OBSTINATE TOWN

OBSTINATE TOWN

Of course you know what a postage stamp is: a little, square, gummed stamp with a picture of George Washington on it. But a magic postage stamp is a very different stamp indeed. The George Washington kind you can buy in the drug stores, but the other sort you cannot buy. They are given to you free of charge, if you don't look out.

In the autumn, when the leaves are falling, the Poppykoks come to town. There may be a hundred leaves falling and not one leaf have a Poppykok on it, and then all of a sudden, another leaf falls on your shoulder and a Poppykok is sitting on it, and then—bing—the moment he lands on your shoulder he jumps off the leaf and pastes a magic postage stamp on your cheek, and then—off you start for Obstinate Town by special delivery, that is, you do if you happen to be a boy that always wants his own way. But if you are not that kind of a boy, you need not worry.

However, the boy this story is about was one of the kind who wanted his own way. No matter what he was told to do he wanted to do something else. Otherwise, he was a very nice little chap, and his name was Prince Zep, the only son of a wealthy and powerful king. Of course being a prince he was allowed to have his own way much more than was good for him, and was so used to it, he never thought anything about how unpleasant it might make things for other people.

And so, it is not surprising that one afternoon late in the Fall he was caught, and sent off to Obstinate Town by special delivery.

Now Zep never guessed, any more than you have, that there was such a place as Obstinate Town, or such things as Poppykoks or magic postage stamps. And so, as he strolled through the Royal Park that afternoon scudding his feet through the dried leaves that covered the way, he had not the slightest idea that anything was going to happen to him, until quite unexpectedly, a big, red maple leaf fell on his shoulder, and from it stepped a Poppykok in his bright scarlet coat and breeches, and with his magic postage stamp neatly curled up in a roll in his hand. And before Zep could even gasp, the Poppykok had pasted the stamp on his cheek, leaped from his shoulder to the ground, and stood before him, smiling cheerfully.

The Poppykok pasted a magic postage stamp on his cheek

"There you are," said the Poppykok, "a good job, well done. Bon voyage!"

"Bon what?" began Zep, "I—I—"

"That's all right," responded the Poppykok, "you don't know where you're going, but you're going. Good-by! I'll see you later!"

And then Zep felt himself leap into the air and start off with a whiz. And the more he whizzed, the more he whizzed, until it seemed as though he would never stop whizzing.

"My gracious," he thought, as well as he could as he hurried along, "what on earth has happened to me, and where, oh where, am I going? This is really dreadful!"

And indeed it was for a little while. But presently he began to get used to the whizzing, and finally found himself descending in a graceful curve before a large and ornate building that looked very much like a palace. And sure enough that is exactly what it was, and sitting on the steps of the palace waiting for him was the very same Poppykok that had started him off on his journey.

"Welcome!" said the Poppykok, rising and coming forward as the Prince reached the ground with a bump, "you're right on time. I hope you had a pleasant trip?"

"No," said Zep, crossly, "I certainly did not. I had a horrid trip. How dare you treat me this way?"

"Pooh! Pooh!" responded the other, snapping his fingers, "everybody says that when they first arrive. You'll be crazy about the place in a little while. And now let's go inside and report to the Emperor."

Pushing open the front door of the palace the Poppykok led the way into the grand entrance hall, and as he did so a short, fat man with a crown on his bald head, and bristling whiskers all about his face, came tumbling down the stairway head over heels, and landed in a heap at their feet.

"Ouch!" he exclaimed, sitting up and rubbing his nose. After which he rubbed his shins and said "ouch" once more; and "oh my" and "good gracious." And after that he bawled up the stairs as loud as he could: "Don't try to tell me to be careful and not fall downstairs, for I'll do as I want."

Then he swung himself about. "The idea," he said, glaring at the Prince and the Poppykok, "of any one trying to keep me from falling downstairs. Huh! Can't I fall down my own stairs? Can't I? Tell me!"

"Certainly you can, your majesty," responded the Poppykok. "You can fall up 'em, too, if you want."

"I should think so," retorted the Emperor, "and yet the Queen tells me to look out and not fall down 'em, because it worries her. Well, let her worry. I want her to worry."

But if the Queen was worried she did not act that way, for as she came tripping down she was laughing so heartily that she nearly fell herself, and finally had to sit on the bottom step to get her breath.

"What—what—" spluttered the Emperor, "what do you mean by not worrying? You ought to be ashamed of yourself. Look at my nose, to say nothing of the bump on my shins. My, oh, my, isn't anybody worried about me?"

"I am, your majesty," put in Zep, "and I think the Queen ought to be, too."

"She ought not," snapped the monarch, scrambling to his feet. "If I wanted her to be glad she would be worried, but as I want her to be worried, she is not. You must be a stranger here."

"He is," said the Poppykok. "He just arrived. I only caught him a little while ago."

Then he told the Emperor who Zep was. "This boy," he said, "is a Prince, and has his own way more than anybody else in his father's kingdom. In fact, he is one of the most delightfully stubborn young persons I have ever met, and never will do what any one wants him to if he can possibly help it."

"My," said the Emperor, grasping Zep's hand and shaking it warmly, "if that isn't the finest record I ever heard of. I couldn't be more pig-headed myself. How did you get so? Did you learn it at school or just teach yourself?"

"Oh," said Zep, feeling rather proud, "I just picked it up, I guess."

"Well," said the monarch, "there is nothing like it to my mind. Perhaps you've read my famous poem on the subject? Have you?"

"No," said Zep, "I never heard of it."

"Humph!" said the Emperor, looking rather disappointed. "You're not very literary, are you? However, there is no reason why you should not hear it now. Listen."

When I was a lad, I said to myself

As I hooked the jam from the pantry shelf,

"I may grow up and I may grow old

But I hope I'll never do as I'm told.

"For all the fun I've ever had,

"Has always come from being bad."

So I started out on my wild career,

And I did so well that I'm Emperor here,

Where you're told to do this, and you simply don't—

And you're asked to do that, and you say you won't.

And my what a lot of fun I've had—

For I never mind, and I'm awful bad.

"You can see," said the Emperor, when he had finished, "what a splendid place you have come to. And as the years pass, I hope you may find it even more delightful."

"As the years pass," repeated Zep. "Why—why, I can't stay here for years. What would my folks say?"

"If you ask me," put in the Poppykok, "I should say they'd say: 'thank goodness, he's gone at last.'"

"Yes," said the Emperor, "it's only in Obstinate Town that people like boys like you. Everywhere else they think you're a nuisance. Didn't you know that?"

"Why—why, no," said Zep. "I—I thought everybody liked me."

"Ho, ho, ho!" roared the Poppykok, shaking with merriment.

"Hee, hee, hee!" cackled the Emperor, "my word, that's good! You ought to send that to a comic paper. He thought everybody liked him."

"Well," said Zep, sulkily, "they always acted as though they did. I—I like people to like me. But as long as they don't I'll never go back."

"That's the stuff," said the Emperor. "Don't you do it. You stay here with me and enjoy yourself. Do as you please. Be as cranky as you like. Why, I wouldn't be surprised if you'd be a popular idol some day if you go on the way you've begun."

So Zep settled down in Obstinate Town determined to enjoy himself with all his might. And because he was a prince, the Emperor let him live in the palace and eat his meals at the royal table.

However, he did not care much for the meals. You never could get what you wanted. When you asked the royal butler for cold chicken, he would always tell you he would rather you took cold ham. And if you wanted stewed kidneys, the butler right away said he preferred to give you broiled oysters. No matter what you asked for, the stubborn old butler always insisted on giving you something else, whether you liked it or not. And such an arrangement made Zep awfully cross.

"I don't see why you have such a butler," he said to the Emperor. "When I ask our butler at home for anything, he gives it to me quick. He wouldn't dare give me anything else. If he did my father would hang him."

"Humph!" responded the Emperor, "it seems to me your father must be a very cruel person. The idea of hanging any one for wanting his own way."

"But," said Zep, "it's so—so inconvenient. If they have their own way how can you have yours?"

"Well," said the Emperor, "you can't, with a butler, unless you go to the pantry and help yourself. And yet, why shouldn't he have his way as well as you? Why shouldn't he?"

And the Prince did not know what to say to that. But nevertheless it was tough to have every one else having their own way as well as you. When you got in a trolley car and told the conductor to let you off at a certain street, he would stop the car at another street, and unless you were stronger than he, would put you off there no matter how much you struggled and yelled. And one day, when the Emperor and Zep were put off six blocks from their destination, the monarch was dreadfully angry.

"I know I told you I thought other people ought to have their own way the same as you and I," he said to Zep, "but when a conductor not only puts me off his car before I want to get off, but kicks me into the bargain, it's too much."

"That's what I think," said Zep, "and if I were you I'd issue a royal decree saying that only the upper classes can have their own way always, and that the lower classes can only have their own way, when it suits the upper classes."

"A good idea," said the Emperor, "I'll do it."

And despite the fact that it made the lower classes fairly purple with indignation, the decree was issued at once, and Zep, and the Emperor, and the rest of the upper classes, did as they liked whenever they wanted to, and had a fine time doing it.

"I tell you what," said the Emperor to the Prince one morning after breakfast as he finished reading the paper, "that was a grand idea of yours, Zep, about letting the lower classes have their own way only when it suited us. Life has been much sweeter ever since."

"I think so, too," said Zep, "except that if nobody else could have their own way, it would be sweeter still."

"Hum," said the monarch, "I never thought of that. And the more I think of it, the more I think you're right. I know what I'll do. I'll issue another decree putting all the upper classes into the lower classes, except myself. Then I can do whatever I want, no matter what anybody says."

"But," said Zep, "you wouldn't put me in the lower classes, would you?"

"Why not," replied the Emperor. "Suppose I wanted my own way about something at the same time that you wanted your own way about it, the only way it could be managed without a fight, would be for you to be in the lower classes where you couldn't have your own way unless it suited me. See?"

"Yes," said Zep, sulkily, "I see, but I don't think it's fair. Why not put yourself in the lower classes and let me stay in the upper class?"

"Impossible," said the Emperor, "for if any one ever belonged to the upper classes an Emperor does."

"So does a prince," said Zep.

"Not necessarily," replied the monarch. "I had a dog named Prince once, but you never heard of a dog named Emperor, did you?"

And as Zep could think of nothing to say to that, the Emperor issued his decree, and Zep and all the rest of the upper classes were put in the lower classes, and the monarch enjoyed himself more than ever.

But if the Emperor enjoyed himself, Zep and the rest of the upper classes did not. For if they wanted to do something the Emperor always wanted them to do something different. And if he did not want that, he wanted them to do something nobody could do. And as Zep lived in the palace he had it worse than anybody else.

He was told to hold his breath for an hour; to stand on his ear for half an hour, and not wink for fifteen minutes. And when he did not do what he was told because he could not, the Emperor stuck pins in him and dared him to yell.

"See here," said Zep to the monarch, "I used to like you but I don't a bit any more. I'm going back home right off."

"Very well," said the Emperor, "go ahead. I'm tired of you anyway. The idea of a strong, healthy boy not being able to stand on his ear, and making such a fuss, too, because a few pins are stuck in him. Go on, go back home."

"But," said Zep, "how will I get there? I—I don't know the way."

"Of course you don't," replied the monarch, "nobody does. There isn't any way."

"Isn't any way?" repeated the Prince in a tone of horror. "Why—why, have I got to stay here with you always?"

The Emperor nodded. "Sure thing, unless a Kokkipop sends you back. The Poppykoks bring you here and the Kokkipops send you back. But as no one ever wants to go back it's mighty hard to find a Kokkipop, so I guess I'll be sticking pins in you for some time yet. Ho, ho, ho!"

Well, you can be sure when the Emperor said that and laughed about it, too, Zep felt about as gloomy as he ever had in his life.

"Oh, dear," he said, "what on earth shall I do? If only I can get away from this nasty old place I'll never want my own way again. I'll be a different boy. I never—"

"Here, here," put in the Emperor, sternly, "stop that talk. You mustn't say such things as that. No one ever talks about not wanting their own way in Obstinate Town. It's downright treason. Do you want to go to prison? But anyhow, I don't suppose you meant it."

"Indeed, I did," said Zep, "I meant every word I said. I'm tired of having my own way—it's silly. Look at the mess it's got me into. I'm going to be different—"

"Stop!" shrieked the Emperor, at the top of his lungs, "stop, I say! You'll have a Kokkipop here in another moment, and oh, how I hate 'em. I hate 'em worse than—than spiders. And—and, my goodness gracious sakes alive, you've brought one—you've brought one. Run, run, or the Kokkipop will get you!"

And with that the Emperor dived under his throne, while the Prince, looking about with a startled air, did not know whether to flee or not. And then, as he hesitated, a very brisk old gentleman, dressed in bright yellow, came into the room.

"Did you call?" he asked Zep.

"Call," said the boy, "why—why, no. What do you mean?"

"Did you call for a Kokkipop?" repeated the other testily. "And for mercy's sake don't say you didn't, for I've been waiting for a call all my life. I was a young man when I joined the Kokkipops, and in all that time I have never been called until now. So I hope you did call. Did you?"

"Well," said Zep, "I said I wanted to go home, if that's what you mean."

"And you said you didn't want your own way any more, didn't you?" inquired the Kokkipop, eagerly.

"Yes," replied the Prince, "I did. And I don't."

"He does, too," put in the Emperor, sticking his head out from under his throne. "He doesn't mean what he says. He's just mad at me for sticking pins in him."

"I don't believe it," said the Kokkipop, scowling at the Emperor, "you're just trying to keep me out of a job." Then he turned to the Prince. "You did mean what you said, didn't you?"

"I certainly did," said Zep, "and—"

"Whoopee!" yelled the Kokkipop, joyfully, "then I have got a job at last."

Whereupon he took off his coat, rolled up his sleeves, and began to paste magic postage stamps all over the Prince. "There," he said, standing off to admire his work, "I guess that will take you back all right."

"Take him back," sneered the Emperor, crawling from under his throne, "why it'll take him twice over. You've put excess postage on him. Shows what a Kokkipop knows about his business."

"Is that so," retorted the Kokkipop, "well, I know enough to send this boy where you won't stick pins in him any more, and where he won't want his own way any more." He turned to Zep. "Isn't that so?"

"Yes, indeed," said the Prince.

"Then," responded the Kokkipop, "here's to a quick and comfortable trip. Good-by, I'll see you later."

"No—wait!" shouted the Emperor, running toward Zep, "don't go. I'll put you in the upper classes again. I'll—"

But it was no use. Once again Zep felt himself leap into the air, and whiz, and whiz, and whiz, even faster than he had before. And then just as he was beginning to get used to the whizzing and rather enjoy it, he commenced to descend in a graceful curve, and presently landed with a bump in the gardens adjoining his father's palace. And there, sitting on the grass, was the Kokkipop waiting for him.

"Greeting," said the Kokkipop, "did you have a nice trip?"

"Fine," said Zep, "but of course I'm glad it's over and that I'm safe home again. And of course I'm awfully obliged to you for getting me out of such a scrape."

"Oh, that's all right," said the Kokkipop, as he peeled off the magic postage stamps, "it's been a pleasure to help you. And who knows but you may try to have your own way again and be taken back to Obstinate Town. And if you do, don't forget I'm always glad to get a job."

"All right," said Zep, "I won't, but I never expect to visit Obstinate Town again if I can help it."

And sure enough Zep never did. From that moment he was a changed boy, so much so that it really worried his father, the king.

"I don't understand it," said the King to his Prime Minister. "He does just what I tell him and never whines; and when he takes a walk he jumps about a foot if a leaf falls on him. I don't understand it."

But if the King did not, Zep did, and was determined no Poppykok should get another chance at him.