those from. Didn't you ever see a biscuit-bush?"

"Never," said Jimmieboy; "though I should think they'd be very nice."

"They are," said the Wizard.

"How do you make them grow?" asked Jimmieboy in surprise.

"Simple enough," said Thumbhi. "Take the Buckwheat-cake bush, for
instance. Buckwheat cakes are nothing more than cooked buckwheat, so
instead of planting the seeds raw we plant them cooked, and when they
grow up and sprout, instead of putting forth raw buckwheat out come the
cakes. Try one."

Jimmieboy needed no second bidding, for as the Wizard spoke he had
reached over to the buckwheat-cake bed, and plucked a half-dozen hot,
steaming cakes.

"My!" ejaculated Jimmieboy, as he swallowed the first one, somewhat
greedily, perhaps, for he was very hungry. "My! How sweet they are."

"Aren't they!" said the Wizard. "And why shouldn't they be? We water the
Buckwheat-cake bushes with maple syrup."

The idea was so overpoweringly lovely that Jimmieboy could not find
words to express his delight over it. He simply let his eyes open a
little wider, but the twinkle in them showed the Wizard how he felt.

"Now here," said the Wizard, tapping a little door in a curious-looking
summer-house--"here is where we keep our tools. They are the funniest
tools you ever saw in your life. They do all their own work. I'll
introduce you to some of them. Mr. Rake!"

"Well?" came a voice from within. "Well, what's wanted? If you are the
gravel path you might as well trot away. I can't smooth you off to-day,
and if you are the weed path, I've asked Mr. Hoe to attend to you. I'm
having trouble with my teeth."

"It's I--Thumbhi," said the Wizard.

"Oh," came the answer. "Why didn't you say so."

Here the door was opened, and the Rake hopped out.

"Good-morning," he said. "I didn't know it was you or I wouldn't have
kept you waiting. Who is your young friend?"

"Jimmieboy," returned the Wizard. "This is his first visit, and I didn't
know but what you'd show him how you do your work."

"I'd be very glad to," said the Rake, "but it's impossible this morning.
I spent all day yesterday raking the candy field, and it has made my
teeth ache like seventy-two--which is twelve more than like sixty; but
if he's fond of jokes I can give him a few. Why is a--"

"Well, really," said the Wizard, who knew the Rake's jokes were very
bad, and who was therefore anxious to spare Jimmieboy the trouble of
hearing them, "we don't like to bother