If Seymour agrees to play the Prince when the Maple Street Club puts on Sleeping Beauty, he'll have to kiss Sleeping Beauty; so he says ""Phooey!"" And, after reading the story for himself, ""Double phooey!"" And, even after hearing that ""someone who wants to be in the Maple Street Club"" will be the Prince, ""Double, triple phooey!"" So it goes, with phooey upon phooey, until the day of the play--when Seymour is inveigled into standing-in for the Prince. . . and then, when the audience is assembled, cajoled into playing the part (just as we always knew he would). His entrance rates claps, his kiss wins cheers; and he chortles that ""NOBODY Laughed!"" (just as we always knew they wouldn't). A tiny notion to hang a story on, and the telling doesn't have much easy-reader finesse (apropos of the play: ""It would be Sleeping Beauty. It would be in Cindy's garage""). Only Lillian Hoban's customarily chipper illustrations, in fact, give the book a claim to a second glance.