“That is a funny name for a witch,” said Buster John, as Rabbit paused and began to nod.  
“Which name was that?” inquired Mr. Thimblefinger.
 
“Why, Mammy-Bammy Big Money,” replied Buster John, elevating his voice a little.
 
“Well, it’s very simple,” remarked Mr. Thimblefinger. “‘Mammy-Bammy’ was to catch the ear of the animals, and ‘Big Money’ was to attract the attention of the people.”
 
“Dat’s so,” said Drusilla. “Kaze time you say ‘money’ folks’ll stop der work an’ lissen at you; an’ ef you say ‘Big Money’ dey’ll ax you ter say it agin’.”
 
“It’s very curious about money,” continued Mr. Thimblefinger. “I don’t know whether you ever thought about it much—and I hope you haven’t—but it has pestered¹ me a good deal, this thing you call money.”
 
“It’s mighty² bothersome,” assented³ Mrs. Meadows, “when you are where people use it, and when you have none except what you can beg or borrow. Thank goodness! I’m free from all bother now.”
 
“Yes,” said Mr. Thimblefinger, “I don’t see that people have much the advantage of the animals when it comes to using money. I’ve seen grown people work night and day for a few pieces of metal.”
 
“Why, of course!” cried Buster John. “They can take the pieces of metal and buy bread and meat to eat and clothes to wear.”
 
“So much the more wonderful!” remarked Mr. Thimblefinger. “What do the people who have more bread and meat and clothes than they can use want with the pieces of metal?”
 
“So they may buy something else that they haven’t got,” said Buster John.
 
But Mr. Thimblefinger shook his head. He was not satisfied.
 
“It puts me in mind of a tale I heard once about a poor man who was the richest person in the world.”
 
“But that couldn’t be, you know,” protested Buster John.
 
“Anyhow, that’s the way it seemed to me in the story,” replied Mr. Thimblefinger. “But the story is so old-fashioned it would hardly pass muster⁴ now. Besides, they tell me that, as there’s not enough metal to go round, people have begun to make up their minds that pieces of paper with pictures on them are just as good as the metal, and perhaps better. It’s mighty funny to me.”
 
“What was the story?” asked Sweetest Susan. “Please tell us about it.”
 
“Why, yes,” remarked Mr. Rabbit, “tell us about it. If calamus root passes current with some of my acquaintances and catnip with others, I see no reason why people shouldn’t play make-believe among themselves, and say that pieces of metal and pieces of paper are worth something. In this business people have a great advantage over us. They can put figures on their pieces of metal and paper and make them worth anything, but with us a joint⁵ of calamus root is worth just so much. It has been worth that since the year one, and it will be worth that right on to the end of things. Just so with a twist of catnip. But tell us the story—tell us the story. I may drop off to sleep, but if I do, that will be no sign that the tale isn’t interesting.”
 
“Well,” said Mr. Thimblefinger, “once upon a time there was a country in which money became very scarce. The people had a great deal, but they hid it in their stockings and in the chinks of the chimneys and in their teapots. The reason of this was that other countries close at hand made their money out of the same kind of metal, and they’d bring their goods in and sell them and carry the money off home with them.
 
“Of course this helped to make money scarce, and the scarcer it was the more the people clung to it, and this made it still scarcer. Naturally everybody kept an eye out in the hope of finding a supply of this metal.”
 
“What sort of metal was it?” asked Buster John.
 
“Gold,” replied Mr. Thimblefinger.
 
“Oh!” exclaimed Buster John, in a disappointed tone.
 
“Yes,” continued Mr. Thimblefinger, “nothing in the world but gold. Those who had money held on to it as long as they could, because they didn’t know how much scarcer it would be, and those who didn’t have any were willing to sell whatever they had for any price in order to get some.
 
“It was lots worse than playing dolls—lots worse. When children play make-believe with dolls, they soon forget about it; but when grown people begin to play make-believe with money, they never get over it. The wisest men get their heads turned when they begin to think and talk about money. They have forgotten that it was all a make-believe in the beginning.”
 
Here Mr. Rabbit yawned and said: “You’ll have to excuse me if I nod a little here.”
 
“Yes,” remarked Mrs. Meadows, “I feel a little sleepy myself, but I’ll try to keep awake for the sake of appearances.”
 
“Don’t mind me,” said Mr. Thimblefinger, with mock politeness. “Go to sleep if you want to, you two. I won’t have to talk so loud.
 
“Well, in this country I was telling you about, there was a young man who had saved some money by working hard, but he didn’t save it fast enough to suit himself. He thought so much about it that he would stop in the middle of his work, and sit and study about it an hour at a time.
 
“He thought about it so much that he began to dream about it, and one night he dreamed that he got in a boat and went to an island on which there was a mountain of gold that shone and glistened⁷ in the sun. He was very unhappy when he woke in the morning and found it was nothing but a dream.
 
“He didn’t go to work that day, but wandered about doing nothing. That night he had the same dream. He had the same dream the next night; and the morning after, the first person he saw was an old man who had stopped to rest on the doorsteps. This old man would have been like other old men but for one thing. His beard was so long that he had to part it in the middle of his chin, pass it under each arm, cross the wisps on his back, and bring them around in front again, where the two ends were tied together with a bow of red ribbon.
 
“‘How are you, my young friend, and how goes it?’ said the old man, smiling pleasantly. ‘You look as if you had been having wonderful dreams.’
 
“‘So I have, gran’sir,’ replied the young man.
 
“‘Well, a dream isn’t worth a snap of your finger unless it comes true, and a dream never comes true until you have dreamed it three times.’
 
“‘I have dreamed mine three times, gran’sir, and yet it is impossible that it should come true.’
 
“‘Nonsense! Nothing is impossible. Tell me your dream.’
 
“So the young man told the old man his dream.
 
“‘The Island of the Mountain of Gold!’ exclaimed the old man. ‘Why, that is right in my line of travel. I can land you there without any trouble. It is a little out of my way, but not much.’
 
“‘How shall we get there?’ the young man asked.
 
“‘On the other side of the town, I have a boat,’ replied the old man. ‘You are welcome to go with me. It is so seldom that dreams come true that I shall be glad to help this one along as well as I can. Besides, I have long wanted an excuse to visit the Island of the Mountain of Gold. I have passed within sight of it hundreds of times, but have always been too busy to land there.’
 
“The young man looked at the old man with astonishment⁸. If he had spoken his thoughts he would have declared the old man to be crazy, but he said nothing. He simply followed after him. The old man led the way across the town to a wharf⁹, where his boat was tied. It was a light little skiff that could be sailed by one man. In this the two embarked^{10<............}