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Lost King of Oz

<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/illusch20.jpg" alt=""/></div> <h2>CHAPTER 20</h2> The Lost King Is Found <hr class="chap" /> The Wizard of Oz was puzzled and mortified. His magic seemed to be no magic at all. The little man was silent. He could think of nothing but his failure. "Let's all sit down in a circle and think," proposed the Scarecrow, taking Ozma's hand, for he could see the little fairy was ready to cry with disappointment. "The goose feather said the King was in the castle, so he must be here," he insisted cheerfully. "Let Dorothy tell her story and we'll tell ours and then perhaps we can find out what's wrong with our magic." "Now you're talking sense," approved Scraps, plumping down beside the straw man. "Have Dorothy explain this old goose, this button-button-who's-got-the-button boy and the fellow with the fluttering ears." "I guess that would be best," sighed Dorothy. So in less than a wink that whole strange company, with Humpy in the center, dropped down in a circle upon the floor. Kabumpo, holding Mombi fast in his trunk, stood just behind Dorothy, putting in a word now and then or giving Mombi a shake when she objected to any part of the story. Ozma and her friends could scarcely repress their astonishment and surprise as Dorothy recounted her wonderful adventures with the dummy and told of Snip's exciting journey with the goose and the old witch. Indeed, as the story proceeded, they began to regard Snip and Pajuka with growing admiration and respect, for certainly these two had played an unforgettable part in the history of Oz. When Dorothy told how Snip had raised the castle with Mombi's baking powder, the company burst into such loud cheers and cries of approval that the little button boy tried to hide behind the tailor. Tora, himself, came in for a goodly share of the interest too, and he smiled pleasantly as Dorothy explained his singular ears and described his escape from the Blanks. When Dorothy had finished, Ozma quickly related all that had happened in the Emerald City and in Morrow. She told of the deserted castle and the mysterious messages, and the Scarecrow gravely passed around the golden quill. "I seem to remember this," puffed Pajuka when it had come to him. "Ah, I know! It is the magic quill the King gave me on my last birthday in the castle. It always warned one or the other when either was in danger and I had it in my pocket when Mombi turned me to a goose." "And I pulled it out when I fell down the well!" cried Snip excitedly. "And it returned to the spot where the old castle had stood," put in the Wizard, leaning forward sagely. "Well, that explains the feather, but who will explain the King?" demanded the Scarecrow, looking at the dummy with his head on one side. "I'm about tired of being explained," mumbled Humpy sulkily. "If you don't pretty soon decide something, I'll go back to America. I've fallen and I've risen and now I want to sit still." "Perhaps," suggested the tired tailor timidly, for he felt shy in the presence of so many celebrities, "perhaps Humpy is not the lost King at all! The feather said the King was in the palace, but it did not say the dummy was King." "Bless me," cried the Scarecrow tossing up his hat, "his brain works as fast as his ears. That is an idea!" It had not occurred to any of them that Humpy might not be the King, but now they began to look at one another questioningly. "But he's the image of Pastoria!" insisted Pajuka. "Don't you suppose I know my own sovereign? Ozma my dear, is this dummy not like your father?" Ozma nodded: "But it wouldn't do any harm to look around," she added thoughtfully. "Come on," cried the Scarecrow waving his hat, "we'll hunt from cellar to garret!" "Keep a trunk on that witch!" called Scraps to the Elegant Elephant, as they all jumped up and started to follow the Scarecrow from the room. "But wait!" exclaimed the tired tailor, catching hold of the straw man's arm. "How do you know you are not the King yourself?" "Me the King!" ejaculated the Scarecrow falling back against a pillar. <hr class="chap" /> <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/illus1ch20.jpg" alt=""/></div> <hr class="chap" /> "Well, Mombi could easily have changed you to a Scarecrow," mused Tora, but Dorothy hastily shook her head, for the Scarecrow's past was well known and though he had been proved an Emperor of Silver Island, she felt he could not be the lost King of Oz. "Well, somebody in this castle is King," insisted Tora positively. "But how shall we know?" gasped Dorothy, while the others looked equally puzzled. "Find the man who fits the King's robe," cried Tora, waving his tape measure. "Try him," he finished, indicating Sir Hokus of Pokes. "How did you ever think of that?" asked the Wizard admiringly. "Find the man who fits the robe! Why it's as simple as arithmetic. But how did you ever think of it?" "Well, being a tailor, it occurred to me at once," answered Tora modestly. "The robe fits the dummy perfectly, so I thought at first he must be the King, but when the magic failed to work I concluded that he wasn't." Mombi sniffed scornfully as the Knight stepped forward but Dorothy and Ozma, remembering Sir Hokus's strange history, felt that he might easily be the lost King of Oz. Again all but seven left the throne room, and the tailor placed the King's robes carefully about the Knight's shoulders. Then The Wizard, taking two more crackers, gravely repeated the magic formula. Ozma kept her eyes fixed intently on Sir Hokus. She rather hoped he would turn out to be her father, for she was very fond of the blustery Knight. But nothing at all happened after the Wizard's incantation and Sir Hokus stepped down from the throne with real relief. "Odds buckles and bonnets, my dear, I would like to be your father but not your King," sighed the Knight. "I prefer fighting to governing any day." The Wizard cast his eye about for another candidate of proper size and shape to fit the robe, but no one in the room seemed to qualify. "You're wasting time," grunted Kabumpo irritably. "This person," he waved loftily at the old tailor, "this person had better have kept out of it. What does a tailor know of magic?" Dorothy looked reprovingly at the Elegant Elephant and just then, catching a glimpse of the Soldier with the Green Whiskers in the doorway, rushed over and pulled him into the room. The Soldier with the Green Whiskers is the entire army of Oz and, while not noted for his bravery, is a great favorite in the Emerald City. Ever since the disappearance of Ozma, he had been hiding in the castle cellar, terribly frightened by its fall and rise. Finally he had screwed up enough courage to venture forth and investigate. Too astonished to move, he had listened to the proceedings in the throne room and watched the Wizard's magic experiments. "Try him!" puffed Dorothy, hurrying him toward the throne. As the tailor carefully adjusted the robe, everyone gasped at the fit and becomingness of the green garment. It quite transformed the timid old soldier and, complacently stroking his beard, he waited for the Wizard's formula to take effect. But again, nothing at all happened and, dashing the green book of magic into a corner, the Wizard rushed out of the room. At last he had had an idea of his own. He would look in the magic picture and discover at once who was the missing King. Meanwhile Tora, looking very apologetic, had taken the cloak from the grand army's shoulders. "I was wrong," sighed the tailor shaking his head sorrowfully, "and now there is no one else to try." Everyone joined in the tailor's sigh, for the afternoon had lengthened into evening and they were still as far as ever from solving the mystery. At each disappointment Pajuka had grown more gloomy and now, waddling up to Mombi, he cried angrily, "Woman, what have you done with the king? Speak! Speak, or I'll peck off your nose!" "Yes, say something!" shrilled Kabumpo, shaking her violently. "I remember nothing! I remember nothing! Let me go!" wailed the old witch, howling dismally. Mombi's screams, Pajuka's threats and Kabumpo's trumpeting almost drowned out another voice that had risen triumphantly above the confusion. It was Snip. Jumping to his feet and running across the room, the little button boy flung his arms 'round the old tailor. "You never tried it on yourself! You never tried it on yourself!" panted Snip, trembling with impatience. "Here, give it to me!" While Kabumpo sniffed and the others watched half heartedly, the little boy wrapped the King's robe around the tired tailor, popped two sugar lumps into his mouth and shouted hoarsely, "Two ought to be eaten before seven! I command you to resume your natural shape!" For as long as you could count ten there was absolute silence. Then a deep voice, very rough and husky, called wildly, "The King! Long live the King!" "Pajuka!" cried the tired tailor. Rushing joyously down the steps of the throne, he threw both arms 'round a fat, jolly old gentleman. The tired tailor, did I say? But no! He was the tired tailor no longer! The rounded shoulders had straightened up under the velvet robe, the tired eyes sparkled with pleasure and kindliness. Tora, the tailor, no longer, but Pastoria, the King, stood embracing his prime minister, for the same green formula that had restored his majesty had also released Pajuka from his weary enchantment. "I remember! I remember! I turned him to a tailor and flung him down a well!" squealed Mombi, but in the excitement no one even heard her. The suddenness of the King's restoration had taken even Snip by surprise, but recovering quickly they all pressed forward. Humpy was the first to reach the throne. "Glad you got the job," grinned the dummy cheerfully. "But let me be your double, old fellow. I'll fall or die for you any time." Making his word good at once, Humpy tripped over the King's foot and fell flat upon his nose. "Why he is your double," gasped Dorothy eagerly. "The very image of you." "King, King, double King, never get him back again!" screamed the Patch Work Girl, and from then on the uproar was tremendous. The courtiers and servants, back from the long day's search, came crowding into the throne room, and when they heard the whole story from the Soldier with the Green Whiskers they added their voices to the general clamor. "Why the names should have told us," whispered Dorothy to Snip, whom she had dragged into a corner for the confidence. "Tora the tailor and Pastoria, the King. How did we ever miss it?" Snip shook his head and looked over contentedly at his two best friends. It seemed as if Ozma and her father would never stop hugging one another but at last, with his little daughter on his right and faithful Pajuka on his left, with Humpy standing importantly behind him and Snip in his lap, the King sat down upon his throne and insisted upon hearing all that had happened during his weary exile—for the years he had been in Blankenburg had been blank indeed. Taking turns, Dorothy, Trot and Ozma did their best to satisfy him. Then Pastoria, himself, told how Lurline, Queen of the Fairy Band, had come to his shop, tried to disenchant him and when she found Mombi's magic too strong for her, had bestowed upon him his remarkable flying ears. "I'm going to miss those ears," sighed the King, touching his tight-on ones regretfully, "but it's fine to be back just the same and to find my own dear little girl again!" "There are still two things I don't understand," mused Dorothy, as Pastoria finished speaking. "Why did I change size in California, and how was it you could not get away from Blankenburg till Snip helped you?" "Both very easy to account for," explained the Wizard of Oz, who was glad to have some part in clearing up the mysteries. "If you had lived in America as long as you have lived in Oz, you would be quite a young lady by now, so of course, when you reached California, you resumed your proper age." "Then I'm never going back," decided Dorothy, recalling her strange experience with a shudder, "for I'm never going to grow up at all." "The King was released by Snip," continued the Wizard, paying no attention to Dorothy's remarks, "because kindness and generosity always dull green magic, and, while Snip could not entirely restore the King, he broke part of the enchantment." There was still so much to wonder and exclaim about and they were all by this time so famished with hunger that Ozma ordered up a splendid feast and in all the annals of Oz there has never been a more delightful nor a merrier one. The King and Ozma sat at the head of the long table, Snip and Pajuka at the foot, while ranged between were all of the adventurers and all the dear celebrities of Oz. Mombi had been securely locked up in the cellar with a supper of bread and milk and Kabumpo, free from his troublesome charge, had three bales of hay, nicely mixed with peanuts. Snip, looking sideways at Pajuka, marvelled to think how he had once carried the huge Prime Minister through the forest. There was still something in Pajuka's walk and expression that reminded Snip of the white goose, for all during the evening he was at some pains to conceal his yawns. Well, with one dainty coming after the other, and one story following the next, the dinner proceeded gaily enough, till no one, not even the Hungry Tiger, could eat another bite. And then it was that Pastoria rose and, turning to Ozma, furnished the last surprise of that exceedingly surprising day. "I am rejoiced," began the King in his deep, pleasant voice, "to find this beautiful castle and city, built during my absence by our clever Wizard, and to see that the prosperity and greatness of Oz have increased during my exile. Feeling that this is largely due to the wise rule of my lovely little daughter, I now and hereby abdicate in her favor!" <hr class="chap" /> <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/illus2ch20.jpg" alt=""/></div> <hr class="chap" /> Removing the emerald crown the Scarecrow had hastily brought from the treasury, the King placed it solemnly on Ozma's dark curls. "But you're not going away!" cried Ozma, catching hold of his arm in great distress. "Has your Majesty considered this enough?" protested Pajuka, jumping up in a hurry. "What are you—what are we—going to do?" "Open a tailor shop," smiled the King, "right here in the Emerald City—the finest tailoring shop in Oz. You see," continued his Majesty, looking a trifle embarrassed, "I've grown awfully fond of tailoring and I think on the whole I'm a better tailor than a King!" There was a moment's silence after this singular announcement. Then, realizing the generosity and wisdom of the decision, the whole company burst into thunderous applause. "Then everything will be the same. Oh, goody goody!" exulted Betsy Bobbin, squeezing Trot's hand under the table. "Isn't he a perfect dear?" "Instead of a King's double, I'm a tailor's dummy," sighed Humpy resignedly. "Oh well, I don't care, but you'll have to make me another suit." "I'll make you a tailored suit. I'll make you all suits," promised the King enthusiastically. "Put plenty of pockets in mine!" puffed Pajuka, sinking into his seat with another yawn. "I'll need a boy in my shop, too," smiled the King, looking down the long table. "How about it, Snip? Will you stay?" "A good place for a button boy," giggled Scraps, while Snip himself blushed with pleasure and excitement. "Oh, I'd love to!" cried Snip. "But may I go back to Kimbaloo first and tell Kinda Jolly where I am?" "Of course, of course," promised the royal tailor, beaming upon everyone. "And now, as we are all tired and sleepy (the King winked at Pajuka who was trying to hide another monstrous yawn) I move that we all retire." "That will be the second time you've retired to-day," laughed Snip, pushing back his chair and running to open the door for his Majesty. For in spite of his abdication they all felt that Pastoria was a real King. "Oh, isn't everything turning out splendidly?" sighed Dorothy, pressing the Scarecrow's arm. "The King will be a lot happier as a tailor and every tailor needs a dummy, so that takes care of Humpy. And won't it be fun to have Snip in the Emerald City?" "I should say!" grinned the Scarecrow, and then, because nobody could stay awake another minute, they bade each other good night and hurried off to bed. Snip and the Prime Minister shared a sumptuous apartment in the east wing and, hearing a strange noise in the night, Snip sat up in alarm. Pajuka's bed was empty, but standing on one leg over by the window and snoring like a goodfellow (which indeed he was) stood the huge Prime Minister, his head resting peacefully on his shoulder. "He thinks he's still a goose," smiled Snip, snuggling down under the covers. <hr class="chap" /> <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/illus3ch20.jpg" alt=""/></div> <hr class="chap" /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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