The Wishing Horse of Oz
BY RUTH PLUMLY THOMPSON
Reilly & Lee edition, copyright 1935 but not renewed
Public domain
(44,162 words)

CHAPTER 1
THE KING OF SKAMPAVIA
"Is this all?" The King of Skampavia frowned at the great stack of bags,
 bales, crates and carriers heaped around his throne. Leaning forward, he
 gingerly extracted a fig from one of the baskets and popped it into his
 enormous mouth. "Pah, dry as a blotter," spluttered the red-faced ruler,
 gritting his teeth with disgust, "and look at those cocoanuts, no bigger
 round than a baby's rattle!" Leaping off his throne, he began kicking at
 the baskets of vegetables and bales of cotton and other merchandise. "What
 dusty junk is this?" he raged, glaring furiously at Pinny Penny, his
 patient Prime Minister. "How dare they send me such stuff?" Clasping and
 unclasping his hands nervously, Pinny Penny nevertheless spoke up boldly.
"Because they have nothing better, your Majesty. What can our poor subjects
 do with land so unprofitable and barren? Then, not only must they produce
 enough for their own needs, but are required by the law to give one-third
 of all they raise to the crown."
"And why not?" blustered Skamperoo, settling back argumentatively on his
 throne. "I am the KING! You can't get around that, you know."
"No," sighed Pinny Penny, and drawing aside one of the shabby curtains, he
 looked sorrowfully out into the courtyard.
"What's all that racket?" demanded his Master as a medley of shouts, roars,
 and dull thuds came rolling up to them. Forgetting his anger for a moment,
 he bounded to his feet and came across the room to look over Pinny Penny's
 shoulder.
"A slight argument seems to have arisen among the Supervisors," murmured
 Pinny Penny resignedly.
Now Skampavia, I must tell you, is roughly divided into seven counties, and
 over each county Skamperoo had set a Supervisor whose duty it was to govern
 the province and to turn over to him one-third of all produce and
 merchandise in that county. To save time and easily identify them, the
 supervisors were known by the size of the counties they governed. For
 instance, the Supervisor of the First County, which was one mile wide and
 ten miles long, was called Onebyten; the Supervisor of the Second County
 Twobyfour; and the others were variously known as Threebysix, Ninebyfive,
 Eightby-eight, Fivebynine, and Fourbyseven. Twice a year the Supervisors
 rode into the capital with their tribute, and now, down in the courtyard,
 the seven tremendous Skampavians were in a perfect pitched battle, helped
 out by all the guards and palace servants.
"Argument!" roared the King, slapping Pinny Penny rudely on the shoulder.
 "It's a fight, and you know it! Ho, ho! Just look at the good-for-nothing
 rascals. I tell you, old Two Pins, however poorly they serve us as farmers
 and merchants, our Skampavians can certainly fight. And who says I'm too
 hard on them? Have I not given every man Jack a dress uniform and gun and
 made them learn military drilling and marching at the Royal College?"
"And what use is all this drilling and marching?" inquired Pinny Penny
 wearily. Letting the curtain fall, he hurried away, for well he knew, if he
 did not put a stop to the conflict in the courtyard, every window in the
 palace would be broken.
"Now what did he mean by that?" muttered Skamperoo peevishly as his little
 Prime Minister whisked out of sight. Pursing his lips, he seated himself
 heavily on his throne. After all, Pinny Penny had only spoken the truth.
 Why had his father or his father's father ever picked out this pesky little
 country in the first place? Located in the southern part of the desert of
 Noland, between the Kingdoms of Ix and Merryland, Skampavia, he was forced
 to admit, had neither riches, beauty, nor interest. His castle, though poor
 and shabby, was comfortable enough, and having lived in it all his life, he
 was used to it. He had put up with the hot, dry climate and the poor
 quality of the food, but after all, why should he continue to do so? In
 those long-ago days in the schoolroom he had studied of energetic rulers
 who had taken their armies and gone forth to conquer richer and more
 desirable lands from their neighbors. Well, then, why should not he take
 his men, push over the border into a more fertile and kindly land? The idea
 pleased but at the same time annoyed him. Skamperoo was fat and lazy. He
 loved quiet and ease, and the thought of a hard military campaign made him
 shudder with distaste. Still, he reflected, remembering Pinny Penny's
 reproachful face, a King should do something for his subjects, and the more
 he did for them C4 Ho, ho! C4 the more he could make them do for him. A
 rich and prosperous country meant a rich and prosperous ruler.
 Discontentedly fingering the rough cloth from which his royal robes were
 fashioned, he began to picture himself decked out in splendid satins and
 velvets heavily encrusted with jewels. Jewels. Pah! All the jewels he had
 were his plain gold scepter, badly dented and bent from hurling at Pinny
 Penny. Taking off the crown, he scowled at it critically and began
 considering the realms on either side of his own dominions.
To the north there was nothing but a sandy strip of desert and the tossing
 waters of the Nonestic Ocean. East lay the Kingdom of Ix, and Zixie (sic)
 the little Queen he considered too pleasant and friendly to conquer.
 Besides, the climate of Ix was not much better than that of his own
 country. To the west of Skampavia was Merryland, and at one time a band of
 his roistering Skampavians had crossed over into that country bent on theft
 and mischief. Recalling the way they had been welcomed and entertained by
 the cheerful King of Merryland and sent home simply laden with presents, he
 hastily dismissed that country too. How could he fight a monarch like that?
 To the south lay the burning sands of the Deadly Desert, which no man in
 his own Kingdom had ever succeeded in crossing.
So having exhausted all the possibilities in the immediate neighborhood,
 Skamperoo tapped his foot in vexation and began casting about in his mind
 for some fair and faraway country to conquer. He closed his eyes in order
 to think better and was just on the point of falling into a pleasant doze
 of riches and conquest when Pinny Penny came noisily into the room. He was
 preceded by two of the King's Supervisors, who, urged forward by the
 fearless little Prime Minister, stood sulkily and defiantly before the
 throne.
"Well, what now?" demanded Skamperoo, blinking his eyes sleepily. "Can you
 not handle these arguments yourself, Pinny Penny? Is a King to have no rest
 or privacy at all?"
Instead of answering, Pinny Penny took a small cotton bag from the tallest
 of the Supervisors and handed it silently to the King. Still half asleep,
 Skamperoo untied the drawstring of the small bag and emptied the contents
 into his fat hand. What he saw there made his eyes fly open C4 wide open.
 Jewels! The very thing for which he had been wishing. "Emeralds!" gasped
 the King, rubbing the glittering necklace between his fingers. "Where did
 you get this, Twobyfour?"
"They were sent to your Majesty by a merchant in the Second County, who got
 them from a traveling peddler. The peddler had got them from a Gilliken,
 who had got them from a Quadling, who had got them from a Munchkin, who had
 once lived in the Emerald City of Oz."
"OZ!" snapped the King, sitting up very straight. "Where is Oz?"
"Oz is a great and powerful Kingdom on the other side of the Deadly Desert,"
 answered Twobyfour, looking uneasily over his shoulder at Pinny Penny.
"Then how did this peddler cross the desert?" demanded Skamperoo, holding
 the necklace up to the light and feasting his eyes greedily on its gleaming
 emeralds.
"That I cannot say." Twobyfour cast a longing glance at the door, heartily
 wishing himself on the other side.
"Then perhaps you will tell us why you did not turn this necklace over to
 the king," suggested Pinny Penny mournfully.
"Yes, how dared you keep it?" panted Skamperoo indignantly. "And what are
 you gaping at, Threebysix? I'll wager you were in this, too."
"He was," shouted Twobyfour hoarsely. "He tried to steal the jewels from me.
 That's how he got the black eye."
"But you tried to steal them from me, and what about $$that&&, my fine
 fellow?" Twobyfour turned a painful and uncomfortable scarlet under the
 King's accusing eye.
"In Skampavia we have so little, your Majesty," he stuttered miserably.
 "With these emeralds I thought I might buy a bit of land in some cooler and
 more comfortable country where my wife and boys could be happy C4 a
 country where flowers would grow in a garden, and where a man would not
 have to spend his whole life wrestling with rocks and weeds and drilling
 for hours in the hot sun for no reason whatsoever."
"Hah!" exclaimed Pinny Penny, looking meaningly at the King.
"Hah, yourself!" grunted Skamperoo wrathfully. Then, as the emeralds
 continued to sparkle and glitter in his hand, his anger subsided. "You did
 very wrong to keep the necklace, Twobyfour," he stated mildly. "But I have
 decided to forgive you. Return now to the Second County and explain to the
 merchant who gave you this necklace that I must have all three."
"All three!" exclaimed Twobyfour. "But he's entitled by law to two of them."
"My word is the law here, and you can choose between a broken law or a
 broken head," Skamperoo told him calmly.
"He is the KING," murmured Pinny Penny in a quiet voice. There was nothing
 sarcastic in the manner of his speech, but something in the Prime
 Minister's expression made the King prickle with discomfort.
"Yes, I am the King," he shouted explosively, "and moreover I have spoken.
 Begone, both of you, and YOU, Twobyfour, have two days to return with those
 two necklaces. The necklaces or your HEAD, do you understand? And C4 er 
C4 er C4 you may tell that merchant in your county that he need send no
 more of his wares to the capital; the three necklaces will suffice," he
 bellowed as the two Supervisors went bolting through the door.
"Now nice, they will suffice. You are the King," sniffed Pinny Penny with a
 sour smile.
"Are you a parrot or a Prime Minister? Stop repeating that silly stuff and
 tell me about Oz," commanded Skamperoo, clasping the emerald necklace
 around his fat throat. "Have you ever heard of this place, Pinny Penny? It
 must be a rich and marvelous country if peddlers can trade emerald
 necklaces as carelessly as we trade wooden beads."
"It is a marvelous country," answered Pinny Penny thoughtfully. "I remember
 my father telling me about the capital of Oz, an Emerald City where even
 the streets were inlaid with jewels, and every tower and wall was studded
 with emeralds."
"Well, why have I never been told about this?" wheezed the King peevishly.
 "A country like that just a precious stone's throw away, so to speak."
"Your Majesty has never cared for reading or study," Pinny Penny reminded
 him a bit maliciously. "In our library there is a whole history of Oz."
"Fetch it! Fetch it, bring it to me at once!" panted the King, bouncing up
 and down on his throne like a big, bad baby (which in truth he was). "I
 must discover why Oz is so rich and prosperous while we are so poor and
 unfortunate."
"Not so unfortunate and poor as we are unwise and greedy," stated Pinny
 Penny, stalking calmly across the room. "If your Majesty would study ways
 to improve Skampavia and allow your own subjects to keep a fair share of
 their crops and merchandise, we might be a powerful country, too."
"Nonsense! What can we do with a rocky little desert like this?" blustered
 Skamperoo contemptuously. "Skampavia is a dull little Kingdom, a dumb
 little Kingdom C4 a KingDUMB, that's a good name for it."
"And you?" murmured Pinny Penny under his breath as he hastened away to
 fetch the book on Oz. Returning, he plumped the fat volume down on the
 King's knees and stood back with folded arms.
"Well? Well? Do you expect me to read all this?" wailed Skamperoo in dismay.
 "Why, it would take a year or more. Explain it to me, Pinny Penny. Just
 give me the gist of the matter. Jist give me the gist C4 there, I've made
 a joke. Ha! Ha! Ha! I've made a joke."
"But Oz is no joke," said the Prime Minister shortly. "Your Majesty had
 better get that through your head at once. Now attend closely, and I will
 endeavor to give you the most important facts about this rich and
 enchanting country across the desert. In the first place," Pinny Penny
 looked severely over his specs, "Oz is about fifty times as large as
 Skampavia, a great, oblong, undulating country divided into four triangular
 Kingdoms. Each of these Kingdoms has its own ruler, but all four are
 subject to the rule of Ozma of Oz, whose capital, the Emerald City, is in
 the exact center of Oz.
"A girl?" exclaimed Skamperoo, leaning forward excitedly. "How can a mere
 girl rule over an important country like that?"
"By using her heart as well as her head, by encouraging thrift and rewarding
 industry," announced Pinny Penny in a tone that made the King wince. "Your
 Majesty would do well to read of her wise laws and plans for the betterment
 of her country."
"You may just skip all that," sniffed Skamperoo, closing his mouth
 stubbornly. "Tell me, who are the rulers of these four Kingdoms and the
 general customs and characteristics of the people."
Closing his eyes and putting his fingertips together, Pinny Penny began
 solemnly: "The Northernmost country of Oz is the Land of the Gillikens,
 famed for its luscious grapes, plums, wisteria, and heather. It is a purple
 country and is ruled over by Joe King and Queen Hyacinth, who live in an
 amethyst-trimmed castle high in the Gilliken Mountains. The Eastern Empire
 of Oz is a yellow country, known for its wheat, corn, butter, pumpkins,
 daffodils, and gold mines. Nick Chopper is Emperor of the Winkies, and this
 singular ruler is entirely made of tin plate and celebrated in song and
 story as `The Tin Woodman of Oz.'FF20" Pinny Penny paused a moment to
 catch his breath and then continued quietly:
"The Southland is red and noted for its strawberries, tomatoes, beets, red
 birds, red wood, and red heads. Glinda, the Good Sorceress, governs the
 Quadlings, who make up its inhabitants, and she knows as much magic as Ozma
 herselfFF20C4"
"Oh, it's one of those magic places where one just snaps the fingers to get
 what he wants," sighed the King discontentedly. "Well C4 Well, go onFF20
C4"
"The Western Country of Oz is blue," continued Pinny Penny obligingly, "and
 everyone has heard of its famous Blue Ridge Mountains, its blue birds, its
 violets, its blue skies, and its capital, the Sapphire City. Cheeriobed is
 King and Orin is Queen of the Munchkins, and they live in the Sapphire City
 in almost as much magnificence as Ozma in the Emerald City. Is that all you
 wish to know?"
"About the army," muttered Skamperoo, wrinkling up his forehead. "Has this
 girl ruler a great army stationed at her capital?"
Pinny Penny grinned in spite of himself. "The young fairy ruler of Oz is
 opposed to all wars and fighting and has at her court an army consisting of
 one tall soldier with green whiskers," he explained hurriedly.
"One soldier with green whiskers!" shouted the King, nearly tumbling off his
 throne. "I never heard anything more ridiculous in my life. I thought you
 said Oz wasn't a joke, and yet you stand there and tell me about an army
 with one soldier. Why, that's the funniest thing I ever heard. Ha, haw,
 haw!"
"Laugh if you wish," said Pinny Penny resignedly, "but don't forget that
 Ozma has more magic at her fingertips than we have pebbles on our desert.
 In her palace lives the famous Wizard of Oz, who can work every sort of
 transformation and enchantment, but does so only for the good of the
 country."
"Humph!" exclaimed the King. "Well, how many fighting men have we?"
"Seven hundred Skampavian soldiers in each of the seven counties," answered
 Pinny Penny reluctantly, "but let me warn your Majesty that the idea you
 have in your head is sheer madness and will lead to nothing but ruin. Take
 off your crown, put on your nightcap and dream away this foolishness."
"And a fine-looking crown it is," snapped the King, snatching off his crown
 and looking at it angrily. "But these emeralds will brighten it up a bit,
 eh Pinny Penny?"
"It is not the sparkle of gems in a King's crown that count, it is the
 jewels of wisdom in the head under the crown that make him happy and well
 belovedFF20C4"
"Stop! Enough!" yelled the King, hurling the crown with all his might at
 Pinny Penny. "When will you stop this infernal lecturing and scolding?"
"When your Majesty stops talking nonsense," sighed Pinny, catching the crown
 with one hand and pulling a long bell cord with the other. "Come now, let
 us have our tea and forget about Oz," he proposed calmly. "Lemon or cream,
 your Highness?"
"Lemon!" growled the King sourly, and slapping open the book of history on
 his knees, he stared long and enviously at a picture of the Emerald City of
 Oz.

CHAPTER 2
THE KING AND THE MERCHANT
Two days had passed since Skamperoo had come into possession of the emerald
 necklace. He had never taken it off for a moment. He even wore it to bed,
 and spent most of the daytime admiring himself and it in the palace
 mirrors. Now, as the afternoon of the second day drew to a close, he kept
 bouncing over to the windows that commanded a view of the Highway.
"If that rascal does not turn up soon, I'll C4 I'llFF20C4"
"Explode, probably," predicted Pinny Penny, who was playing solitaire with
 the only pack of cards the castle afforded. "Calm yourself, Skamper, what
 good are these emeralds when you come right down to it?"
"Good? Good? They are worth more than this whole miserable castle," answered
 the King indignantly. "I can sell them and buy C4 no, no, I'll never part
 with them," he corrected himself hastily. "They give me a feeling of
 importance and power. Our star has risen, Pinny Penny. Great days are
 ahead. Hark! Listen! Is that a footstep in the courtyard?" Darting back to
 the window, the portly monarch flattened his nose against the pane. "It's
 Tooby! It's Twobyfour!" he shouted, hopping up and down like a schoolboy.
 "And there's a tall, bearded stranger with him."
"If your Majesty will quietly seat yourself, I'll endeavor to announce
 them," reproved Pinny Penny, gathering up his cards. "Remember, you are a
 King and not a jumping jack."
"Oh C4 all right." Skamperoo flung himself heavily down among his cushions,
 and presently the tramp of feet along the corridor proclaimed the arrival
 of the long-awaited Supervisor. Pinny Penny advanced stiffly to meet him
 and after a whispered conversation, he called out in a bored voice:
 "Twobyfour, Governor of our Second Province, and Matiah the Merchant, your
 Majesty!"
"Yes! Yes? But where are the emeralds?" panted Skamperoo, leaning forward
 eagerly as the two travelers advanced respectfully to the throne. Drawing a
 small bag from his leather jerkin, Twobyfour held it sullenly out to the
 King.
"Here, your Majesty, and here also is the merchant who goes with the
 necklace." Twobyfour haughtily indicated the turbaned Skampavian beside
 him.
"Yes! Yes, the merchant." The King, intent upon the jewels, did not even
 look up. "He goes with the necklaces, you say? Well, ha! Ha! Now he may go
 without them. That is all I require of you, my good fellow. Your presence
 here is not necessary or desirable. You may go. GO, do you understand?"
"Go?" Matiah drew himself up to his fullest height, which was pretty high, I
 can tell you. "Perhaps your Majesty will suggest where? For these three
 necklaces I traded my house, my shops, and all my other possessions. You
 say that is all, and it is indeed. Since you have taken all I own and
 possess, your Majesty must take me also. You owe me a living, and I am here
 to say so."
"Say no more," put in Pinny Penny soothingly. "Matiah is right, Skamperoo,
 and well within his rights as well. We must make a place for him in the
 palace. What can you do?" he inquired practically.
"Do?" The merchant opened his eyes very wide. "Do? I am a merchant
 accustomed to dealing in jewels, china, cloth, and basketwear (sic)."
"Then you'll be the very one to help out in the kitchen and laundry,"
 proposed Pinny Penny brightly. "There are no jewels, but we have onions and
 potatoes aplenty, and with the dirty dishes and hampers of soiled linens
 you will be right at home."
"What?" screamed Matiah as Twobyfour snickered behind his hand. "You require
 this mean-ial toil of me C4 Matiah, son of Metorah, son of Metanic,
 merchants for these thousands of years? This is preposterous! An outrage! I
 will go! I will go indeed. I will start a war, an uprising, a revolution!
 Help! Help! Help!" yelled the merchant shrilly. "The King has stolen my
 emeralds."
"Stop! Stop! Not so loud," begged Skamperoo, leaping agilely off his throne
 and pattering anxiously after Matiah. "You may leave us, Pinny Penny, I
 think I can find something better than kitchen work for this honest
 citizen."
"Humph!" snorted Pinny Penny, and motioning for Twobyfour to follow him, he
 marched disapprovingly from the royal presence.
"You musn't mind old Pinny," puffed the King, dropping a bit breathlessly on
 his throne. "There, there, now, sit down and make yourself comfortable. As
 I was saying, Pinny Penny has very odd notions at times."
"Very odd," agreed Matiah, and seating himself on a chair opposite the King,
 he fastened his eyes greedily on the sparkling chains now clasped firmly
 about the monarch's fat throat.
"Now, then, we must find something easy and pleasant for you," went on the
 King, scratching one ear reflectively. "You might, er C4 you might spend
 your time entertaining me. I'll wager you are just full of good stories,
 songs, and amusing tricks."
"Tricks?" exclaimed the merchant, elevating his nose disdainfully. Then a
 sudden gleam came into his small, black eyes. "Tricks!" he repeated more
 pleasantly. "Ah, your Majesty is right. How well you have guessed my
 secret." Leaning forward, he held his hand up to his mouth, and looking
 furtively over his shoulder whispered hoarsely, "I am a magician, King, and
 well versed in the arts of sorcery."
"Sorcery!" cried Skamperoo, clasping himself delightedly about his middle.
 "How perfectly panormick! Magic is the very thing we need around here. Tell
 me quickly, what can you do? How much magic do you know?"
"Is there some place where we can be quite alone?" Matiah held up his hand
 mysteriously. "NO one must know I am a magician. It must be a secret
 between us."
"Of course! Of course!" agreed the King, rolling off his throne with more
 speed than dignity. "Come to my private walled garden. No one can hear us
 there."
"No one?" asked Matiah sharply. "Are there then no guards upon the wall?"
"No guards, no servants, no one at all is allowed in my garden," the King
 assured him proudly.
"And is there a door in the garden's wall?" Matiah, stroking his long beard,
 stood regarding the King thoughtfully. "My first trick requires a door."
"Of course there's a door, or how should I get out and in myself? Come
 along, come along!" Waddling into the corridor, Skamperoo started off at a
 quick trot for his private garden. Matiah, grinning wickedly to himself,
 stepped softly after the King. Once in the garden, he meant to have his
 necklaces, even if he had to take off the King's head to get them.
"One sweep of my scimitar," murmured the merchant to himself, "Ho, ho! this
 is too easy!" The King's garden when they reached it was no more than a
 small, sandy square with some cactus plants in the center and a rickety
 bench against the wall. Seating himself heavily on the bench, Skamperoo
 made room for the merchant beside him.
"Now, then," he grunted hurriedly. "Begin. Show me what you can do. Prove
 that you are a magician."
"First I must have the necklaces," stated Matiah calmly. "Without the
 necklaces I cannot do a single trick."
"But C4 but if the magic is in the emeralds, I can be my own magician,"
 answered Skamperoo, clutching the chains with both hands.
"But your Majesty is not a magician," Matiah told him reasonably. "You do
 not know the proper words or incantations. No, I myself must wear these
 magic jewels. And what harm is there in that? As soon as your wish is
 granted, I will hand them straight back to you."
"What's that? Can you really grant wishes?" Skamperoo's eyes began to snap
 and dance with greed and interest.
"Certainly," promised Matiah, blinking shrewdly across the square and
 estimating with his eye the distance he should have to run to reach the
 door in the garden wall. "All you have to do is to think of something you
 want, close your eyes, count slowly to a hundred, and I, wearing the three
 necklaces, will easily grant your wish. I thought you trusted me and that
 we were going to be friends," he finished reproachfully.
"We were. Er, that is C4 HERE, take them!" Unclasping the heavy chains,
 Skamperoo, who already had a wish in mind, thrust them into the merchant's
 hands. Closing his eyes, he made his wish and then began to count
 hysterically, "One, two, three, four, five, six." At six, Matiah was
 halfway across the garden, when horrors! A great white horse with a golden
 tail and mane dropped like a plummet from the sky. Pawing up the sand in
 Matiah's path, he flashed his yellow eyes so wickedly, the merchant fell
 back into the cactus bushes, where he lay screaming with shock, pain and
 amazement. But Skamperoo, thinking all the noises he heard were but magic
 incantations, went calmly on with his counting. He had reached sixty before
 Matiah had recovered himself enough to crawl out of the cactus and make his
 way cautiously back to the bench. The immense white horse continued to
 stare at him threateningly, but as it made no attempt to spring forward, he
 began to regain a little of his usual assurance and courage.
"Great Garoo! Then there $$was&& magic in the emeralds. This horse was
 undoubtedly the King's wish come true, a beastly wish!" shuddered the
 merchant as he stared in fascination at the pawing monster and wondered
 what to do next. He was afraid to run past the white horse and escape with
 the jewels, but HAH! he could make a wish for himself, a wish that would
 carry him and the emeralds far from Skampavia, the farther the better.
 Closing his eyes, he muttered a hurried sentence and waited tensely to be
 transported to Ev, a country he had once visited in his youth. But nothing
 at all happened, and gritting his teeth with vexation, Matiah opened his
 eyes just as Skamperoo finished counting a hundred.
"So!" beamed the delighted monarch heartily. "You have done it. You really
 $$are&& a magician. Behold my horse, a horse in a thousand. A golden-maned
 charger fit for a King, for a ConquerorFF20C4"
"Of all the dumb things," fumed Matiah, wriggling fiercely away from
 Skamperoo, "of all the dumb things to wish for, a horse is about the
 dumbest of all!"
"Dumb?" whinnied the white steed with an indignant snort.
"I'm not a dumb beast, I can laugh, I can talk,
That's becoz I'm from Oz, and my full name is Chalk."
"Cha-lk?" quavered Skamperoo, who had never heard an animal speak a word in
 his life. "He C4 he says his name's Chalk." The King looked appealingly at
 the merchant, and seeing he would have to live up to the role of magician,
 Matiah assumed an air of careless superiority.
"Well, he doubtless knows his own name, your Majesty. If he says his name is
 Chalk, it probably is Chalk, and the reason he can talk is because he comes
 from Oz, land of the magic necklaces, where all animals speak as well as we
 do."
"Better," sniffed Chalk. Then, taking a experimental nibble at the cactus,
 he gave a terrific squeal of pain and displeasure C4 flung up his heels
 and began to race around the garden at such a furious pace, Matiah and the
 King jumped behind the bench and cowered miserably against the wall.
"Well, there you are!" panted the merchant angrily. "You have your horse,
 and what now? He's yours, you know, and you'll have to control him." Matiah
 ducked behind the King as Chalk thundered past, covering them both with
 dust and sand. "If you ask me, you simply wasted a wish. Why, you might
 have wished yourself a ton of emeralds, or a Kingdom ten times as large and
 prosperous as Skampavia, orFF20C4"
"But there's plenty of time for that," sputtered Skamperoo, holding
 desperately to the bench, "since you are a magician, you can grant all of
 my wishes."
"Oh no, no indeed!" Matiah spoke hastily, remembering the way the emeralds
 had failed to grant his wish. "I can grant only one wish a week," he
 explained breathlessly, "and I trust next time you will think before you
 wish. Whoa, there, you Ozian brute! You silly monster. Stop that! Whoa! Ho!
 Whoa, I tell you!"
"Are you my master?" Leaping lightly over the cactus, Chalk came to a sudden
 halt before the bench.
"No, this King is your master," answered Matiah thankfully enough. "Speak to
 him, Skamper," he urged in a lower voice as Chalk reared curiously up on
 his hind legs to have a good look at the King.
"Be C4 behave yourself," commanded Skamperoo tearfully. "How do you expect
 me to ride on your back if you act like this?"
"Ah, so you expect to ride me?" Chalk came down with a thud and grinned
 broadly at his new master. If you have never seen a horse grin, you have no
 idea how upsetting it can be. "Well, I suppose I shall have to put up with
 you," he neighed finally. "Just call a groom or servant, old Rub-atub, and
 see that I'm served my evening oats, three apples, and a measure of corn."
"Certainly, certainly," agreed the King, starting off on trembling legs.
"Well, I must say this is splendid, splendid!" protested Matiah, hurrying
 nervously after the King. (He was afraid to stay in the garden with Chalk.)
 "Where do you expect to get taking orders from a horse?"
"I suppose you'd prefer me to take them from you!" puffed Skamperoo,
 beginning to grow a little angry himself. "Here, GIVE me my necklaces."
 Snatching the emeralds from the merchant's neck, he went charging into the
 palace hardly knowing whether to be glad or sorry for the sudden change in
 his fortunes.
But by the time he reached the throne room, he had calmed down considerably.
 Seating himself hurriedly on his throne, he pondered how he could keep all
 these strange occurrences from Pinny Penny. He felt sure Pinny Penny would
 never approve of magic necklaces or a talking horse. Well now, he'd just
 tell his meddlesome Prime Minister that the stamping, snorting steed in the
 garden belonged to Matiah and must be fed and stabled. When he made another
 wish C4 and he had a whole week to think about that C4 when he made
 another wish he would be careful to wish for everything he needed. As for
 this whiskery wizard, he would flatter him along until he discovered the
 right magic to use with the emeralds. Then he would wish him away like
 that. Like THAT! Snapping his fingers spitefully, Skamperoo pulled the long
 bell cord that summoned Pinny Penny. His Royal Charger should be fed. Not
 many monarchs had a talking horse with a golden mane. Aho, but he was
 coming on! He'd show Pinny Penny yet what a smart ruler he was!
Now Matiah, following the King slowly into the palace, had done some
 reflecting, too. He resolved not to lose his temper again with this
 provoking simpleton of a sovereign. He would simply humor him along, and
 before the week was out he would have another chance to steal the necklaces
 and escape to some far country. There at his leisure he would experiment
 until he discovered the right way to use them. He could not understand why
 the King had got his wish and his own wish had gone for nothing. What was
 the secret of the magic emeralds? With his forehead still wrinkled in
 thought, Matiah entered the throne room and quietly seated himself in a
 chair opposite Skamperoo. Much to his relief, the King neither reproached
 nor upbraided him.
"As, so there you are!" he cried in his best meant-to-be-cheerful voice. "I
 have just sent Pinny Penny to feed your horse."
"$$My&& horse?" barked Matiah, starting up in dismay. Then, catching a
 meaning wink from the King, he quickly winked back.
"It seemed wisest," murmured Skamperoo, "to say nothing of your magic powers
 for the present. All this will be OUR secret," he finished playfully.
"Oh, yes, yes, indubitably!" While Skamperoo was still wondering what
 "indubitably" meant, Matiah hurried out of the room and took a long drink
 of water from the old-fashioned fountain in the hall. "OUR secret!" he
 repeated bitterly to himself. "Our secret, indeed!"

CHAPTER 3
MORE ABOUT THE EMERALDS
Skamperoo had not slept a wink. He tossed from side to side of the royal
 bed, his head simply buzzing with enchanting plans for the future. With the
 magic emeralds he could have everything he desired, and his desires and
 wishes were multiplying so rapidly he scarcely knew where to begin or what
 to wish for first. The necklaces pressed uncomfortably against his throat,
 but he would not take them off. He was so weary he ached in every bone, but
 still he could not stop thinking, and just as the castle clock tolled
 seven, the very thing he should wish for first came suddenly to him.
Ah, that was it. Too bad he had to wait a whole week, but a week would pass,
 and perhaps during that time he would discover for himself the magic secret
 of his sparkling new treasures. Then he could be his own magician and put
 that meddlesome merchant in his place. As he was running over in his mind
 possible places to send Matiah, the door of his room opened cautiously, and
 Pinny Penny stuck in his head.
"Well! Well? And did I ring?" grunted Skamperoo fretfully. "This is a fine
 time to awaken an Emperor."
"Emperor?" exclaimed Pinny Penny, coming all the way into the room and
 closing the door. "Since when has Skampavia's King become an Emperor?"
"Oh, go away and don't bother me." Turning his back on Pinny Penny, the King
 thumped his pillow and closed his eyes as tightly as he could.
"It's all about the horse," whispered Pinny Penny, coming around to the
 other side of the bed. "A strange and magnificent animal for a mere
 merchant, if I may be permitted to say so. Not only that, it TALKS. It's
 ordering the stable boys around in a shocking manner, and it even told ME
 to mind my own business."
"Well, why don't you?" suggested Skamperoo, rolling over on his back. "Of
 course he talks, Pinny; he's an Oz horse, and all animals from Oz talk. I
 thought you knew that."
"Well, if this merchant has a talking horse, he is not so poor as he
 pretends," persisted Pinny Penny, shaking his finger under the King's nose.
 "My advice is to set the fellow on his horse and send him about his
 business as quickly as possible. I don't like his looks, Skamper. He's mean
 and mischievous, and mark my words, no good will come of him or his
 necklaces."
"I don't like his looks any better than you," agreed the King, clasping his
 fat hands on his stomach. "But if I keep the emeralds, I must keep the
 merchant, and besides, I've a notion I could ride that talking horse
 myself."
"Oh, good goats and gravy! Then I'd best go and lay in a supply of splints
 and liniment." Pushing his specs up on his forehead, Pinny Penny cast a
 disgusted glance at his huge reclining master and rushed hurriedly from the
 royal presence.
Now Matiah, as you can well imagine, had slept no better than the King. In
 the small room to which Pinny Penny had taken him, he paced restlessly up
 and down. After all, he knew only two facts about the magic emeralds, the
 first that they really could, under certain conditions, grant wishes; the
 second, that they must not be worn by the person making the wish. This much
 the merchant had reasoned out for himself.
As the King had got his wish while he, Matiah, was wearing the necklaces,
 and he himself had not got the wish he made with the emeralds around his
 own throat, that much seemed certain. Snapping his fingers joyfully and
 feeling sure the King was now wearing the jeweled chains, Matiah made a
 second wish, counting slowly to a hundred. But the hearty supper he had
 ordered as a test failed to appear, and flinging himself down on the bed,
 he began to rack his brains for some other solution to the mystery. Perhaps
 the magic power rested in a single stone which he had luckily touched as
 the King made his wish.
Holding his head with both hands, he tried to remember exactly what he had
 done as Skamperoo began to count. But it was no use. He could not recall a
 single thing after he had started to run across the garden. And how,
 concluded the infuriated fellow, was he ever to discover the way to use the
 emeralds without arousing the King's suspicions or revealing the fact that
 he knew no more about them than Skamperoo himself? Muttering with vexation,
 he kicked a footstool all the way across the room and sat staring morosely
 at the worn carpet. The short, uneasy nap he finally got before morning did
 him no good, and cross and jumpy as a cougar, he made his way to the dingy
 dining hall of the palace.
The King had already breakfasted, and looking out of the window, Matiah saw
 a terrified servant leading the Talking Horse around the courtyard,
 Skamperoo following at a safe distance. The sight of the stamping white
 charger made Matiah shudder anew. What a waste! he reflected bitterly, and
 if the King grew fond of the saucy monster, it would make his own task even
 more difficult, for until he succeeded in stealing the necklaces Matiah did
 not intend to let Skamperoo out of his sight. Gulping down the weak coffee
 and cold eggs a shabby servant grudgingly placed before him, he hastened
 outside. "Good morning, your Majesty!" he called out heartily. "And may I
 have a word with your Royal Highness?"
"What kind of a word?" snickered Chalk, rolling his yellow eyes roguishly
 round at the merchant. "Give him a word, old Rub-atub, if that's all he
 wants. The right word for him, I should way, would be `GO!' or `NO!' and
 then we all could be happy."
"It is about the necklaces," confided Matiah, ignoring the horse utterly and
 falling uneasily into step with the King. "They must be cleaned every day
 to keep them in good wishing condition."
"But I was just going for a ride," objected Skamperoo with a little frown.
 "Won't this afternoon do?"
"No, NOW is the proper time," answered Matiah impressively, thinking how
 clever he was to have invented this ruse to get hold of the emeralds. "If
 your Majesty will just give them to me, I'll polish them up while you are 
C4 er C4 exercising."
"No, no, er C4 That is, I'd better come and help you," Skamperoo spoke
 quickly. "I can ride this afternoon."
"You think so?" With an exuberant prance, Chalk rose on his hind legs and
 spun around like a pinwheel. "Well, see you later, old Sos!" And with the
 terrified stable boy hanging onto his bridle, he went galloping off to the
 stable.
"If you take my advice, you'll have that creature knocked on the head," said
 Matiah savagely. "Surely you won't endanger our lives by riding on his
 back."
"OUR lives!" exclaimed Skamperoo, looking at Matiah in surprise. "You do not
 have to ride him; in fact, he's really my horse," he stated jealously.
"So long as your Majesty wears the magic necklaces I must go wherever you go
 and do whatever you do!" explained the merchant loftily.
"How C4 How very awkward!" In spite of himself, Skamperoo groaned as he
 thought how tiresome it would be with Matiah trailing after him from
 morning to night. "I should think a magician like yourself could arrange
 things more sensibly."
"But consider what is at stake," Matiah reminded him earnestly. "Together we
 can have and do anything we wish. Is that not worth a little
 inconvenience?"
"Yes, yes, I suppose so. But if we are to do everything together, I think I
 should know the magic wishing formula as well as you." Skamperoo looked
 defiantly up at his newest advisor.
"That is impossible." Striding stiffly along, Matiah shook his head. "The
 incantation once revealed becomes powerless. Only one versed in magic is
 permitted to use the emeralds. Have you thought at all about your next
 wish?" he asked, anxious to direct the King's mind into more cheerful
 channels. "We should plan and consult about it together, you know. But wait
 until we are in your Majesty's throne room," he added quickly as Skamperoo
 began to open and shut his mouth like a fish without saying anything.
 "While I am cleaning the necklaces, we can talk it over, yes?" Matiah's
 fingers fairly itched for the sparkling jewels, but restraining a mad
 impulse to snatch them from the King's throat, he walked along quietly
 beside Skamperoo talking so calmly and convincingly that he soon had the
 Skampavian monarch not only willing but anxious to reveal the wish that had
 kept him awake most of the night.
First assuring himself that they were alone and locking the door so they
 would not be disturbed, the King seated himself at a small table. Matiah
 drew up a chair opposite and held out his hand for the necklaces.
 Reluctantly, Skamperoo handed them over, keeping a jealous eye on the
 jewels as the merchant began polishing them with a small square of silk he
 had taken from his pocket.
As he rubbed the silk over the emeralds, Matiah carefully examined each one
 for some mark or sign that would give him a clue to their magic power.
 Intent as he was upon this task, a few low-spoken words of Skamperoo made
 him sit suddenly erect and regard the King with new respect and attention.
 How in thunderation, thought Matiah wonderingly, has this fat, silly
 monarch ever managed to hit upon such a magnificent and breathtaking wish,
 and as Skamperoo explained and elaborated upon his plan and schemes for the
 future, the merchant's interest grew apace. Quicker and cleverer than the
 King, he saw not only the possibilities of this splendid wish, but all the
 difficulties and problems that must be met and disposed of before it could
 reasonably be granted.
Leaning forward, the emeralds for the moment forgotten, he put his mouth
 close to Skamperoo's ear. "There are three things that must be done before
 your wish can be realized." Matiah spoke tensely. "FirstFF20.FF20.FF20.
 secondFF20.FF20.FF20. thirdFF20.FF20.FF20." After each short,
 whispered direction, Skamperoo nodded to show that he understood.
"Then it will take four wishes to do it," he sighed, resting his elbows
 heavily on the table. "That will be four weeks, won't it?"
"No, perhaps if we are careful we can work it all into one," answered Matiah
 thoughtfully, and taking up his bit of silk, he began polishing the
 emeralds with renewed vigor. The King, watching him, forgot his former
 dislike and distrust. Matiah's enthusiastic approval of his plans made him
 feel that perhaps he had misjudged this long-faced, whiskered stranger.
 Perhaps he would not wish him away, after all. He might prove very useful
 in the strange and magnificent future that stretched ahead.
Matiah, on his part, had no such kindly intentions toward the King. He
 merely meant to make Skamperoo's wish his own, and so grand and daring was
 the prospect that he grew more impatient than ever to discover the way to
 accomplish it. Holding all three necklaces up to the light, he squinted at
 them anxiously. The chains seemed identical in every respect, but no C4
 what was this? One had a diamond clasp, while the clasps on the other two
 were of flattened emeralds. This, then, was the solution. The magic wishing
 power undoubtedly rested in the diamond clasp. Revealing in no way his
 satisfaction and elation over this important discovery, Matiah handed the
 necklaces back to the King.
Somehow, decided the merchant, he must make Skamperoo touch the diamond
 clasp while he silently repeated the King's wish, but before that he needed
 a little time to prepare himself for the grand and glorious years that were
 to be his. As Skamperoo, exhausted by so much thinking early in the
 morning, waddled wearily over to his throne, Matiah strode to the
 bookshelves located in an adjoining room.
"While your Majesty rests, I will have a look at this interesting library,"
 he murmured ingratiatingly, "and at the same time store up some useful
 information for the future." Skamperoo sleepily returned the merchant's
 broad wink, then, sinking back among his cushions, closed his eyes.
>From his chair in the alcove, Matiah could keep the King in view, and
 satisfied that Skamperoo was really asleep, he began hurriedly turning over
 the pages of the large volume Pinny Penny had but that morning returned to
 the shelves. Soon he became so absorbed that he forgot all about the King.
 And that was a pity, for had he taken the trouble to look, he would have
 discovered that the King was no longer $$there.&&.

CHAPTER 4
THE KING AND HIS TALKING HORSE
Now it is true that the King had closed his eyes as Matiah settled himself
 in the alcove to read, but he was very far from asleep. In fact, no more
 than five minutes had been ticked away by the old-fashioned clock in the
 corner before Skamperoo straightened up as if suddenly struck by lightning.
 Casting a cautious look at the quiet merchant, he began to slide rapidly
 toward the door. Opening it without a sound, he slipped out into the
 corridor and, closing it just as softly, went puffing away to the quarters
 of the White Wishing Horse at the back of the courtyard. Though usually
 unenterprising and dull, we must credit Skamperoo with one brilliant idea.
 As Chalk had been brought to Skampavia by the magic emeralds, why should he
 not know the trick of using them? Fairly panting with eagerness and
 impatience, Skamperoo jerked open the door of the stable and stepped
 recklessly into Chalk's stall.
"Ah, the little Kingaling!" whinnied Chalk, tossing his mane gaily. For some
 reason or other, he found his fat master tremendously amusing, and while he
 had an immediate desire to trample on Matiah and frighten off the stable
 boys, he felt only an affectionate tolerance for the tubby little ruler of
 Skampavia. "Have you come for your ride?" he inquired, giving the King a
 playful poke with his soft nose.
"No, I've come to talk to you," wheezed Skamperoo, seating himself carefully
 on an overturned water bucket. "Quick, tell me all you know about these
 magic emeralds." Touching his three necklaces with a trembling forefinger,
 the King looked imploringly into the face of his new and powerful steed.
"Humph!" Chalk shifted a mouthful of hay to his other cheek. "Well, as to
 that, or rather them, all that I know is nothing. You forget that I only
 came into existence yesterday afternoon."
"Of course, of course! I was the one who wished you here," explained the
 King impatiently.
"You wished me here?" mused Chalk, staring meditatively at the comical
 figure on the water bucket. "Well, I hardly know whether to thank you or to
 jump on you with all four feet. Even without any experience at all, I can
 see that this is no place for me."
"You're right," sighed Skamperoo, clasping his knees dejectedly. "It's no
 place for me, either. That is why I must know about the emeralds. They can
 satisfy our every wish, and if we just knew how to use them, we could go
 away together."
"You think you could manage that!" sniffed Chalk, who had his own opinion as
 to what would happen once the King mounted on his back.
"Yes, together!" insisted Skamperoo. "Try to think," he begged earnestly.
 "You say you know nothing, then how did you know you came from Oz and your
 name and all that?"
"That's right, how did I?" Putting one ear forward and one ear backward,
 Chalk swallowed his hay with a quick gulp. "There must be a lot of stuff in
 my head that I practically know nothing about," he reasoned thoughtfully.
 "Suppose you tell me exactly what happened, and then I'll tell you what I
 think of it." So, hunching forward, Skamperoo recounted the whole story of
 the merchant and the necklaces, how he and Matiah had retired to his
 private garden, how there, with the merchant wearing the emeralds, his
 first wish had been granted.
"And a splendid wish it was, too," sighed Skamperoo, looking fondly up at
 his white horse. "Never forget that you were my first wish, fellow."
"I'm hardly likely to forget myself," snickered Chalk loftily, "but attend
 closely, old Crown and Scepter, when I dropped down into that garden, yon
 whiskered merchant was running for the gate as if his life depended on it.
 He only stopped because he was afraid to pass me, and from the way he fell
 into those cactus bushes, I'll wager he was as astonished as you were that
 the emeralds had granted your wish." Chalk wrinkled his forehead shrewdly.
 "I don't believe he knows any more about the necklaces than we do. If he
 did, he would never have sent you one in the first place, and he would have
 granted all of his own wishes and been in some splendid other place.
 Matiah's a fraud!" finished the King's horse vehemently, "And he means to
 steal back the emeralds."
"Of course! Of course! Oh! Oh! Why didn't I think of that myself? What shall
 we do now?" wailed Skamperoo, jumping up so quickly he overturned the
 bucket, for Chalk's frankly spoken opinion confirmed his own suspicions of
 the merchant.
"Sit down," advised the white horse not unkindly. "I may not be a magician,
 but I have a little sense, and horse sense is what your Majesty needs more
 than anything else." As Skamperoo righted the bucket and meekly sat down
 again, Chalk closed his eyes, standing silent and motionless for so long
 the King though he had fallen into a trance. But just as he began to fidget
 nervously about on the uncomfortable edge of the bucket, the white horse
 opened his eyes and, flashing a triumphant smile at Skamperoo, began
 calling in a loud, lordly voice, "Boy! BOY! BOY!"
While the King regarded him with mingled misgivings and admiration, Chalk
 snapped out directions to the clumsy little groom who came running in
 answer to his summons. When his mane and tail had been thoroughly brushed
 and he was decked out once more in the splendid saddle and trappings he had
 worn on his first appearance in Skampavia, he dismissed the groom with a
 haughty toss of his head.
"Come!" he breathed mysteriously. "Climb up, Skamperoo, and we'll
 Skamperoodle before that rascally merchant even misses us. Have you decided
 upon the place we are to go?" he questioned curiously as the King made
 seven frantic efforts to put his foot in the golden stirrup. "Heh! Heh!
 Heh! The other foot, Master. How do you ever expect to mount that way?
 Stand on the bucket, Kingaling, catch hold of the saddle, and pull. It's
 easy as oats once you get the hang of it."
"Is it?" Lying mournfully on his back where he had fallen after his last
 effort, Skamperoo gazed mournfully upward, and Chalk himself began to
 champ, snort and switch his tail with irritation.
"You wished me on yourself and now it looks as if you would have to wish
 yourself on me," he muttered savagely. "Here, give me those necklaces C4
 hang them over my ear, and let's have done with this shameful exhibition."
"You mean, if I wish myself upon your back I will really be there?" panted
 Skamperoo, bouncing up like a rubber ball. "You mean you have discovered
 the secret of the emeralds?"
"Certainly!" The white horse regarded him scornfully through half-closed
 eyes, and the King, all too willing to be convinced, unclasped his three
 necklaces and, standing on tiptoe, hung them over Chalk's right ear.
"I C4 I wish to be upon this creature's back," puffed Skamperoo, his cheeks
 swelling out with suspense and importance. "One, two, three, four, five,
 sixFF20C4" and scarcely had he begun to count before he found himself
 firmly seated in the saddle.
"Now, now, not another word," commanded Chalk sternly. "Before you dare to
 speak, take those emeralds off my ear." With shaking hands the King did as
 he was told, his heart pounding so violently it almost kicked a hole in his
 shirt.
"That's right," directed the white horse more mildly. "Now suppose you tell
 me where you intend to wish us and what we do after that. Wishes are pretty
 quick, you know, and it is best to be prepared."
"But C4 but I cannot understand how you make them work," spluttered
 Skamperoo. "It's wonderful, it's marvelous. Do you understand what this
 means?"
"Perfectly." Chalk rolled his eyes triumphantly round at his greedy little
 Master. "My head seems to be full of magic, which is not strange, seeing
 that I was magically brought into existence, and the trick of the
 necklaces, once I got to thinking about it, is quite simple. Now I am what
 I am C4 a horse, and quite satisfied, but you with these emeralds may
 easily make a jackass of yourself, so you had better tell me what you wish
 before you wish it. For instance," he went on reprovingly, "if instead of
 wishing yourself upon my back you had wished yourself a good horseman, how
 much wiser that would have been. There's a lot more to riding than getting
 into the saddle, you know. But never mind that now. What was this great big
 wish you and Matiah were planning together?" Leaning so far forward he
 almost lost his balance, Skamperoo hurriedly whispered into Chalk's left
 ear his grand and glorious wish for the future, being careful to add to his
 own wish the three crafty suggestions made by the clever merchant.
"You are sure this is what you desire?" Chalk looked sharply and a little
 sadly at the rotund and royal figure on his back. "You mean to go away and
 leave your own people without a thought or care? Isn't there anyone here
 you would like to take along or give a share of your good fortune?" The
 King shook his head violently.
"I might make a wish for Pinny Penny," he added rather sheepishly.
"Good idea," sniffed Chalk. "What are you going to give old Skinny Pins? You
 know, I rather like that old codger." Without delay and a bit spitefully,
 the King told him, and as this time Chalk found no fault with the wish,
 Skamperoo again placed the emeralds over Chalk's ear and quickly spoke nine
 words. Then, without waiting to see whether Pinny Penny got his wish, Chalk
 again took command.
"If you do exactly as I say, we'll get off before Matiah discovers you are
 gone and comes down here to slice off your head to get his necklaces," said
 the white horse severely. Lowering his voice to a whisper, he slowly
 enunciated four brief sentences. Tingling partly with fright and partly
 with anticipation, Skamperoo repeated the four sentences after Chalk and
 began his counting. But stars! Scarcely had he reached ten before he felt a
 great lift and lurch, had just time to snatch back his emeralds and seize
 the reins before he and the huge white wishing horse, without leaving even
 a rustle in the quiet air, had gone, vanished and completely disappeared
 from Skampavia.

CHAPTER 5
A GREAT CELEBRATION IN OZ
"Why all the crown jewels, old Toz?" Resting his chin on the window ledge,
 Highboy looked inquiringly into the dressing room of Joe King, ruler of the
 Gillikens and all of the purple countries of Oz. The King's apartment was
 on the tenth floor of the royal palace, but this made no difference to
 Highboy, for Highboy was a giant horse whose telescope legs could be raised
 or lowered to any level, making him one of the most amazing and amusing
 animals in Oz. "I say, are we going anywhere in particular?" he drawled
 curiously as the King, decked out in his best braided traveling coat and
 amethyst crown, surveyed himself cheerfully in the long mirror.
"WE!" chuckled the merry monarch, turning round with a hearty roar. "Ho, Ho,
 HO! And how do you know YOU are going?"
"Well, I see you are wearing your best purple boots, and when the King of
 all the Gillikens wears his best purple boots, he usually rides his best
 purple horse, does he not?"
"Right," admitted the King good naturedly, "and I might as well tell you at
 once that we are going to the capital at the express invitation of her
 Imperial Highness, Queen Ozma of Oz!" The King cleared his throat
 importantly. "There is to be an immense festival to celebrate the discovery
 of Oz by mortals, the honors to be equally divided between the famous
 Wizard who arrived here in a balloon from Omaha many years ago and little
 Dorothy, who came by way of a Kansas cyclone somewhat later. Not only will
 the rulers of all four Oz Kingdoms be present, but many other important and
 Royal personages as well."
"Well? Well, indeed!" trumpeted the giant horse shrilly. "There you stand
 all shined up like a doorknob and never a word to me. How'll I look? Why
 wasn't I told before? When do we start?"
"Just as soon as her Majesty decides what to wear and what to take with
 her," answered the King with a solemn wink.
"Oh, then I'll have bushels of time." Highboy sighed heavily with relief.
 "So we're invited to the Emerald City, eh? How perfectly perf, how simply
 magnif. Billy! Tommy! JIM!" As he called the name of each little groom,
 Highboy let himself down a couple of stories, and by the time he reached a
 usual horse height and level on the ground, he had ordered himself a bath,
 a mane wave, an oil shampoo and a hooficure. Indeed, Highboy's plans for
 the party went on apace and with the three grooms pattering after him with
 buckets, brushes and sponges, he trotted anxiously up and down his great,
 airy stable picking out his most splendid saddle and bridle and
 silver-braided blanket for the journey. The giant horse wished to make an
 impression that would uphold if not enhance the honor and reputation of the
 Gillikens. He was eager to renew his friendship with Trot, a little mortal
 girl who lived in the palace and with Herby, the Medicine Man, and the many
 other interesting characters he had met on a former visit to the capital.
In the Munchkin, Quadling, and Winkie Kingdoms there was also a lively
 bustle and stir of preparation, and in many of the lesser Kingdoms the
 Kings, Queens and Potentates made ready for the great spring festival in
 the Emerald City. And you can imagine the fun and excitement in the capital
 itself. Everyone had some special part in the program; even the dogs and
 cats ran importantly about on countless errands like small messengers,
 their ears and tails quivering with interest and expectancy. After the
 visitors had been officially welcomed at the gates of the city, there was
 to be an imperial procession with bands, floats and favors for everybody.
 Then there were to be games, races, and other exciting athletic events and
 a grand banquet in the Royal Palace. A magic-lantern ball in Ozma's garden
 would complete the festivities for the first day. For the second, pageants
 and tableaux depicting the important and historical events of Ozian history
 had been arranged for the morning. Notta Bit More, a circus clown who had
 come to Oz from Philadelphia, was putting on an outdoor circus in the
 afternoon, helped by Bob Up, the orphan who had come with him, and all the
 famous animals in the Emerald City. From the squeals, shouts, and hilarious
 chuckles issuing from the huge white tent set just beyond the city wall, it
 promised to be an unqualified success.
After the circus, Ozma had planned a picnic supper on the banks of the
 Winkie River, to be followed by demonstrations in magic by the Wizard of Oz
 and Glinda, the Good Sorceress of the South, and last, but not least, a
 lavish display of fireworks sent especially for the grand occasion by Happy
 Toko, Emperor of the Silver Isles. No wonder the children in the Emerald
 City could think of nothing but the coming celebration. No wonder Dorothy,
 Trot, and Bettsy (sic) Bobbin, the little mortals who lived in the great
 palace and were Princesses in their own right, were too busy to think of
 their titles or bother with their crowns. Dorothy, the first of the three
 to reach the capital, was Ozma's favorite companion, and Dorothy was
 perhaps the busiest of all. Not only had she planned all the tableaux and
 pageants, but had entire charge of decorating the palace and the Emerald
 City as well. The Scarecrow, whom Dorothy had discovered on her earliest
 trip to Oz, was her most willing and tireless assistant. This lively
 straw-stuffed gentleman had brains given him by the Wizard and was in high
 favor and constant demand because of his natural cheerfulness and amiable
 disposition.
At the moment, he and Dorothy were superintending the erection of a floral
 arch over the great jeweled gates of the City. This arch, grown and tended
 by the Wizard, was so magically compounded that as each visitor rode
 through the gateway, a ribbon-tied bouquet of fragrant spring flowers
 dropped lightly into his or her lap. Dorothy and the Scarecrow had tried it
 out to their complete delight and satisfaction, and now, clasping their
 large bouquets, watched three energetic little gardeners tie up the last
 tendrils of the magic vine to the gaily painted arbor.
"You know," said Dorothy, peering over the flower tops at the Scarecrow, "I
 can hardly wait till tomorrow. To think we'll be seeing Sir Hokus and Ojo
 and Unk Nunkie and Urtha and Prince Tatters and all the othersFF20C4"
"And they'll be seeing us, too, remember that," beamed the Scarecrow,
 closing one cotton eye. "And now, if you can manage for a few minutes
 without me, I had better go and study up on my speech of welcome."
"Oh, are YOU making the speech of welcome? How grand! How thrilling!"
 Dorothy gazed admiringly up at her oldest friend in Oz.
"Yes, and I'm also making the speech awarding medals to the Discoverers of
 our country," confided the Scarecrow, thrusting out his chin and striking
 an attitude. "How will you feel when I pin that medal on your chest, my
 girl?"
"Well," sighed Dorothy, looking dreamily over her bouquet, "I couldn't feel
 any happier than I do now, but it certainly will be a great honor,
 Scarecrow."
"A great honor! Well, I should snickerty wicker. But what if I forget my
 speech right in the middle of a word?" The Scarecrow pushed back his old
 blue hat and puckered up his forehead anxiously. "How will I feel with all
 those Kings and Queens staring right at me? Really, I think Ozma had better
 have someone else make the speeches."
"Oh, go along with you," laughed Dorothy, giving him a little push. "Haven't
 you magic brains? You'll be a splendid speechmaker."
"Do you think so? Well, I'll do my best." Somewhat reassured, the Scarecrow
 patted Dorothy on the shoulder and started off through the park. Dorothy
 could tell from the way he flung his arms about that he was rehearsing, and
 with an amused little smile she hurried back to the palace to put the
 finishing touches to the decorations for Ozma's throne room. Halfway there,
 she met the Hungry Tiger carrying a large basket in his teeth and followed
 by ten little kitchen boys, also bearing enormous baskets.
"Good gracious, Tige, what's this?" Dorothy stared at the little procession
 in surprise. The Hungry Tiger and Cowardly Lion have lived in the Emerald
 City almost as long as Dorothy, and though the tiger's appetite is
 tremendous and he is always threatening to eat a fat baby, he has never yet
 done it and is tame as Dorothy's pet kitten Eureka.
"Oh, hadn't you heard?" The Hungry Tiger set down his basket and smoothed
 back his whiskers complacently. "I'm the head of the reception committee
 for all visiting animals and am on my way now to buy refreshments for the
 great banquet and picnic. And trust me," he gave Dorothy a broad wink, "to
 do it right. Just let me see that list, Kapo." Taking a long slip from the
 first Kitchen boy, he began to drone off the names of the capital's famous
 four-footed citizens and then the list of visitors.
"Of course there must be meat for the Cowardly Lion and myself," mused the
 Tiger, blinking his eyes sleepily. "Then there's Hank, Bettsy Bobbin's
 Mule, and Doubty, that dromedary you and Sir Hokus brought back from one of
 those strange journeys, and we musn't forget Peter's Iffin, though he
 doesn't eat much. Put down a box of violets and geraniums for the Iffin,
 Kapo, my lad. Ozma's Saw Horse and the Woozy, being of wood, don't care for
 food, but that fine pink pig Pigasus eats enough for a dozen horses, and
 Toto, your little dog, and Billina must be taken care of, too, and Scraps'
 bear Grumpy."
"Of course," agreed Dorothy, leaning her elbow on the Tiger's back so she
 could read the list over his shoulder. "But they all live here. Who's
 coming from foreign parts, Tiger?"
"Well," confided the Tiger, "you'll be glad to know our old friend the
 Comfortable Camel is making the trip with Hokus C4 I mean the Yellow
 Knight C4 and Marygolden, the Princess he married, is riding a warhorse
 named Stampedro. The King and Queen of the Gillikens will make the trip on
 the Giant Horse (quite a lot of horses, aren't there?), and I hope Highboy
 keeps his legs in bounds. It makes me nervous to see a creature one height
 one minute and another height the next. You knew the Prince of Pumperdink
 was bringing Kabumpo, the Elegant Elephant?"
"Don't you mean that Kabumpo is bringing him?" put in Dorothy mischievously.
 "And won't you be glad to see him again?"
"Yes, I'll be glad enough to see him," murmured the Tiger, "but feeding him
 is quite a big problem."
"Well, you're just the one to do it," said Dorothy, smoothing away the
 wrinkle between the Tiger's pointed ears. "You have such a big appetite
 yourself, you'd know just how hungry an elephant would feel. I see you've
 got Roger down, too."
"I'm pretty sure King Ato will bring his Read Bird, so I'm ordering a dozen
 boxes of animal crackers for Roger and a barrel of apples for Snufferbux."
"I wonder if he'll dance for us." Dorothy's eyes brightened, for she had
 taken a great fancy to the faithful bear with whom Ojo had traveled all
 over Oz. "He's bound to be jolly and full of fun."
"And hungry as a bear," sighed the Tiger with a worried frown. "But that is
 easy compared to a dragon. King Cheeriobed is bringing a dragon, and this
 dragon's on a diet of mustard and sulphur C4 think of that, my child C4
 and SAY, I'd best get along, or I'll never get my marketing done."
"And I must go, too," said Dorothy, reminded of her many responsibilities.
 So, giving the Tiger's ear an affectionate pull, she ran all the way back
 to the palace. In the throne room she found Ozma and Tik Tok in a quiet
 conference.
"I've made Tik Tok Master of Ceremonies," said Ozma, looking up with a smile
 of welcome, "because he never forgets what he's wound up to remember."
"And I'll be sure to keep him wound up," promised Dorothy, patting the
 machine man on his copper shoulder. Tik Tok was another of Dorothy's
 discoveries and had been manufactured by a magician to be a slave of the
 King of Ev, but here he was, thanks to Dorothy, enjoying a life of interest
 and ease in the capital. Tik Tok could talk, think, and move about as well
 as anyone when he was wound, and was much more reliable and tireless than a
 real person.
"I am to an-nounce the vis-i-tors as they en-ter the pal-ace and
 per-son-al-ly con-duct them to their roy-al quar-ters," Tik Tok told
 Dorothy in his slow and precise manner. "Oz-ma can de-pend on me
 ab-so-lute-ly, and ev-e-ry-thing will go like clock-work." With two stiff
 bows and ticking with importance, the metal man marched proudly from the
 room.
"Like clockwork. Ha, ha! Did you hear that, and why not, with a clockwork
 man in charge? Oh, Ozma, doesn't it all look grand and gorgeous?" Clasping
 the little Queen around her slender waist, Dorothy gazed around the
 beautiful throne room. Every window and doorway was garlanded with flowers,
 while hundreds of palms, ferns, and fluttering silk pennants gave it an
 unwonted look of pomp and ceremony. "Let me see," mused Dorothy,
 straightening the folds of a white satin curtain. "I'm to stand on your
 right, Bettsy Bobbin and Trot on your left, and the Patchwork Girl is to
 hold your train at the grand reception. Do you think you can trust her,
 Ozma? She'll probably try to jump rope or wave it like a handkerchief."
"Oh, Scraps is pretty good, considering her giddy make-up," observed Ozma
 with a little smile, "and she would be so disappointed not to be with us.
 I'm sure I can trust her C4 at least for a little while."
"Trust me? Trust me? You disgust me," shouted a merry voice, and Scraps, who
 had been peeking through the curtains at the back of the room, took a long,
 running slide, landing in an unladylike heap at the foot of the dais
 leading to the throne. Scraps, made from an old crazy quilt and stuffed
 with cotton, had been brought to life by a magician to serve his wife, but
 the Patch Work Girl had come to the Emerald City with Ojo and never
 returned to her creators, scorning the humble career of a maid servant. She
 was so gay and amusing, Ozma had allowed her to remain at the palace.
"Must I go in training to hold a train?" she demanded, springing to her feet
 and striking so comical an attitude both Dorothy and Ozma had to laugh.
"Of course not," said Ozma kindly, "just be careful and do not do any
 gymnastics during the reception."
"Oh, I'll be careful and so dignified I'll probably split a seam, but wait
 till you see the grand-aerial-balance-defying stunt I'm to put on for the
 big show," puffed Scraps, snapping her button eyes boastfully. "I'm to walk
 the tightrope in Notta's circus, so SO long, girls, I must go and
 practice."
"Well, even if she falls, it won't matter," remarked Dorothy with a slight
 shudder as the Patch Work Girl jumped recklessly out of the window and
 picking herself up set off for the circus grounds on the edge of the park.
"Oh, Ozma, with all the interesting people here already and with all the
 grand and exciting ones who are coming, I believe we'll have the best time
 we've ever had since Oz was discovered."
"Are you glad you discovered us?" Giving her an affectionate squeeze, Ozma
 linked her arm through Dorothy's. "Let's see how the Wizard is getting on
 with his tricks for the picnic."
Dorothy nodded eagerly, and hand in hand the two girls hurried across the
 corridor to the laboratory of the wonderful Wizard of Oz.

CHAPTER 6
A STRANGE WARNING
The first day of the grand celebration dawned clear and bright. The Emerald
 City had never seemed more sparkling or fair. Flags fluttered from every
 tower and turret of the palace; each house wore a garland of flowers and
 flaunted a dozen silken banners in the fresh spring breeze. The streets
 were alive with Ozma's subjects suitable costumed for the big parade, and
 when, shortly after noon, the Royal Visitors began to arrive, the castle
 bells broke into a joyous tolling, the hundred bands struck up the Oz
 National Anthem, and the magnificent and beautiful floats began to swing
 into line.
The Scarecrow's address of welcome at the City Gates had been greeted with
 wild enthusiasm and applause, and now, happy but somewhat breathless, the
 indefatigable Straw Man mounted on the Saw Horse was leading the
 illustrious Guests into the City, where they were to join the Royal
 Procession and proceed in triumph to the West Gardens of the park. What
 shouts and cheers went up from the happy throngs as that impressive company
 in their glittering coaches or riding their favorite steeds moved
 majestically through the emerald-studded streets of the capital. Directly
 following the Scarecrow, all in red and wearing her tallest ruby crown, was
 Glinda the Good Sorceress of the South, her swan-drawn chariot seeming to
 float by itself. Marching cheerfully after the Ruler of the Quadlings came
 Nick Chopper, the Nickel-Plated Emperor of the Winkies, polished to the
 highest degree but democratically afoot, marching in the center of his ten
 splendid uniformed Winkie Guards. A few steps behind the Tin Woodman and
 prancing along in hardly restrained exuberance was the Giant Horse, proudly
 bearing Joe King and Queen Hyacinth, King and Queen of the Gillikens. And
 Highboy not only carried his own head high, but he had elevated his
 sovereigns above everyone else in the procession so that none could miss
 the happily smiling rulers of the North.
A dazzling blue dragon had pulled the coach of King Cheeriobed, Queen Orin
 and Prince Philador all the way from Sapphire City, and an eye-filling
 sight was the Royal Family of the Munchkins. Kabumpo, the Elegant Elephant,
 resplendent in his jeweled robe, swayed haughtily along after Cheeriobed's
 blue coach, waving his trunk in a dignified way to this friends in the
 crowd. In the canopied seat on his back rode Prince Pompadore and Peg Amy
 of Pumperdink, easily the handsomest young couple in Oz.
Peering mischievously out the side of his gaily painted jinrickisha was the
 merry Red Jinn himself, and no one could view the rotund little Wizard of
 Ev without feeling happier. Jinnicky's body was a great red jar. He wore
 the lid for a hat, and when he grew bored or sleepy he would simply retire
 into himself like a turtle. But now he did not feel at all like retiring
 and was showering ginger cookies right and left and simply beaming with
 interest and jollity. The King and Queen of Ragbad rolled briskly along in
 their shabby but comfortable open coach. With them were Prince Tatters,
 Urtha, his flowery little Princess, and Grandpa, an old Soldier with a
 wooden leg, who had gone through many wars and hardships for the sake of
 his country.
But the shout that greeted the Yellow Knight was loudest and longest of all.
 The Prince of Corumbia had lived in the Emerald City for many years as Sir
 Hokus of Pokes before he was disenchanted and became the young and charming
 husband of Princess Marygolden of Corabia. Sir Hokus rode the Comfortable
 Camel, and Camy, who had also spent part of his life in the capital, came
 in for his full share of the cheering. Princess Marygolden was mounted on
 Stampedro, the Knight's great, stamping warhorse, and Stampedro was a sight
 to make any little boy's heart beat faster.
Ato, King of the Octagon Isles, and Samuel Salt, a reformed Pirate now Royal
 Discoverer and Explorer for the Crown, traveled together in Ato's Octogon
 (sic) Chariot drawn by eight prancing black horses with eight footmen in
 eight-sided hats on the high seat behind his merry little Majesty. Roger,
 the Read Bird, perched proudly on the King's shoulder, reading out the
 signs and street names as they bowled merrily over the gold paving stones,
 and chuckling to himself in eight different languages.
Last, but by no means least, came the King and Queen of Seebania, the King's
 uncle C4 better known in the Emerald City as Unc Nunkie C4 and the King's
 son, Ojo. The King and Queen were seated sedately in the Silver Coach of
 Seebania, but Ojo and his pet bear Snufferbux were proudly mounted on the
 back of Roganda, Queen of the Unicorns. This handsome, snow-white beast,
 who had happened to be visiting Ojo at the time, could not only send her
 horn darting out like a lance, but could blow it as well. The sound of its
 clear, bell-like notes made many a trumpeter in Ozma's band turn round with
 surprise and envy. Drawn up to meet her impressive visitors was Ozma
 herself. The Royal Float of Her Imperial Highness was formed like a
 seashell. On an uncut emerald in the center sat the little Ruler of all the
 Ozians dressed in a shimmering white robe, wearing her flashing emerald
 crown, and never in all the thousand years of her young life had this
 lovely young fairy looked more beautiful. Also in white were her
 attendants, Dorothy, Bettsy, and Trot, each wearing an emerald circlet and
 carrying a long wand draped with spring flowers.
As the Scarecrow brought his bright cavalcade to a triumphant halt, Ozma's
 float, drawn by the Hungry Tiger and the Cowardly Lion, swung into place at
 the head of the line. The other Emerald City Floats, first waiting for the
 Royal Equipages and mounts of the visitors to pass, swept after them in a
 burst of music and color. The Wizard of Oz had chosen a huge, revolving,
 green ball on which the nimble little necromancer ably kept his balance as
 he propelled himself along. After him came Jack Pumpkinhead, riding the
 Iffin. Herby, the Medicine Man, clinging precariously to the Doubtful
 Dromedary's hump, the pills and boxes in his medicine chest rattling like
 castanets, was another figure of interest. The float of Notta Bit More
 represented a circus ring, and the antics of the clown, Pigasus, Bob Up,
 Scraps, Hank and Grumpy, the Patch Work Girl's bear, kept the onlookers in
 a gale of hilarity.
Tik Tok had rigged up a mechanical handcar, which he operated himself.
 Benny, the live statue of a public Benefactor, who had come to Oz from
 Boston, strode solidly along, an expression of pride and deep satisfaction
 on his well-carved features. Beside Benny marched the Soldier with Green
 Whiskers, looking neither to the left nor right, as became a man who
 represented in his own person the whole and entire army of Oz. I have only
 mentioned the most outstanding of the Emerald City paraders. Besides these,
 there were countless marchers and hundreds of miniature castles, ships,
 huge make-believe sea serpents and dragons, and in a blaze of color and
 harmony they wound through the streets of the capital, ending up in the
 West Gardens of the palace, where the boys and girls from Professor
 Wogglebug's Athletic College distinguished themselves in a series of
 gymnastic displays, and the Scarecrow established an all-time record for
 pole vaulting.
By the time Ozma had awarded the cups and trophies, the sun had begun to
 slip down behind the treetops, and in high spirits and with splendid
 appetites the Royal Party and the Royal Guests turned toward the castle.
 Here Tik Tok, who had hurried on ahead, nobly discharged his duties as
 Master of Ceremonies. The Cowardly Lion did the honors for the Four-Footed
 visitors, leading each to an airy, shower-equipped stall in the Royal
 Stable so they could rest and refresh themselves before the Grand Banquet.
 And how shall I do justice to that dazzling affair?
For the first time in its history the magnificent Dining Hall was filled to
 capacity. Easily as large as a city park, there was just room for the two
 long, sparkling, flower-laden banquet tables, the first for Ozma's
 courtiers and guests, the second for the palace pets and visiting animals.
 The Scarecrow caused a roar of hilarity as the diners took their places by
 donning a pair of dark spectacles to prevent eyestrain from the flashing of
 so many jewels and crowns. With each course of the long, delicious dinner,
 Ozma had a different King, Queen or Celebrity at her side, and so cleverly
 had it all been arranged, each guest had the honor of sitting for a time
 beside the Kingdom's Little Fairy Ruler. Soft music floated down from the
 balcony where the Royal orchestra was concealed behind a bower of palms.
 The bright robes and jewels of the banqueters and the emerald and silver
 dinner service twinkled and sparkled in the magic glow of a thousand
 candles. The hundred footmen were swift and skillful, the speeches were
 short and merry, "And never," thought Dorothy, looking around with a little
 thrill of satisfaction, "never has there been so grand and yet delightful a
 party!"
The Hungry Tiger had remembered the tastes and appetites of each of his
 guests, and not only were they served with the same dainties enjoyed by the
 Two-Footed visitors, but every one had a special dish of his own. Even the
 Dragon seemed to enjoy immensely his matches and mustard, then called in a
 hoarse voice for three pails of hot coals, after which he blew a whole
 series of smoke rings and went comfortably to sleep.
Dorothy and the Wizard had with due modesty accepted their medals for their
 discovery of Oz, and the whole company on its feet for this impressive
 ceremony were suddenly startled by a shrill scream from the Patch Work
 Girl. "His beard! His beard! Look at his beard!" yodeled Scraps. (Yes, I
 think "yodel" best describes the excited noise made by this irrepressible
 maiden.) "His beard, I said, it's turning RED!" At the word "beard," every
 eye turned to the Soldier with Green Whiskers, for his beard was the
 longest and most celebrated in Oz.
"Why, so it is!" exclaimed Dorothy in astonishment.
"Red?" choked the Soldier, desperately clutching his famous whiskers. "Oh!
 Oh! My beautiful green beard, it's red as fire. Oh! Oh! How can I ever be
 the Soldier with Green Whiskers if my beard stays red? Who did this?
 Wizard! Wizard, are you playing a trick on me?"
"Certainly not, Soldier. I'd be the last person to tamper with your sacred
 beard. Quiet, please! Quiet! This is extremely odd and disturbing." Jumping
 on his chair, the Little Wizard of Oz looked anxiously around the room.
"Do they hurt? Are red whiskers painful?" asked Scraps while the Royal
 guests, hardly knowing whether to laugh or sympathize, gazed curiously at
 the blazing beard of the Army of Oz.
"They C4 they hurt my feelings," blubbered the poor Soldier, holding out
 his bristling red whiskers in disgust. "I'll never get used to a red beard.
 Never! Never!"
"Why not cut it off?" inquired Prince Pompadore with some difficulty
 controlling his chuckles.
"What? Cut off my beautiful whiskers? Why, why, I'd rather lose my head,"
 moaned the Soldier with a horrified shudder. "How would I look? How would I

 fight? Oh! Oh! This is ridiculous!" Burying his face in his napkin, Ozma's
 distracted army rushed violently from the room.
"Red-iculous, if you ask me," observed the Scarecrow in his droll voice.
"No, no, it's MAGIC!" muttered the Wizard, stepping briskly down from his
 chair. "Wait, I must consult my book of red magic and portents."
"And I'll go with you," offered Jinnicky, rolling quickly out of his
 cushioned seat. "You know RED magic is my specialty." So, arm in arm, the
 Wizard of Oz and the Wizard of Ev bustled away together.
"Well, I can tell you what it means without consulting any books," said the
 Scarecrow as Ozma, looking rather troubled, again took her place and
 motioned for the others to do the same. "It is a warning," declared the
 Scarecrow, raising his arm stiffly. "Someone is coming to beard us in our
 den (pardon such an informal reference to your castle, my dear)." He made
 an apologetic little bow to Ozma and then continued seriously, "A danger
 from without threatens the Kingdom of Oz."
"Who would dare threaten the sovereignty of our country?" demanded the
 Yellow Knight, brandishing his sword.
"What's up? What's up?" neighed Highboy, elevating himself so suddenly he
 cracked his head against the ceiling.
"You should know, being so high," chuckled the Scarecrow, who could not
 resist a joke even when he was most serious. "But calm yourself, my good
 horse, you are not in danger yet." Danger! The short, ugly word dropped
 like a bomb into that gay and carefree assemblage. Dorothy, with a little
 pang of dismay, saw the Cowardly Lion creeping under the table, and feeling
 in her pocket for her handkerchief, drew out instead one of the Wizard's
 wishing pills. He had given it to her so she could visit the corn-ear
 palace of the Scarecrow the following week and do it by simply wishing
 herself there instead of making the journey. Dorothy fingered the pill
 thoughtfully for a minute or two, then with a sudden quick motion popped
 the small tablet into her mouth.
"Whatever happens, help me to save Ozma and Oz," murmured Dorothy, and
 swallowing the pill, she looked sharply around the room for further signs
 of warning or disaster.

CHAPTER 7
WHAT WIZARD?
At first, everything seemed as usual. Then, turning to ask the Tin Woodman a
 question, Dorothy was annoyed to discover that his chair was pushed back
 and he was nowhere in sight.
"Oh, he's probably helping the Wizard," decided Dorothy, and had no sooner
 come to this comforting conclusion before she gave a second start of alarm.
 Glinda, the Good Sorceress, was no longer in her seat at the foot of the
 table, and running her eye hurriedly down the glittering board, Dorothy saw
 five more empty places. Pressing a finger to her forehead, Dorothy tried to
 remember who had been sitting in the five deserted chairs. Surely Joe King
 and Queen Hyacinth had been there between Bettsy Bobbin and Trot, while
 Prince Philador, Queen Orin and King Cheeriobed had been directly opposite.
"Good Gillikens!" gasped the little girl, jumping quickly to her feet. "The
 rulers of all four Oz countries are gone, and Highboy's gone, too." And
 strangely enough, nobody seemed to have missed them. Instead, they were
 listening with broad smiles and appreciatively tapping toes to the loud and
 hilarious singing of the Patch Work Girl. Scraps, thinking it a shame to
 let a mere change of whiskers spoil a good party, was enlivening the
 company with her newest and most comical rhymes. So loud was her voice and
 the applause of the banqueters, Dorothy found it impossible to make herself
 heard, so running around to the back of the Scarecrow's chair, she tugged
 him anxiously by the arm. "Scarecrow! Scarecrow!" whispered Dorothy
 hoarsely. "Where are the Four Rulers of Oz, and whatever can be keeping the
 Wizard so long?" Tearing his gaze reluctantly from the Patch Work Girl, the
 Scarecrow looked dreamily over his shoulder.
"WHAT WIZARD?" he inquired blankly.
"THE Wizard, OUR Wizard, the wonderful Wizard of Oz." Dorothy stamped her
 foot and almost shouted with surprise and vexation.
"Never heard of him," declared the Scarecrow, smiling blandly down at her.
 "Now, why not sit quietly down and listen to Scraps? She's never been
 funnier. Ha! Ha! Ha! Never funnier!" Dorothy was so stunned and dumbfounded
 by the Scarecrow's statement about the Wizard, she opened and closed her
 mouth several times without saying anything.
"Mercy, I'd better tell Ozma about this," she thought distractedly, and
 swinging round abruptly, she scurried along back of the diners till she
 came to the head of the table. "Oh, Ozma!" panted the little girl
 breathlessly C4 then stopped short. There was no one in Ozma's great
 dragon-armed chair of state. The Yellow Knight and Prince Pompadore, who
 for the last course were in the seats of honor beside the little Queen,
 leaned unconcernedly across her empty place engaged in a long, earnest
 argument about horses. They looked up in surprise as Dorothy, her crown by
 this time very much on the side, bounced suddenly between them. "Where's
 Ozma?" demanded the little girl, thumping her fist sharply on the table.
"Ozma?" The Yellow Knight and Prince Pompa exchanged an uneasy glance. "Who
 is Ozma?" asked Prince Pompadore curiously.
"Oh! Oh, I think you are all perfectly horrid. Stop joking! Stop teasing
 me!" cried Dorothy, and as both Princes in frank amazement jumped up to try
 to comfort her, she rushed angrily from the room. As she fled along the
 green corridor she could still hear Scraps singing and the shouts and
 cheers of her listeners. "This is terrible, terrible!" wailed Dorothy, and
 running blindly down the long hall, she burst through the swinging doors of
 the Wizard's laboratory. What she had expected to find, Dorothy hardly
 knew. Really, she was hoping to see Ozma and the four other rulers grouped
 around the Wizard's green table.
But only a blank, suffocating silence answered her frantic calls for the
 Wizard. Frightened into silence herself, Dorothy tiptoed from one end of
 the other of the long, curiously appointed apartment, peering into
 cupboards, under sofas and back of screens. Where was the Red Jinn? Where
 was the Little Wizard of Oz? Not here, certainly. Not in the Banquet Hall.
 But the THRONE ROOM! THERE she would find all of her missing friends
 conferring with Ozma over the threatened danger to the realm. With a little
 gasp of relief, she darted across the corridor into the vast and
 magnificent Hall of Justice where Ozma received visitors, settled disputes,
 and carried on all the important business of governing.
They were not in the sumptuous presence chamber, but at least the throne was
 not empty. No, no indeed! Dorothy looked once, rubbed her eyes, looked
 again, and then, giving a shrill scream of terror, flung both arms round
 one of the emerald-studded pillars. An immense white horse was sitting on
 the throne of Oz. A great, fat King was sitting on the horse, or rather
 clinging desperately to his neck. Dorothy knew he was a King by the crown
 perched ridiculously on the side of his head. That crown seemed oddly
 familiar, and after another horrified glance, Dorothy screamed again, for
 it was the splendid emerald circlet belonging to Ozma of Oz.
Her screams seemed to rouse the two occupants of the throne, who, to be
 perfectly frank, looked as dazed and stupefied as Dorothy herself. "Go
 away!" sputtered the fat King, waving his arms irritably. "Go away, little
 girl, and don't bother me."
"And kindly bow as you leave," directed the White Horse, lifting one foot
 sternly. "You are looking at the Emperor of Oz and his Imperial Charger."
 Bowing more from astonishment than intention, Dorothy backed a few steps,
 then turned round and ran madly toward the Royal Banquet Hall.

CHAPTER 8
WAY FOR THE EMPEROR!
"Here, give her water! Give her air! Stand back, everybody. Now, then,
 what's the matter, child?" The Scarecrow bent solicitously over the little
 girl who had rushed into the banquet hall screaming hysterically about
 disappearances and white horses and fallen breathlessly into the chair
 beside him. "Come, tell uncle all about it," begged the Scarecrow, patting
 Dorothy clumsily on the head.
"Tell you!" choked poor Dorothy, twisting her best handkerchief into a hard
 knot. "Do I have to tell you? Can't you see for yourselves that Ozma is
 missing, that the Wizard and Jinnicky are gone, that Glinda and the Tin
 Woodman, that the King and Queen of the Gillikens and the King and Queen of
 the Munchkins have vanished entirely? And yet here you sit, singing and
 laughing as if nothing at all had happened. Can't you understand that
 something dreadful has happened to Ozma and that a big, fat, funny-looking
 man and a white horse are sitting on the throne of Oz?"
"Ozma, Ozma C4 who's she?" murmured the banqueters, looking vaguely at
 Dorothy and then at each other.
"She's feverish, that's what." Herby, the Medicine Man,20leaned over to
 touch Dorothy expertly on the forehead. "I'd advise you to go upstairs and
 lie down, my dear."
"Yes, who don't you?" urged Bettsy Bobbin, coming over to put her arm around
 Dorothy's waist. "I'll go up with you and lend you my very best smelling
 salts."
"Lie down, with that big, fat interloper on the throne of Oz?" wailed
 Dorothy. Squirming out of Bettsy's embrace, she started indignantly to her
 feet. "You must be crazy! Camy! Kabumpo! Snufferbux! Toto! You C4 you'll
 believe me, won't you?" Hurrying over to the second table, Dorothy looked
 pleadingly down the long board from the Hungry Tiger at the head to the
 Cowardly Lion at the foot.
"There, there," mumbled Kabumpo, lifting Dorothy up in his trunk. "don't go
 on so, my dear, we all have these little funny spells. Here, sit up on my
 back so you'll have a good view of the Emperor when he arrives. Hi, there
 he comes now! Ray! Ray! Way for Skamperoo, Emperor of Oz!" Waving Dorothy
 in his trunk as if she had been a flag, Kabumpo plopped down on his knees
 and banged his big head three times on the polished floor. From her
 precarious position Dorothy saw the same fat imposter who had been in the
 throne room riding his white charger pompously into the Banquet Hall, the
 horse nodding to the left and right and grinning like a Cheshire Cat.
Cheers, bows and a loud burst of applause and music made his entry so noisy
 Dorothy's angry protests and cries were entirely drowned out. Disgusted,
 confused and completely bewildered by the behavior of Ozma's subjects and
 her own best friends, Dorothy jerked away from Kabumpo and darted through a
 long French window into the garden. What could it mean? What could have
 happened? Had all her former memories of Oz been a dream? No, no!
 Violently, Dorothy decided against such an idea. Rather was this fat
 emperor a dream, a maddening nightmare from which she would presently
 awaken. Leaning dizzily against a golden fawn set near a crystal garden
 pool, Dorothy tried to find some reasonable explanation of the whole
 dreadful mixup. And here, several minutes later, Pigasus, the winged Pig,
 found her.
"Thought a little fly over the treetops might help your head," grunted
 Pigasus, looking unhappily down his pink snout. "Nothing like a little fly
 for a headache, my girl!"
"My head's all right," answered Dorothy sullenly. "It's the rest of you who
 have lost your heads or your senses. How in Oz you could stand in there
 cheering that big, fat fraud I'll never, never understand. Piggins, Piggins
 dearFF20C4" Dorothy bent coaxingly over him "C4FF20surely you remember
 Ozma and the Wizard and Glinda." Instead of answering at once, Pigasus
 stared thoughtfully at his reflection in the pool.
"Suppose you sit on my back, and then we can talk without being heard," he
 suggested brightly. "Up in the air we can air our views in safety, as it
 were."
"To tell the truth, I don't much care where I go now," sighed Dorothy,
 seating herself disconsolately on the pig's broad back.
"Hey, Hey, we're bewitched and enchanted, I knew it! With you on my back, I
 can think and see through it!" squealed Pigasus, and flapping his huge
 wings, he soared high over the flowering plum trees in Ozma's garden.
"Of course Ozma's Queen, not this big Skamperoo. The Ruler of Oz and the
 whole royal crew
Have been kidnapped, bewitched or put out of the way C4 We'll fly off for
 help, and we'll start right away."
"Oh, Piggins!" Dorothy threw both arms round the pig's neck and almost wept
 for joy:
"Oh Pigasus, to think you remember them, too, But where have they gone? What
 in Oz shall we do?"
"We'll find them, wherever they are they'll be found, But we'd best make our
 plans with our feet on the ground," muttered Pigasus, looking below for a
 likely spot to land.
There was one disadvantage about Pigasus, though some did not regard it as
 such. Like the winged horse Pegasus, whoever caught him and rode on his
 back at once became a poet and unable to speak anything but rhymes. The
 poetic pig could not only tell what they were thinking, but he often spoke
 his own mind in verse as well. At times this grew terribly tiresome, but
 except for his jingles, a more cheerful, loyal, little fellow could not be
 found in the length or breadth of the country. Raised and bred by the Red
 Jinn, he had been given to the Duke of Dork. The Duke had given him to the
 Philadelphia boy Peter, who in the course of a voyage with Samuel Salt, the
 Pirate, had captured the Duke's splendid castle boat. The capture had been
 quite a social and friendly affair, and the Duke had traded Pigasus for a
 Bananny Goat. Peter had later brought the flying pig to the Emerald City,
 where he was petted and admired by the whole court. Now, slanting down into
 a quiet grove, Pigasus came to a gentle stop, and Dorothy tumbled off his
 back.
"Oh, Pigasus, isn't it lucky you were in the Emerald City? Nobody else can
 remember Ozma or the others at all."
"And I only remembered them because you sat on my back," confessed the pig,
 twitching his nose thoughtfully. "It was my thought-reading gift that did
 the trick, and I am more than ever convinced that we are under some
 mischievous spell or enchantment. What I don't understand, my dear, is how
 you yourself escaped or chanced to remember things as they were. You know,
 before I came out here, it seemed perfectly right and natural for that roly
 poly pudding of an Emperor to be sitting at the head of the table. I knew
 no more about Ozma or Glinda or my former master Jinnicky than a newborn
 baby. By the way, Jinnicky's gone too, isn't he?"
"Yes," Dorothy shook her head sorrowfully, "and without him or the Wizard to
 help, we'll have a hard time, I guess. What shall we do first, Piggins?"
"How about having a try at some of the Wizard's magic?" proposed the pink
 pig daringly. "Then we might look in Ozma's magic picture and ask it to
 show us where all of our missing friends are now."
"Now why didn't I think of that myself?" cried Dorothy, and springing up she
 started off on a run.
"Wait! Wait!" grunted Pigasus, pattering breathlessly after her. "Remember,
 we must be very careful, my dear. No questions about Ozma, no remarks that
 will arouse the anger of this scalawag Emperor, or we'll both be clapped in
 a dungeon. We must pretend that we have forgotten, too, and get away
 quietly later tonight."
This seemed so sensible a plan, Dorothy readily agreed to it, and without
 attracting any attention at all they re-entered the palace and hurried
 immediately to Ozma's small sitting room. But if they expected the magic
 picture to solve their problem, they were soon doomed to disappointment.
 The picture was gone from its accustomed place, and the safe where Ozma
 kept her magic treasures and other valuables was wide open and quite empty.
 A quick search of the Wizard's laboratory proved equally discouraging. The
 Wizard's famous black bag was nowhere in sight, the little hanging closet
 where he stored his transformation powders and wishing pills was bare as
 the cupboard of old Mother Hubbard.
"Whoever planned this thought of everything," wheezed Pigasus, sitting
 heavily back on his haunches. "There is nothing here for us, Dorothy. If I
 were you, I'd get a few things together, and we'll leave right away before
 anyone misses you." From the cheers, shouts and hilarious singing coming
 from the banquet hall it seemed probably that the celebration would go on
 for hours. No one in that gay and foolish company even thought of or missed
 the little girl and the pink pig stealing so quietly through the dim halls
 of the palace.
"Ozma's palace," reflected Dorothy, looking resentfully over her shoulder;
 but now it seemed strange, alien and completely unfriendly. With a little
 shiver, Dorothy drew her cloak more closely about her and stepped
 resolutely out into the night. Pigasus pattered on ahead, snorting a bit
 from sheer nervousness.
"Maybe we'd better fly," he grunted uneasily as Dorothy caught up with him.
 "It's safer, and it's faster, and the faster we get away from here, the
 better, I'm thinking."
"I've been thinking, too," answered Dorothy in a low voice, "perhaps only
 the people in the Emerald City are under this forgetting spell, Pigasus;
 perhaps if we fly to the Winkie Country, the Winkies will remember their
 Emperor, the Tin Woodman, and will help us raise an army so we can come
 back, conquer this old Skamperoo, and make him tell where he has hidden all
 the proper rulers of Oz and the other celebrities."
"That's the talk! That's the talk!" approved the pig, twinkling his little
 blue eyes joyfully. "Up with you, up with you, my girl, but remember, if
 you grow sleepy, let me know at once, so I can descend. If you fall asleep,
 you might fall off my back, and think how I'd feel then."
"Think how $$I'd&& feel!" laughed Dorothy, her spirits lifting a little at
 the pink pig's comical conversation and enthusiastic seconding of her
 plans. Seating herself carefully on his plump back, she quickly gave the
 signal to start. Then up soared Pigasus, over the palace gardens, over the
 City Walls and away toward the East and the Yellow Lands of the Winkies.
"Oh, I believe everything is going to be all right," thought Dorothy,
 settling herself cozily between his wings.
"So do I," sniffed the pink pig, peering mischievously over his shoulder.
"I forgot you could read all the thoughts, Goodness Gracious!
Of those on your back, Do you mind it, Pigasus?"
"Now when they're nice thoughts like yours," puffed the little pig in answer
 to Dorothy's surprised rhyme, and winking his eye jovially, he zoomed like
 a pink Zeppelin through the sky.

CHAPTER 9
THE JOURNEY BEGINS
For several hours Pigasus flew without slackening his pace. Then, as several
 suspicious little yawns and sighs floated past his keen, upstanding ears,
 he solemnly slanted downward. If he had chosen it on purpose, he could not
 have found a more comfortable place for Dorothy to spend the night. They
 had already crossed the border and penetrated far into the Land of the
 Winkies and were now landing in the quiet garden of a prosperous Winkie
 farmer. Set in the center of a dancing bed of yellow daffodils and tulips
 stood a small summerhouse, and with Dorothy rubbing her eyes sleepily,
 Pigasus trotted briskly into the rustic cottage. The door was invitingly
 open, and the moon lit up its cozy one-roomed interior. Snorting with
 satisfaction, Pigasus pattered over to a broad couch piled high with yellow
 cushions, and rolling drowsily from his back, Dorothy burrowed contentedly
 into the center of them, falling asleep before the pig reached his own bed,
 a soft, woolly rug on the hearth.
Pigasus slept lightly but well, and waking around six began to gaze rather
 anxiously at the round yellow farm buildings just visible from the door.
 The pink pig had had several unfortunate experiences with farmers. They had
 a way of looking at his plump body that seemed to reduce him at once to
 slices of bacon and sides of ham. One enterprising fellow had actually
 caught him and shut him up in an untidy pen. From this foolish prison
 Pigasus had escaped by spreading his wings and flying away, but the mere
 mention of farmer gave him the shivers.
So now, moving impatiently about the little room, he waited for Dorothy to
 awaken, and as she continued to slumber on, he flew up over the mantel and
 swept a large yellow jug to the floor with his wing. The crash of the
 falling jar aroused Dorothy at once, and without stopping to explain,
 Pigasus suggested that they start off, and Dorothy, not even noticing the
 broken jug, readily consented.
"We'll probably find a much better place to have breakfast as we fly along,"
 murmured Pigasus as Dorothy seated herself between his wings, holding her
 small basket of supplies in her lap.
"Would it do any harm to stop at the farm And enquire about Ozma and spread
 the alarm?" asked Dorothy, who had rather counted on a cheerful breakfast
 at the farmhouse.
"No, it wouldn't do any harm," answered Pigasus, rising in a straight line
 from the tulip bed and winging rapidly over the yellow fields and fences,
 "but neither would it do any good. Farmers never know what's happening or
 going to happen. I tell you, though, we'll ask the first person we meet."
"Who would we meet in the air but a bird? Now really, Pigasus, that's simply
 absurd."
"Some of the smartest people I know are birds," insisted the pig stoutly.
 "Take Roger, for instance. He knows more than most of have forgotten. But
 look! A brook, a quiet wood! Stop! Listen! Look! For I crave food!" Making
 a swift downward curve, Pigasus landed cleverly by a rippling stream edged
 by some tall butternut trees. There were yellow raspberries along the bank,
 and the berries, with some of the sandwiches Dorothy had brought with her,
 washed down by cool water from the brook, made a splendid breakfast.
"I wonder whether they'll have the tableaux and pageant without me," sighed
 Dorothy, biting slowly into a sardine sandwich, "and how they manage the
 circus without you, Piggins, or the picnic supper without Ozma, or the
 magic and fireworks without the Wizard."
"They've probably forgotten all about today's doings," mumbled Pigasus,
 nosing busily among the leaves for ripe butternuts. They'll probably spend
 the time bumping their noses on the floor when that fat Emperor comes
 waddling through the palace and bending the right knee every time his white
 horse sneezes or coughs. Pah!" Choking with indignation, Pigasus began
 gobbling up so many butternuts, Dorothy feared he would never be able to
 fly or walk again.
"Let's stay on the ground for a while," she proposed, eyeing him rather
 nervously as she packed the remaining sandwiches neatly back in the basket.
 "I believe there's a path beyond those trees. Maybe it leads to a town or
 village where we may meet someone who can tell us what we want to know."
"You don't expect to find out where Ozma and the others are hidden straight
 off, do you?" Rubbing his back lazily against one of the butternut trees,
 Pigasus looked quizzically at his earnest little companion.
"No, I don't really expect that," said Dorothy, slipping the basket over her
 arm, "but it would be pretty nice if we met somebody who even remembered
 them after all we've been through."
"I can hardly remember them myself unless you are sitting on my back,"
 admitted the pink pig, trotting soberly along at her side. "This Emperor's
 magic must be strong medicine. Hello! Here comes a fisherman." Pigasus
 pricked up both ears and his wings. "Shall I question him, or will you?"
Without bothering to answer, Dorothy ran eagerly toward the tall Winkie who
 was coming leisurely along the path. He carried a basket and had a fishing
 rod over his shoulder, and though his clothes were rough, Dorothy could
 tell by his manner and bearing that he was a person of some importance.
"Oh, please, Mr. Winkie," cried the little girl as he nodded politely and
 would have passed them without stopping, "could you tell us who is King
 here?"
"King?" answered the fisherman, taking his pipe out of his mouth and looking
 kindly down at his small questioner. "Why, no one in particular, my dear,
 but of course we Winkies and the inhabitants of the three other countries
 of Oz are governed from the capital by Emperor Skamperoo, a great fellow,
 our Emp, and have you seen his white horse?"
"Yes, I've seen it," said Dorothy, shutting her mouth rather grimly.
"But I thought Ozma was Queen," wheezed Pigasus, out of breath from running
 after Dorothy and too many butternuts.
"Ozma? What a curious name," mused the fisherman, looking pensively at the
 winged pig. "What gave you the idea that Ozma was our ruler? Perhaps you
 are strangers here."
"Well, it would seem so," puffed Pigasus, sitting down and panting a little
 from sheer discouragement.
"Oh, you'll get used to us," laughed the fisherman with a breezy wave. "Fine
 country, this; sorry I can't show you 'round, but as I've promised my wife
 some fish for dinner, I'll have to be moving along. Good day to you. Good
 day, little girl!"
"Good day," echoed Dorothy in a rather flat voice as the fisherman, lifting
 his hat, strode briskly into the wood. "You see!" she groaned. "Even here
 everyone is bewitched. Oh, Piggins, what'll we do? No one in Oz will help
 or believe us."
"Goose-tea and turnips! What if they don't!" Pigasus shook his head
 impatiently. "There are other countries, aren't there? Take Ev, for
 instance, or Rinkitink, or the Rose Kingdom. Why, there are lots of places
 whose rulers will remember Ozma, my poor old friend Jinnicky, and the
 others. Come along, my girl, we've only just started.
"While people roar for the Emperor We'll seek our rightful ruler
>From coast to coast, from door to door Though foes grow cruel and crueller!"
"What we need is some magic," finished Pigasus shrewdly. "Know a good place
 to look for some?"
"The Gnome King has plenty of magic," reflected Dorothy, leaning
 thoughtfully against a tree, and Ozma and I really helped put him on the
 throne, so surely he'll help us."
"Well, maybe, but I don't set great store by gnomes. They're tricky;
 nevertheless, we'll go to Ev and everywhere else till we restore this
 country to its proper rulers." Pigasus looked so impressive with his chest
 and cheeks puffed out with purpose, Dorothy gave him a quick hug. "Down
 with the Emperor!" snorted Pigasus, though almost suffocated by Dorothy's
 embrace. "And up with you, my patriotic young Princess."
"Now you make me feel like a real one. I'd almost forgotten I was a
 Princess," smiled Dorothy, climbing obediently on his back. "I believe
 everything will be better from now on."
"Well, it could be a lot worse," chuckled Pigasus, and flapping his wings in
 a businesslike manner, he rose gracefully into the air and headed for the
 east. Rolling hills dotted with castles, villages and towns, valleys,
 farmlands and forests flashed in an ever-changing, pleasant panorama below.
 At noon they came down beside the Winkie River, finished up the rest of the
 sandwiches for lunch, and then looked eagerly around for someone else to
 question. But the yellow-bearded ferryman who presently came into sight
 poling his old-fashioned raft across the turbulent river knew no more of
 Ozma and the other rulers of Oz than the fisherman. But he told them many
 long and boring stories of Skamperoo and his white horse, Chalk. Dorothy
 and Pigasus had to make such an effort to listen politely, they were
 relieved when he finally shoved off and began poling himself back to the
 other side.
"Have you any idea how far we've come?" asked Pigasus, rolling over and over
 in the cool grass as Dorothy made a face at the ferryman's back.
"Yes," said Dorothy, dropping full length beside him. "This river is in
 about the center of the Winkie Kingdom, so we are easily half way. We could
 reach the Deadly Desert by night, fly over tomorrow morning, and either go
 North to Ev or stop at the underground castle of the Gnome King. Even if he
 won't lend us his army, he might lend us some magic."
"Speaking of armies, they must have whisked the soldier with the green
 whiskers off with the others. I don't remember seeing him after he left the
 banquet hall, do you? Which just goes to show this Skamperoo must be a
 stranger to Oz, for who else would have been afraid of our precious old
 army? Why, he wouldn't even tread on a caterpillar. By the way, has Kaliko
 any magic that might tell us where to look for our vanished friends and
 rulers?"
"I'm not sure of that," Dorothy told him dubiously, "but he was a wizard,
 and Ruggedo, who was King before Kaliko, had many magic treasures and
 powers. He could make floors and walls spin round and round, open yawning
 caverns at your feet, or drop rocks down on your head without even moving."
"Sounds lovely," sniffed Pigasus, coming to his feet with a short grunt.
 "Say, haven't we trouble enough at home without going to look for it? Do
 you really propose to visit this tricky little metal monarch?"
"But Kaliko is not nearly so bad as Ruggedo." Dorothy sat up and smoothed
 her dress earnestly.
"Well, just as you wish." Pigasus shrugged his wings. "With me, people are
 like eggs, either good or bad. There's no such thing as a nearly good egg;
 it's got to be completely good, or it's just as bad as a bad egg. D'ye see?
 And if this Gnome King is only as good as a nearly fresh egg, I wouldn't
 trust him with my second-best toothbrush. My idea would be to go to the
 ruler of Ev."
"That's Evardo, a boy King. Ozma helped him, too," Dorothy explained
 importantly. "But I tell you, Piggins, let's not decide till we cross the
 Deadly Desert. Something might turn up before then. You never can tell."
"No," agreed the pig, shaking his head sagely. "In Oz, you never can.
 Suppose we continue a ways on foot? My wings are a bit stiff, and we really
 should be on the lookout for a friendly house or castle where we could have
 supper and spend the night. I could eat a peck of spinach or a bushel of
 apples right now, so hop up, my dear, and I'll stretch a leg for the good
 of the coz and Oz!" Chattering away like the good fellow he was, Pigasus
 trotted briskly across the fields and presently came to a deep, rustling
 forest. "Shall we fly over or walk through?" questioned the pig, sniffing
 appreciatively the cool air drifting out to them.
"Let's go through it, in a wood There might be witches, some are good.
A good witch with her magic powers Could solve this mystery of ours!"
"But suppose we meet a bad one," muttered Pigasus, stepping gingerly into
 the forest and picking his way with great care between the giant trees.
"Then we'll say goodbye and simply fly," laughed Dorothy, snapping her
 fingers joyfully.
"Yes, but flying would not be so easy in here," objected Pigasus with a
 troubled glance aloft. "These branches are interlocked so closely I'd stick
 in a tree like a kite."
"Oh, we probably won't meet anyone," said Dorothy. Slipping off his back,
 she walked along beside him, one arm flung cozily around his neck. She was
 rather tired of making verses and thought she could think better if her
 head were not continually buzzing with rhymes. After the hot, sunny
 meadows, the cool shade of the forest was very welcome, but as they
 advanced farther and farther into the shadows, it grew so dark and grim the
 two began to look at each other in real alarm.
"Must be a squall or thundershower brewing," observed Pigasus in a faint
 voice.
"Yes, it couldn't be nighttime so soon," agreed Dorothy, looking fearfully
 over her shoulder. The crackling of twigs as some large animal made its way
 through the brush sounded like gunfire, and while they were trying to make
 up their minds whether to run back or push forward, a long, hollow roar
 sent them skittering forward practically as one. Missing trees by mere
 inches, they pelted at breakneck speed into the dense and even gloomier
 stretch of woodland ahead.
"B-b-b-better climb on my back," directed Pigasus, halting at last from lack
 of breath rather than inclination.
"But where are you? I can't even see you!" wailed Dorothy, feeling about
 wildly.
"Here, here," grunted the frantic pig, making short dashes in four or five
 directions and finally bumping violently into the groping little girl.
Snatching at a wing, Dorothy pulled herself thankfully up and clasped both
 arms round his neck. In a tense and breathless silence they waited for it
 to grow lighter. They could not see even an inch before their noses now,
 and the darkness and silence grew more oppressive and unbearable every
 minute.
"J-j-j-just a cloud passing over," croaked Pigasus, trying to keep his teeth
 from chattering. "J-j-j-jFF20C4 Say, what's that? Dorothy, do you hear
 anything? F-f-footsteps C4 not four, TWO. Someone's coming. Hello, there.
 Who are you? Watch out now, we're here."
"I see you," answered a flat, matter-of-fact voice.
"Oh! He sees us, yet we can't see him, I'm frightened deaf and dumb,
Oh, try to fly, Pigasus, why Oh why'd we ever come?"
"That's what I'd like to know," went on the voice sternly. "Now, then, will
 you come quietly, or must I drag you along?"

CHAPTER 10
THE WITCH OF THE BLACK FOREST
Dorothy and her companion were too stunned to answer, and in two thumping
 steps the owner of the voice was upon them. "Do you dare to defy a member
 of the Invincible Black Watch?" breathed the stranger, grasping Pigasus
 roughly by the right wing.
"No! No! We don't exactly defy you," squealed the pig, flapping his other
 wing frantically, "but how can we follow a blackguard whom we cannot even
 see?"
"Then how do you know I am a blackguard?" demanded their captor
 suspiciously.
"From your voice," screamed Pigasus, jerking this way and that way in an
 effort to free himself. "I'd know you for a blackguard anywhere. Unhand me,
 you surly black monster."
"You talk a lot for a fellow who cannot see," scoffed the Guard, tightening
 his grip on the pig's wing. "Is the girl blind, too?"
"We're not blind at all, and why should we be, In this horrid black forest
 how could we see?" cried Dorothy, her indignation getting the better of her
 fright.
"Well, what color are your eyes?" Dorothy felt the hot breath of the
 Guardsman on her neck as he leaned over to find out for himself. "Blue!" he
 murmured in evident puzzlement. "And the pig's eyes are blue, too. So
 $$that's&& the reason."
"What has the color to do with it?" grunted Pigasus, growing a little calmer
 as the conversation progressed without either of them coming to actual
 harm.
"Everything," explained the Guard impressively. "In the Black Forest one
 must have black eyes to see. See? Even a pig should know that."
"Well, I suppose I could run into a tree and black my eyes," sniffed Pigasus
 bitterly. "But thank you, no. I prefer blue eyes, and now, if you will
 kindly conduct us to the edge of this deep, dark, dangerous and disgusting
 domain, we'll be delighted to go, leave, depart, and bid you farewell
 forever."
"Oh, keep all that for Gloma," drawled the Guard indifferently. "I'm a plain
 man and prefer plain language. Furthermore, no one leaves this forest
 unless they break the black laws. If you break the law, you are cast out
 into the utter and awful light of eternal day. Now then, come along!" and
 giving the pig's wing a cruel tweak, he tramped doggedly forward. Pigasus,
 to save his precious feathers, was obliged to come, suiting his gait to the
 guard's strides.
"The best thing for us to do is to break the law at once," he whispered
 mournfully to Dorothy as he blinked about in a desperate effort to
 penetrate the gloom. Dorothy was too depressed to answer, and after
 clearing his throat several times, the Blackguard began to question
 Pigasus.
"Why the wings?" he asked inquiringly. "I've seen many a farmyard creature
 in my day, but never a pig with wings. Are you a pig or a kind of balcony
 bird? What right has a pig to wings?"
"Let go and I'll show you," puffed Pigasus, hoping the fellow's curiosity
 would cause him to loosen his hold. But the Guard only laughed at such an
 idea.
"Let you go? I should say not," he exclaimed with a little chuckle. "You can
 show all your little tricks to Gloma, and she can decide whether to ride or
 roast you. This girl on your back will make a splendid slave."
"Slave!" shrilled Pigasus, stumbling angrily along in the dark. "I'll have
 you know that she is a Princess of Oz and lives in the palace of Ozma of
 Oz."
"Then why did she not stay there?" observed the Guard reasonably enough.
 "Anyone coming into this forest comes under the rule of Gloma, Witch of the
 Black Forest."
"Witch?" coughed the pig as Dorothy, tightening her clutch on his neck,
 almost choked him.
"Yes, witch," repeated the forester calmly. "Now then, hold up your heads,
 you pale and pinky skins, for you are in for a good blacking." And before
 Pigasus knew just what WAS happening, the ground slipped away from under
 him and he and Dorothy were plunged into the rough, chilly waters of a
 tumbling forest stream. Striking out with all four feet, Pigasus managed to
 breast the flood, when he felt himself and Dorothy being forced completely
 under. As a matter of fact, the Guard swimming beside him had simply put
 his hand on Dorothy's head and pushed her and the squealing pig beneath the
 surface. As they rose, gasping and sputtering, he again seized Pigasus by
 the wing and pulled him quickly to shore.
"There, now you're all right," he boomed heartily as Dorothy rolled off the
 pig's back and began shaking the water from her eyes and hair and wringing
 out her dripping skirts. "Just blot yourselves on the bank!"
"Bl-blot ourselves?" gurgled Pigasus, giving himself a violent shake. "Do
 you take us for letters? You C4 you'll be sorry for this!" But right in
 the middle of his angry sputters, he gave a loud and astonished squall.
 "Dorothy, Dorothy, I can see!" panted the pink pig exultantly.
"So can I," cried Dorothy, running excitedly toward him. "But everything
 looks black. Everything IS black, even you. Oh, Oh! You're perfectly coal
 black, Piggins. Am I black, too?"
"Of course," answered the Guard in a bored voice, "and much better so. Since
 you are black yourselves, you can see in the dark like the rest of us, and
 what do you think of our forest now?" But Dorothy, instead of telling him,
 held up her shiny black hands, touched a few strands of her perfectly black
 hair, and then, dropping her head on the pig's shoulder, began to weep
 bitterly. Like drops of ink, the tears coursed down her ebony cheeks, and
 though Pigasus did what he could to comfort her, she continued to sob as if
 her heart would break.
"Well, I must say I call this ungrateful," the Guard shifted from one foot
 to the other. "What's the matter with you, anyway? Black is a splendid
 color, doesn't show dirt, doesn't fade or streak. Besides, it's against the
 law to be any other color in this forest."
"How dare you blacken us against our will?" burst out Pigasus furiously.
 "Wait till I get loose, I'll C4 Why, I'll tear you to pieces20and pitch
 you into a tar barrel."
"Oh, don't make me snort!" The huge Black Forester stared contemptuously
 down at the winged pig, and now that Pigasus had a better look at him, he
 saw the folly of his threats, for the Black Guard was well over six feet
 and lean and tough as black leather. Evidently feeling he had wasted enough
 time on the pair, he gave them a very black look, and jerking the pig's
 wing roughly, started walking stolidly through the forest. Never had
 Dorothy felt so blue C4 or rather so black and blue C4 so wet, so
 discouraged, so thoroughly miserable! And when, sticking out her tongue to
 see if it was still pink she discovered that it, too, was black, she began
 sobbing softly to herself.
"No one will know us anymore," she decided dejectedly. "We're as badly off
 now as Ozma and the others. Why, oh why, did we ever come into this
 terrible forest?" She could feel Pigasus sniffing with sympathy, and
 suddenly realizing that she was not behaving very well, she straightened
 up. After all, she was still a Princess, even though she was black.
 Princesses did not cry even when they were captured and enchanted. Ozma was
 probably in a worse fix than this, and if Ozma was being brave, she would
 be brave too. So with a great effort, Dorothy stifled her sobs and began to
 look around her. To her surprise and astonishment, she discovered that the
 Black Forest was not dark and gloomy as it had seemed before, but really
 quite beautiful. There were many shades and degrees of blackness in the
 trees and flowers that thickly carpeted the ground.
Black birds twittered musically in the branches overhead, and every now and
 then a deer peered timidly out at her from the woodsy depths between the
 tree trunks. The Guard, glancing over his shoulder and catching her
 interested expression, ventured a smile.
"Why, he is not bad looking at all," thought Dorothy with a pleased start.
 "And maybe this witch may be a good witch C4 her name sounds rather
 pretty." Quite comforted by these reflections, Dorothy whispered a few
 rhymed remarks in the pig's ear. Pigasus, it must be confessed, was as
 interested in what he saw as Dorothy, and when a sudden break between the
 trees revealed a great, black, circular wall with a hundred black flags
 floating from its many turrets, he gave an involuntary grunt of admiration.
"You are about to enter the Royal Circle of Gloma, Witch of the Black
 Forest," announced the Guard, raising his hand solemnly. "I trust you will
 conduct yourselves in a fitting manner."
"Don't worry about OUR manners," shrilled Pigasus, tossing his head airily.
 "We are accustomed to Royalty and move in exclusive circles at home."
"And talk in circles, too," muttered the Guard impatiently. "Well, well, do
 the best you can and bow three times as you approach the throne."
"Throne?" queried Dorothy, slipping off the pig's back so she would not have
 to talk in rhyme, for what she had to say to the black witch was very
 serious indeed. "Is Gloma a Queen?"
"Certainly our witch is a Queen, a bewitching Queen," retorted the Guard,
 taking Dorothy firmly by the hand and tightening his hold on Pigasus. "Now
 then, smile and look pleasant, and perhaps she'll allow you to be her
 slave."
"She wouldn't dare make me a slave," cried Dorothy, trying her best to pull
 away from her captor.
"Just let her try it!" blustered Pigasus, scuffling unwillingly along on the
 other side. But paying no attention to their struggles, the Guard lifted
 his foot and kicked three times on a black ebony door in the wall, and a
 tall Watchman dressed in a black leather suit admitted them to the Royal
 Circle. It was all so different from what Dorothy had been expecting, she
 almost forgot her anger. Enclosed by the black marble wall was a strange
 and enchanting garden. Now Dorothy had never seen a black garden or dreamed
 one could be so beautiful. Here sable willows mirrored their feathery
 branches in long, shining pools; here black plum and cherry trees flaunted
 their fragile black blossoms, and jet-black fountains sent their smoking
 waters high into the quiet air. Vast satiny expanses of lawn were dotted
 with a hundred beds of dusky roses, tulips, velvety pansies and daffodils.
Built all round the circular wall was a low but sumptuous black castle, and
 seated on an ebony throne in the center of her stately black garden was the
 Black Queen herself, looking, Dorothy was thankful to discover, much more
 like a Queen than a witch. Gloma's face was sweet and serious, her hair
 fine and glossy as a raven's wing. She was dressed in a trailing robe black
 chiffon that billowed in lacy clouds round her feet. A sparkling crown of
 jet and long jet earrings were her only ornaments. On each side of the
 Black Queen crouched a sleek black leopard, and behind the ebony throne
 stood ten tall foresters with gleaming axes. "Like headsmen in a medieval
 history book," thought Dorothy as she and Pigasus were dragged rapidly
 forward. Gloma, gazing dreamily into a black crystal set on a marble stand
 before the throne, seemed entirely unaware of their presence till the harsh
 voice of the Black Guard announced them.
"Hail! Black and Imperial Majesty!" called the Guard deferentially,
 approaching the throne. "Two prisoners, a pig and a Princess, whom I found
 wandering unlawfully in our forest and whom I took the liberty of
 blacking."
Dorothy, jerking away from the Guard, was about to explain how she and
 Pigasus had lost their way when Gloma jumped to her feet with a sharp,
 agonized scream. "Blotz, General Blotz, what have you done?" panted the
 Black Queen, beating her hands wildly together. "Your stupidity has ruined
 us all! You have blackened and insulted my most dangerous and mortal enemy!
 Leave! Go! Begone and never darken my doors again! Oh why, why did you do
 it? Why have you brought her here? After all these years must I too be
 destroyed and obliterated?" Sinking back on her throne, Gloma covered her
 face with her hair and began rocking backward and forward in agitation and
 sorrow.
"Why, why C4 I believe she's afraid of you!" puffed Pigasus, twitching his
 tail with excitement and interest as General Blotz, looking quite dazed,
 began to move unhappily toward the gate in the wall.
"Quick!" he grunted as the ten foresters back of the throne rushed forward
 to surround them. "Do something, Dorothy, while she is still afraid of you.
 Make her unblacken us. Tell her to set us free. Hurry! Hurry, before she
 discovers you are only a harmless little girl." But Dorothy, only half
 listening to the pig, boldly thrust aside the foresters and ran over to the
 Black Queen.
"Why are you afraid of ME?" asked Dorothy, speaking rapidly but distinctly.
 "I did not come here on purpose. Pigasus and I are lost and need your
 help."
"Help?" shivered Gloma, shrinking as far away from Dorothy as possible. "Why
 should I help you? Are you not Dorothy, the mortal girl who destroyed the
 powerful Witches of the East and West?"
"But that was long ago," explained Dorothy breathlessly as two of the
 Queen's henchmen seized her roughly by the arms. "And they were bad and
 wicked witches. Why should I wish to destroy such a good and beautiful
 witch like you?"
"Do not listen to her. Do not let her touch you. She means to destroy and
 ensnare you," hissed the foresters as they dragged Dorothy away from the
 throne. "Down with all mortals! Away to the dungeons with her! Wing that
 pig! Chop off their heads!" At these loud, savage cries, startled faces
 appeared at the windows of the black palace, and struggling in the midst of
 the foresters Dorothy heartily wished she had taken the pig's advice.
"Shall we take