"Wooden automobiles and carriages! Get your one-of-a-kind wooden vehicles right here!" Ben bellowed in his loudest market-hawking tone, waving and gesturing theatrically at the toys. "Never before seen craftsmanship from Everwoods Village!" (No one on Nebula 9 is familiar with the concept of automobiles. Nonetheless, Ben mentioned it as a way to introduce new terminology for a toy.)

A few curious browsers paused and circled around the mat, intrigued by the shopkeeper's boisterous pitch. The children in particular ogled the smoothly sanded cars, reaching to push them back and forth across the woven threads.

"By Jove, I've never glimpsed such peculiar and wondrous creations!" an elderly gnome declared, adjusting his spectacles. "Did you manifest these from imagination alone, my good man?"

Ben nodded eagerly. "Yes indeed! I carved and shaped each entire toy auto carriage by hand in my workshop. They are individual pieces of art!"

"Well, artwork or not, seems a ridiculous waste of fine wood to me," scoffed a middle-aged woman, tugging her fascinated son away from Ben's display.

Over the next few hours, waves of curious browsers continued stopping to inspect the quirky hand-carved vehicles, remarking on the novel craftsmanship. But despite their initial intrigue, no one proceeded to actual purchase.

As the afternoon wore on with still no sales rung up, Ben's spirits began deflating. He ran a hand through his dark wavy hair anxiously, beads of sweat dotting his furrowed brow.

"Perhaps my optimism in these exotic playthings was misplaced after all," Ben muttered under his breath. "These rural villagers seem wary to spend hard-earned coin on such oddities." (Most of them came from rural villages to buy products and daily necessities.)

Just as Ben began gathering up the toys to head dejectedly back inside, a lone boy around eight years old wandered over from the busy bazaar street. The scrawny, unkempt child plopped himself crisscross applesauce on the mat, eyes fixed longingly on the array of carved cars.

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"Hello there, young man!" Ben called. "Does something catch your fancy?"

The boy glanced up timidly. "Uh, yes mister. These little wooden carriages are real neat. I ain't never seen toys shaped so wonderfully." He looked back down, fidgeting shyly. "Begging your pardon sir, but might I hold one in my hands to see it closer?"

Ben's face lit up. "Absolutely, my good lad! Please, examine away."

The boy carefully picked up a sedan model, turning it every which way in awe. "By golly, this thing puts my rickety hand-me-down tops and horses to shame," he murmured. "What sort of enchanted object might this be?"

"No enchantments or tricks here," Ben replied, scooting closer. "Simply creative hands guided by imagination. I designed these playthings based on horseless auto carriages from abroad."

The child's eyes widened with wonder. "Horseless, you say? Magic or mechanics?"

"A bit of both, depending on perspective." Ben smiled warmly, nostalgia washing over him. "Where I've traveled, these 'cars' rapidly replaced wagons but took extensive technological mastery to fabricate."

"Well I ain't ever glimpsed such wizardry 'round these backwater parts," remarked the boy, still engrossed with rolling Ben's car along pretending it was self-propelled.

An idea struck Ben then. "Say, how would you like to purchase this fine toy auto to add to your collection?"

The boy looked up hesitantly. "Oh, I...I ain't got no money, mister. Just a silly pipe dream I suppose."

Ben gently touched the crestfallen child's shoulder. "For you, my friend, I propose a special bargain. Only five bronze coins and this fantastic toy carriage is yours."

The boy's eyes lit up brighter than lanterns. "Y-you mean it, mister?? I think I can scrounge up five bronze scraps! Be right back!" He raced off into the dispersing market crowd as Ben looked on contentedly.

Soon the lad returned breathless, clutching a handful of dingy coins. "Here you are, sir! Five bronze bits, every last one I could beg and scavenge today." (From his parents.)

"Sold!" Ben proclaimed. Carefully placing the toy in a burlap pouch, he handed it to the beaming youngster. "May this gift feed that artistic spirit my good man. Now hurry on home to your play!"

Clutching his precious pouch tightly to his chest, the boy took off grinning ear to ear. Ben watched him disappear down the winding path back to the village, heart warmed at kindling such humble but sincere joy.

The shadowed bazaar alley where Ben sat suddenly seemed much brighter as he began neatly re-packing the remaining toy cars. Their value far exceeded the paltry coins they would fetch. No, the true compensation came from sparks of inspiration and droplets of life-meaning infused by imagination into other souls along destiny's winding lanes.