyes looking for an island, and the next moment there it was."
"Then," cried Frip, excitedly, "it must have been just when the royal necromancer created the island for me to play with."
And with that he told the Gingerbread Man how Wist the Wise had made the island by magic at the command of the Emperor. "And," he went on, "it was mighty lucky for you that I happened to ask my father for a desert island, otherwise you might be floating about the sea yet."
"Yes," said the Gingerbread Man, "it certainly was and I cannot thank you enough, for it not only saved my life, but it has given me a chance to go into business for myself." He pointed to the real estate sign. "It seemed a shame for all this land to go to waste so I've marked it out into building lots, and as the different people are shipwrecked here, as of course they will be, I'll sell them the lots. See?"
"Yes," said Frip, "I see. But suppose they won't buy the lots?"
"Then," said the Gingerbread Man, firmly, "they've got to get off the island. Business is business. I found the place first and it belongs to me."
"Belongs to you," cried the Prince. "Well, I guess not. Why, it was 'made' for me. Didn't I just tell you it was made for me?"
"Oh, yes," said the Gingerbread Man, "you told me, but that doesn't make it so, does it? And I did get here first, you can't deny that. And findings are keepings, you can't deny that, either. And whoever wants to stay here has got to buy a lot." And having made that announcement, he turned on his heel and walked away, frowning like anything.
"I suppose," said the Prince to himself, "he's mad at me now. But I don't care if he is, the island is mine and whoever gets shipwrecked here can stay if they want to, lots or no lots."
Then he turned on his heel and walked away in the opposite direction to that taken by the Gingerbread Man.
Now as you know an island is an island—it may be a round island, or an oblong island, or a square island—but if it is an island and you start at a certain place on the seacoast and walk long enough, you are bound to come back to the very place where you started. And that is exactly what happened to Frip. After he left the Gingerbread Man he went on walking, and walking, and walking, until after a bit he came to a place that looked very familiar and he saw by the real estate sign that it was the same spot he had started from, except that something had happened to it, which was that a bonfire was burning there and that running round and around the fire was the Gingerbread Man. And my, how fine he did smell for the fire had warmed him enough to freshen him up.
"Hello," said Frip, sniffing hungrily, "what's the matter with you? My, you do smell nice!"
"Oh, I do, do I?" said the Gingerbread Man, keeping on running, "then I suppose you'll join the cannibals and help eat me."
"Cannibals!" exclaimed the Prince, "what cannibals? I don't see any cannibals."
"Perhaps not," replied the Gingerbread Man, "but you can easily see their footprints on the beach, can't you?"
And sure enough there were the prints of bare feet all about the bonfire, and now that Frip had noticed them he saw to his surprise that fresh footprints were being made all the time.
"Why—why—" he began, very much startled, "why—hey, is anybody here?"
And the minute he said that there was a blood-curdling yell and upon his vision burst a band of coal-black savages with waving plumes on their heads and spears in their hands.
Upon his vision burst a band of coal-black savages
"Oh," he gasped, "goodness gracious!" Then turning about he started to run away as fast as he could, but when you are surrounded by savages it is not so easy to run away, and presently Frip found himself running around and around the bonfire in the opposite direction to that taken by the Gingerbread Man, each one of them pursued by a towering cannibal. And no one knows how long they might have kept it up if at last the Gingerbread Man had not bumped into him, cracking himself badly and almost knocking the Prince down. And at this the cannibals howled with glee.
"Now," said the Cannibal Chief, as he watched Frip trying to get his breath, "perhaps you'll tell me why you ran so. Was it because we shocked you? I was afraid we would."
"Well," said Frip, "you certainly did sort of shock me. And then—"
"I knew it," said the other. "That's the reason we make ourselves invisible when strangers are about. We hate to shock folks. Listen."
We always try with all our might
To keep completely out of sight
When folks like you, got up in style,
Come visiting this desert isle.
For well we know that we at best
Are far from being overdressed.
And so until we get a chance
To find a way to get some pants,
And maybe too, a fancy vest
And derby hats, and all the rest,
All we can do is weave a spell
And make ourselves invis-i-ble.
"That," said the Cannibal Chief, "covers the case completely. In other words, we're the most refined savages you ever met."
"Then," said Frip, "if you're so refined, what do you want to be cannibals for? And why do you wish to eat that poor Gingerbread Man? That's not very refined."
"Not very refined—I admit it," responded the Cannibal Chief, "but very necessary, for meals come before manners. And speaking of meals, I was thinking of asking you to join us at dinner. We'll have the Gingerbread Man for dessert."
"Oh," cried Frip, "I couldn't think of eating the Gingerbread Man, though I must say he smells awfully good when he's warmed up."
"That's all right," said the Cannibal Chief, "you won't have to eat the Gingerbread Man, in fact, you won't be here to do it. We're going to eat you first."
Now if Frip had chanced to sit down on a hornet and the hornet had got mad about it, it would certainly have made him jump, but nothing to what the remarks of the Cannibal Chief did. Indeed they almost froze him stiff and his eyes fairly popped out of his head.
"Eh?" he gasped—"why—what—say—why you—you don't mean to eat—eat me?"
"If you will join us at dinner—yes," said the Cannibal Chief, politely. "But of course if you have another dinner engagement—"
"I have," put in Frip, hastily, "I have a whole lot of 'em. And—and I'm not a bit hungry, so I simply could not join you at dinner."
"Well, supper then, or breakfast," responded the Cannibal Chief. "We'll call it whatever you want. We'll even call it a little side snack, if you wish. You surely can't have engagements for every one of those things."
"Yes, I have," said the Prince, desperately, edging away. "I have engagements for everything, day and night. I haven't a second to spare. And besides, my father, the Emperor of Fizz, is waiting for me to take a walk and if you stop me he'll—he'll put you in prison."
"Pooh," put in the Gingerbread Man, suddenly, "his father isn't here."
"I didn't say he was," replied Frip, "but he's waiting for me at home."
"Oh, at home, eh?" said the Cannibal Chief. "Well, that's quite another matter. Lots of things are waiting at home. No doubt a taxicab is waiting for your father outside his palace. And I dare say there's a woodpile in your backyard waiting for you to do some chopping. And your mother, no doubt, is waiting for you to come back. And the hired girl is probably waiting on the table. But here, nothing waits. So you and your friend, the Gingerbread Man, kindly back up against that real estate sign and let the fire grill you a little. We don't care for cold meals."
Well, you can easily imagine in what frame of mind the Prince was when he heard that. Here was a fine ending to his adventure. When he had asked for a desert island he had expected to have an exciting time of it but not this sort.
"My, oh my!" he groaned. "I wish I had stayed at home and played with my regular play-things and not asked for a desert island. This is what comes of wanting something that isn't meant for boys."
"Yes," said the Gingerbread Man, "and this is what comes of landing on something that isn't meant for gingerbread men. I wish now I had stayed on that Christmas tree."
"Well," said Frip, as the cannibals pushed him back to back with the Gingerbread Man, "I'm sorry we quarreled over those building lots."
"Don't mention it," said the Gingerbread Man, "and I'm sorry you are going to be eaten ahead of me."
Then they shook hands solemnly, and the Gingerbread Man's hand was so soft and sticky that one of the fingers came off in Frip's clasp. And just for a moment Frip thought of eating it, for he had had no breakfast that morning, and then shocked that he should think of such a thing, he tossed it away.
The next instant one of the cannibals picked it up. "Yum, yum," he exclaimed as he took a bite. Then he passed the morsel on to another of the band, and before the finger had gone half around, the whole group of cannibals were simply wild over the delicious flavor of the Gingerbread Man.
"Ow! Yow!" they shrieked. "Gibblety! Goody!"
Then with another shriek they all rushed at the poor Gingerbread Man and tearing him away from the horror stricken Prince, commenced to gobble him up as fast as they could. And because there was so little of him and so many of them, each one of the cannibals fell to fighting the other in order to get his share of the tempting meal. And long after the last crumb of the Gingerbread Man had disappeared, they were still fighting furiously, until, as cannibals when they start to fight never know how to stop, they killed each other, and Frip was the only person left alive on the beach of the desert island.
And when that happened you may be sure it did not take him long to wade out to his boat and set sail for home, for he had had quite enough of that place.
"Hello," said the royal necromancer, feeling very much annoyed as the Prince landed on the imaginary shore in front of his father's palace, "how on earth did you get back so soon? You should have stayed longer. You've missed seeing a lot of things."
"I don't care if I did," said Frip, "for what I did see was quite enough." And when he said that it seemed to him he could still hear the whoops of the invisible cannibals as they scrambled for the crumbs of the Gingerbread Man.
"Oh, ho," said Wist the Wise, smiling cheerily, "then you don't care for imaginary islands, eh?"
"No," said Frip, "I don't. That is, I don't except in story books.”
