The Monkees sauntered nonchalantly from the dungeon. Reaching the main floor of the castle, they spotted a guard patrolling the corridor.

"How will we get past him?" Mike whispered.

Micky got out his tour guide cap, put it on, and motioned for the others to follow.

"And on our left, folks, we have the Great Wall of China. Notice, in particular, the cups and saucers," Micky chanted, leading the tour along the corridor.

The guard, sighting them, eyed the group speculatively.

"And here," Micky said as they reached the guard, "we have probably the most interesting sight on the whole tour. Pay special attention to this guard's disposition. See how amiable he appears to be."

"What's goin' on here?" the guard roared.

"See that!" Micky said. "First he was amiable; now he's angry. That's what we call 'The Changing of the Guard!'"

"No tours allowed!" the guard shouted.

"Fascinating! He speaks in sign language," Mike said.

"Out!" the guard raged.

"Right this way, folks," Micky continued, leading the way toward the exit. "Up ahead, we have the Great Outdoors. You've read about it in books, and now you'll see it in person. As you step out the door, sniff the fresh air. Not canned, not frozen-- but fresh! Guaranteed to take the fall out of your arches, put a spring in your step, and keep your winter green!"

"Is every day's air like that in Bellevue?" Davy asked.

Micky shook his head. "Summer and summer not."

The moment they were outside the castle, Micky took off his tour guide cap. "Which way to the marketplace?" he asked. "I can't find my way around a corner when I'm out of my uniform."

"We'd better ask directions," Davy said.

"There he is over there," Peter said, pointing to a man who was leaning against a hitching post.

The Monkees approached the man. "Mr. Directions?" Mike asked, extending a hand.

"That's right-- Sam Directions, at your service," the man replied, shaking Mike's hand. "Always nice to meet somebody who's lost. How would you like to get to Battery Park from the Bronx by way of Tenafly, New Jersey? That's my special today."

"No thanks," Mike replied. "All we'd--"

"Malibu Beach by way of the San Francisco Bay Bridge?" Directions broke in. "That one's left over from the Republican Convention of '64. You can have it cheap."

"We just want to get to the marketplace," Mike answered.

"Well, you take a handsom cab to the border, cross over into the next country, hitch a ride to the airport, fly to Alleppey, India--"

"Never mind," Mike interrupted. "We'll find it ourselves."

The Monkees moved on to the curb and began looking for a handsom cab.

"There's one!" Peter said.

Micky shook his head. "Comely-- but not handsom." he said. "We'd better wait."

An ugly cab passed. Then a spruce cab. Then a charming cab. Finally, a handsom cab appeared, and the Monkees halted it and clambered aboard.

"To the marketplace!" Mike said to the driver.

The driver cracked his whip and the horse broke into a gallop. Several blocks later they reached a crowded area of shops. The sidewalks were thronged with shoppers, all carrying large baskets of eggs. The driver pulled the horse to a stop and the Monkees jumped out.

"That'll be one egg," the driver said.

"Ah... we seem to be a little short," Mike replied.

"I can believe that about him," the driver said, pointing to Davy. "But what about the rest of you?"

"Would you take me instead?" Micky asked. "I've always been known as a pretty good egg."

The driver studied him a moment and then replied, "Let's call it even. With you up here in the seat with me, I wouldn't have a handsom cab anymore. Try me again, though, if you ever get your hair cut."

The driver snapped his whip again, and once more the horse galloped off.

The Monkees began going from shop to shop trying to find geese, so that by the process of elimination they would find the goose that had swallowed The Button. But it appeared that they were too late. In every shop they were told that the geese had been taken to the castle.

Finally, however, one friendly shopkeeper drew them aside and whispered, "There's only one place in the whole country-- besides the castle-- that might still have a goose. Try the Black Market!"

"Where is it?" Mike whispered back.

"Around in the alley," the shopkeeper replied. "You can't miss it. There's a big sign over the door, saying BLACK MARKET."

The Monkees thanked the shopkeeper. They rushed from the shop and ran to the alley behind the buildings. As soon as they entered the alley the saw the sign. It said:

The Monkees dashed inside, and were met by a large, roly-poly, smiling man who was wearing a straw hat and a butcher's apron.

"We were told we might find some geese here," Mike said hopefully.

Fred Black looked them over. "Plainclothes cops, eh?" he replied. "You won't find any geese here, boys. I know the law-- all the geese go to the castle. Do I look like a man who'd break the law?" He lowered his voice. "Who snitched on me?" he asked. "Somebody that bought a goose from me and found a horn in its craw, I'll bet!"

"We're not police, we're customers," Mike replied. "And what do you mean, a horn in its craw?"

"Where do you think those honks come from?" Black asked. "You think every time a goose makes a noise it's just coincidence that a car's passing by? Well, you're right. That's what the noise is in other countries. But here in Bellevue we don't have any cars. So we have to fit our geese with horns of their own. Customers, eh?" He beamed. "What can I sell you that is against the law to sell you? How about a brand-new telephone? Never been used. Imported from Alleppey, India."

"We're looking for geese," Micky said>

"Funny thing you should mention geese," Black replied. "I just got in a big shipment of geese. The minute I heard there was a law against it, I stocked up."

"If all the geese are going to the castle, where do you get your geese?" Davy asked.

"Where else? From the castle," Black replied. "The people take their geese to the front door, and I get them from the royal geese receiver at the back door. Business is a two-way street, you know. The people take their geese up First Avenue, and I bring them back along Second Avenue. And everybody wins. The people obey the law by turning in their geese. Then they come here and buy them back. That way, they can have their cake and eat it, too."

"Where does the cake come in?" Peter asked, interested.

"I make them buy a cake when they get their geese," Black explained. "That's where the profit is. Oh, this goose business is fascinating, all right. The stories I could tell! You wouldn't believe them. But, I'll give you a chance, anyway. I've got thirty-two dozen geese in the back room, all butchered and ready for the oven. Now, that's pretty unbelievable in itself. But-- would you believe it?-- that's not the fascinating part. What's really interesting is the things I found in those geese when I butchered them. They talk about goats eating strange and uncommon objects. But a goose! Wow! Guess what I found in the first goose I opened up."

"A goat?" Peter guessed.

Black frowned. "Have you heard this story before?"

"Never," Peter replied. "That was just a wild goose."

"Well, to make a short story shorter," Black went on, "some of the things I've found in geese, in the order of their appearance, are a left-handed crank for a right-handed ice cream freezer, a giant tiddlywink, ticket stubs to the opening performance of Abie's Irish Rose, a button, four--"

"A button!" the Monkees cried in unison.

Black looked at them warily. "You think a buttonm is stranger than a left-handed crank?" he said. "You sure you're not plainclothes cops?"

"What did this button look like?" Mike asked.

"Like it was sewed to a hip pocket," Black replied. "I was going to mention the hip pocket later."

"Just to be sure.... Was this button red?" Mike asked. "Pink? Blue?"

"You're close," Black said. "But not close enough."

"Was it black?"

Black shook his head. "Gray with two holes in the middle," he replied. "It's the giant tiddlywink that's black." He opened a drawer and got out a round, black object and placed it on the counter. "Ever see a giant tiddlywink as big as that before?" he asked proudly. "I'll get a basket of eggs for it from some giant tiddlywink collector."

"The Button!" the Monkees cried in unison.

Black looked at The Button closely. "What kind of button is that? No holes." He picked it up and dropped it back into the drawer. "But, no matter. As they say: One man's tiddlywink is another man's button. Now then, about what size goose were you looking for?"

"Actually, we're more interested in The Button," Mike said. "Is it for sale?"

"Maybe," Black replied cagily. "Will you take the hip pocket with it?"

"No, not that button," Mike replied. "The button you call a giant tiddlywink."

"Oh, you mean that giant tiddlywink that you boys call a button." He shook his head. "I couldn't sell that," he replied. "It's been in the family for hours. I wouldn't feel right about taking eggs for it. I'll give it to you, though, for free."

"Amazing!" Micky said. "That's exactly what we can afford!"

Mike put out a hand. "Handle it gently, please, and put it right there," he said.

"In a minute," Black replied. "First, I'll get your cake for you. What good would a button be without a cake to go with it?"

"Am I right in assuming that the cake is the catch?" Mike asked.

Black scowled. "You'll have to be a little more specific," he replied.

"In other words," Mike said, "am I right in assuming that you won't give us The Button unless we buy the cake?"

"You were right the first time. The cake is the catch," Black replied. "Angel food or devil's food?"

"How much?" Micky asked.

"I like you-- only four dozen eggs," Black answered.

"If we stuck around awhile, do you think you could grow to hate us a little?" Micky asked.

"How could I do a thing like that to somebody I like?" Black replied.

Mike motioned the others into a huddle and they conferred. "Where're we going to get four dozen eggs on short notice?" he asked.

"Let's try the bank," Peter said. "If we tell them we can get a giant tiddlywink for it, they'll be glad to give us a loan. A collector will pay a basket of eggs for a giant tiddlywink."

"We'll try it," Mike decided. "We couldn't be any worse off after being kicked out of a bank than we are now." Breaking from the huddle, he returned to where Black was waiting. "Hold onto that tiddlywink," he said. "We'll be back in a flash with the cash."

"Don't be too long," Black warned. "There's a big market for tiddlywinks or buttons or whatever that thing is these days."

The Monkees left the Black Market, emerged from the alley, then entered the nearest bank. The guard at the door directed them to the officer in charge of loans, who was seated at a desk at the rear of the bank.

"We want to talk to you about a loan," Mike said when they reached the man.

"Wonderful!" the man replied, obviously relieved. "On my salary, I can hardly make ends meet. How much can you give me?"

"I think you've got it a little turned around," Mike replied. "We want to borrow from you."

"Oh... that again," the man said dismally. He sighed. "All right. But I'll have to get some information from you." He got a form from a drawer of the desk. "How much do you want to borrow?" he asked.

"Four dozen eggs," Mike answered.

"Ummmm... got your eye on a giant tiddlywink, eh?" the man said knowingly. "Okay. Now, what have you got for collateral?"

"What does he want?" Davy asked.

"Collateral isn't a he, it's an it," the man replied. "It's what you have that's worth more than four dozen eggs that we can take away from you if you fail to repay the four dozen eggs."

"How about a giant tiddlywink?" suggested Peter.

The loan officer shook his head. "That's worth four dozen eggs exactly," he said. "The collateral will have to be worth more."

"Then how about a button that will give us absolute and total control over the whole world?" Micky asked.

The loan officer thought a moment and then nodded. "That ought to be worth five dozen eggs, at least," he said. "Now, then, can you describe this button? New or used?"

"New," Mike answered. "If it were used there wouldn't be any world left to control."

"Very good," the man said. He turned the form toward Mike. "Sign on the dotted line," he said.

"Whose name?" Mike asked.

"Somebody rich," the loan officer replied. "It looks better to the brass that way."

"I'll just sign the bank's name," Mike said. "I'll bet it's loaded."

"Good," the loan officer agreed. "That'll make a big impression in the head office." He opened another desk drawer and got out four one-dozen cartons of eggs and handed them to Micky. "Just don't eat any of them," he warned. "I've had them in that drawer for six months."

With Micky carrying the cartons, the Monkees headed toward the exit. But just as they reached the door, the guard called out to them.

"Halt!" he said. "What've you got in them cartons?"

"Eggs," Micky replied innocently.

"I'll just take a look at that," the guard said suspiciously. He opened one of the cartons and looked in. "Eggs!" he said, surprised. "Sorry, boys. But I've got to keep a sharp eye out. A lot of nice folks like you come in here and steal our pens and try to smuggle 'em out in egg cartons."

"We borrowed these eggs, all upright and above-board," Mike said. "We put up a button as collateral."

"Hey! Pretty good deal!" the guard said, impressed.

"Yeah, it was a steal," Micky replied.

The Monkees moved on.

"A steal!" the guard shouted suddenly. "Stop! Thieves! Bank robbery!"

A whistle blew! A gun fired!

"Do you think we ought to go back and explain?" Davy asked.

"Sure, we can show him how we got the eggs by signing the bank's name to the loan," Peter said.

"Let's run first and explain later," Mike decided.

The Monkees dashed from the bank-- and right into the arms of a dozen policemen.

"Where's the bank robbery?" one of the policemen asked.

Davy pointed back into the bank. "We were in there when we heard about it," he answered.

The police rushed into the bank.

The Monkees started up the street, taking their time, not wanting to draw attention. But a moment later the policmen came running back out of the bank. They were accompanied by the guard.

"That's them! I got their confession!" the guard shouted, pointing out the Monkees.

The Monkees began taking their time at a much faster pace.

"Why are we running?" Micky asked, clinging to the cartons of eggs. "We didn't do anything illegal."

A shot was fired! A bullet zinged past them!

"That explains it," Micky said.

The Monkees raced from the marketplace, then up a narrow street, down a wide avenue, up a narrow alley, and down a wide boulevard. The guard and the police, meanwhile, still firing, raced from the marketplace, then up a wide boulevard, down a narrow alley, up a wide avenue, and down a narrow street. At that point, the Monkees and the guard and the policemen all met.

"How's about across a bridge this time?" Davy suggested.

"Fine by me," the guard replied. "How's about it by you boys?" he asked the policemen.

"This is your chase," the head policeman said to the guard and the Monkees. "Anything you decide is okay by us."

"Over the bridge and through the woods it is, then," Davy said. "And we'll all meet at Grandmother's house. Okay?"

Without waiting for a reply, the Monkees took off again. And the guard and the policemen set out once more to catch them, firing their guns and shouting, "Stop, thieves! Stop, thieves!" all the while.

Reaching the bridge, the Monkees started across. Unfortunately, it was a drawbridge, and, just as they set foot on it, it began rising up in the middle to allow a boat to pass underneath.

"We probably should go back," Mike said.

"And be late getting to Grandmother's house?" Peter said. "The guard and those policemen would never forgive us."

"Onward!" Mike pointed.

The Monkees charged up the bridge, reached the center, and plunged downward over the edge.

Looking down and seeing a barge, Davy said, "I think we're going to be late getting to Grandmother's house anyway. The boat is going in the opposite direction."

"You know something worse?" Micky said.

Mike nodded. "We're going to be killed," he said.

"Even worse than that," Micky said. "We're going to lose our entire fortune. Did you ever hear of an egg falling off the end of a bridge and landing on a barge and surviving?"

"Let me think." Mike frowned. "I may have and I may not have. If you'll just give me a min--"

His thoughts were interrupted. At that instant the Monkees and the cartons of eggs hit the barge. Luckily, however, it was not an ordinary barge. It was owned and operated by a group of Bellevuian college students who, as a prank, had kidnapped all the royal chickens, intending to hold them prisoner over the weekend. Being boys, though, the college students had soon become extremely hungry. And, wild from starvation, they had set upon the royal chickens. Consequently, what the Monkees and the cartons of eggs landed on was the remains: a soft bed of thousands and thousands of chicken feathers.

"Saved by the machinations of a group of well-meaning but misguided college students!" the Monkees cried joyfully in unison as they landed in a cloud of feathers.

"I think we cried joyfully in unison too soon," Mike said, pointing. "Look! The guard and the police have commandeered a rowboat. They're coming after us!"

"But can they catch us?" Davy postulated.

"They're a cinch," Mike replied. "They can row faster than we can barge."

"Then let's commandeer a lifeboat and row back to shore," Davy said. "They can't row faster than we can row, because there are four of us and there are only seven of them."

"That doesn't make sense," Mike pointed out.

"Certainly it does. With so many of them in that little rowboat some of them are bound to get in the way and slow the others up."

"That does make sense," Mike said, surprised.

Quickly, the Monkees jumped into a lifeboat, lowered it to the water, and then rowed toward shore. The guard and the policemen immediately changed course to follow them.

The Monkees' boat reached land first, however. And while the guard and the policemen were still yards from shore, the Monkees jumped from their boat and rushed toward the marketplace.

Mike was the first to reach Black's market. He dashed in and, panting, said to the proprietor, "The eggs are coming!"

"Good, good," Black replied, rubbing his hands together greedily.

Peter was next to arrive. "The eggs are coming, all four dozen of them!" he announced, panting.

At that same moment, Davy burst through the doorway. "The eggs--" he began.

"I know, I know," Black broke in. "Let's have less talk and more do."

Then Micky appeared, carrying the four cartons of eggs in his arms. "Here are--" he said. Then he interrupted himself long enough to trip over the sill of the door and fall flat on top of the cartons. There were four dozen cracking sounds.

From his position atop the cartons, Micky looked up hopefully at Black. "It won't bother you, will it, if it's in small change?" he asked.

"The deal is off," Black replied. "I'd sound like a weirdo walking around with four dozen eggs in change jangling in my pocket."

At that instant, a small, yellow, fuzzy head poked out from beneath Micky. It looked remarkably like the head of a baby chick. Then the chick spoke, removing all doubt.

"Peep!" it said.

Micky jumped up. "I'm a mother!" he cried, panic-striken.

Where Micky had been, forty-seven additional baby chicks now appeared.

"Congratulations, little mother," Mike said to Micky. "Besides eggs, you've broken every record in the books. You've had quintuplets nine and three-fifths times in one day."

"The deal is on again!" Black cried excitedly. He ran to the counter, yanked open the drawer, got The Button, and ran back to Mike, slapping it into the palm of his hand and closing his fingers around it. "A deal is a deal!" he insisted. "You get this valuable giant tiddlywink and I get those four dozen worthless chickens!"

"I don't think I quite understand this," Mike said.

"You're too sharp for me; you outwitted me," Black replied.

"We accept the deal-- on one condition," Mike said. "Tell us the truth. Why are you willing to accept four dozen broken eggs?"

"Those four dozen broken eggs are going to grow up to be four dozen egg-laying chickens," Black explained. "Another few months and I'll have the only black market mint on the block. I'll be--"

There was a sudden loud pounding at the door.

"The guard and the police!" Davy said. "They caught up with us!"

"Quick!" Black said. "Out the front door!"

"You mean the back door, don't you?" Micky asked.

"My shop is in the alley," Black replied. "So that makes my back door my front door, and my front door my back door. That pounding is at my front door, which is my back door, so you want out my back door, which is my front door."

"Is there a side door?" Mike asked. "That would be a little less confusing."

"No good," Black replied. "It leads to the basement." He rushed to the door at the rear of the market. "This way," he urged, opening it wide.

The Monkees raced past him and out into the street-- and straight into the clutches of a squad of the king's soldiers. Behind them, the door of the market slammed shut.