L. Frank Baum - Oz 40

by Merry Go Round In Oz

  “Now. That’s everything, I think,” Ozma said at last, and began counting off items on her fingers. “Refreshments, invitations, favors, games, prizes, baskets.”

  “Excuse me, my dear,” the Wizard chuckled. “I believe you forgotten a pretty important item.”

  “What’s that, old boy?” the Cowardly Lion rumbled, lazily’ turning his massive head.

  “The eggs,” said the Wizard.

  “Oh, my goodness!” cried Ozma. “A fine Egg Hunt it would have been without any eggs!”

  Scraps, who could never stay still for long, flung herself recklessly out of a tree she had been climbing, caught hold of a branch at the last moment, and dangled there by one hand, chanting:

  “A legless table without the legs

  Is just what you’d egg-spect,

  But an Easter Egg Hunt without the eggs

  Is not egg-zactly c’rect!”

  With a whoop of laughter she released her hold, falling with a soft, raggy plump on the head of the Cowardly Lion, who sighed, but good-naturedly let it go.

  “Why, there’ll have to be hundreds of eggs!” Dorothy said in some awe. “How could we forget them? And where are we going to get hold of so many before next Sunday?”

  “Well, don’t look at me!” the Yellow Hen retorted.

  The Cowardly Lion’s eyes immediately slid in her direction. “You’re the only one around here who lays eggs.”

  “Very true, but I cannot possibly lay hundreds of eggs in a week-much less boil them and dye them before the party!”

  “Oh, Billina, he’s only teasing you,” Ozma said with a laugh.

  “Nobody expects you to furnish all those eggs!”

  “Anyway,” Dorothy said, “I don’t think they should be just common eggs.

  “Well! I’m sure I don’t know what you mean by ‘common’!” Billina began huffily, but Dorothy interrupted her.

  “You do too, so don’t pretend to be offended! I mean they should be real Easter Eggs. Don’t you think so, Ozma?”

  “I do,” said the little fairy firmly.

  “Then,” the Cowardly Lion said with a yawn, “why not order them from the Easter Bunny?”

  He had made the suggestion in fun, but to his surprise it turned out to be perfectly practical. Ozma gave a little jump, clapped her hands, and said, “Why, yes! That’s exactly what we’ll do!”

  “You mean we’ve got an Easter Bunny right here in Oz?” said the Lion, sitting up and blinking his yellow eyes.

  “The Easter Bunny!” Ozma corrected him. “Where else would he live? He’s one of my most interesting subjects!” Since this was news to everybody, she went on to explain that the Easter Bunny ruled over a tidy and busy kingdom of bunnies somewhere in the Munchkin country-or rather, beneath it, since his domain was mostly underground. “So I understand,” she added. “I’ve never seen it-though I’ve often thought I’d like to.”

  “So would I!” Dorothy exclaimed. “I’ll tell you what, Ozma, if you don’t mind, I will go see it, and order our eggs while I’m there. I don’t have a thing to do this afternoon-I can start right

  now.

  “Hold on-hold on!” the Cowardly Lion growled. “Where is this place? How far is it? Don’t be so sudden! I don’t care for the idea of your dashing all over the countryside by yourself!”

  “Then come with me!” Dorothy laughed, and ran over to throw her arms around his great, maned neck. “Can we look in your Magic Picture, Ozma, and see which road to take?”

  “I’ve a better idea,” said the little fairy. “Scraps dear, would you mind fetching my Magic Belt from my bedroom?”

  “Magic Belt!” gulped the Lion.

  As the irrepressible Scraps cartwheeled wildly off across the lawn, yelling “Magic Belt! Bagic Melt! Agic-may Elt-bay!” Dorothy exclaimed, “Oh, that’s a fine idea, Ozma! The Magic Belt will get us there in a jiffy.”

  “I don’t like jiffies! Couldn’t we just walk?” the Lion begged. “Better not,” Ozma said. “Several hundred eggs is a lot of eggs -we’ll be wise to order them right away. On your way home you can take your time, though-it’ll be a nice little vacation for you. Just be sure to get back by Easter! Now-what colors do you think our eggs should be?”

  This brought forth suggestions from everyone but the Lion, who was too busy worrying about his coming journey by Magic Belt to pay much attention to the conversation. He had had considerable experience-most of it in spite of himself-with such odd modes of travel as wishing pills, Flyabout Bus, and whirling mountains, and had a low opinion of them all. So while the others

  thrashed out the last details of the Easter Egg order, he sat yawning with nervousness, growling fiercely under his breath, and trying without any success at all to control his cowardice. By the time Scraps burst out of a nearby tily bush, yelling “Boo!” and waving the Magic Belt, he was so upset he roared.

  “What’s the matter, can’t you take a joke?” demanded Scraps as she handed the belt to Ozma and danced over to tweak his ear.

  “This is no joking matter,” the Lion said miserably.

  “Really, it doesn’t hurt a hit,” Dorothy assured him. She kissed Ozma goodbye, then climbed quickly onto his back, took a firm hold on his mane, and announced that they were ready.

  “Speak for yourself,” muttered the Lion, but he braced himself and shut his eyes tight.

  Ozma buckled on the Magic Belt, clasped both hands to it-and the next instant, Dorothy and the Lion were no longer in the garden.

  *

  “OUCH!” roared the Cowardly Lion.

  He opened his eyes, blinked through a rapidly clearing haze of opalescent smoke, and found himself sprawled in the middle of a bramble patch, his chin squashed flat against a mat of briars and his gaze fixed on a large rabbit-hole directly in front of him. His paws hurt, his elbows hurt, thorns were sticking into his nose, and something wriggly was weighing down his head.

  “Dorothy? Where are you?” he quavered.

  “Here I am,” said the wriggly thing. “I’m sorry-I got sort of jounced around, I guess, and I’m trying to get off you, but there’s so many stickers in this place! There, thank goodness. Is that

  better?”

  Relieved of the weight, the Cowardly Lion struggled to a sitting position, sighed, and tried to lick a large thorn out of his left front paw. “Doesn’t hurt a bit, she says,” he muttered under his breath.

  “Well, the wishing part didn’t hurt,” Dorothy pointed out as she scrambled around him-with a good deal of difficulty-and carefully removed the thorn for him. “I’ll admit the landing is sometimes kind of inconvenient, but if this is the entrance to the Easter Bunny’s kingdom, you can’t blame the Magic Belt for putting us here. I suppose that rabbit-hole is the entrance?”

  “I suppose so”’ said the Lion, looking at it without enthusiasm. “At least it isn’t brambly. Come on, you’d better follow me-provided I can squeeze through.”

  Once he had wriggled past the tube-like entrance-removing a few bits of hide from his anatomy in the process-there was a bit more room; however, they were now in total darkness. Cautiously they groped their way forward, along what seemed to be a rough winding passage sloping steeply downward.

  “I hope there aren’t any old abandoned wells around here,” the Lion muttered, adding “Oof!” as he bumped into the wall at one of the many curves. “Just what we need right now-to fall

  into an old abandoned well and never be heard of again.”

  He sounded so gloomy that Dorothy giggled. “Silly. The bunnies must use this passage all the time. I believe it’s getting roomier,” she said a minute later. “And isn’t it a little bit less

  black?”

  The darkness was, indeed, becoming mere dimness; this lightened, as the passage twisted ever deeper and deeper into the earth, until a soft, pervasive, pleasant glow illuminated the rocky walls and roof. For a while the glow was blue, then gradually it changed to green, to ruby-red, to amber, amethyst, and pink. As these different col
ors shifted and played about them, the passage broadened into a spacious, level tunnel.

  “Why, it’s perfectly beautiful!” Dorothy said softly, and the Lion, too, blinked with pleasure as he padded along. Scurrying bunnies began to appear now, popping in and out of the branching passages, bent under the great loads of artificial grass or festooned with strings of painted baskets. All of them wore bright-colored oval badges lettered “Dye-Mixer,” “Dipper,” “Runner,” “Grass Dept.” and the like, and all seemed to be in a frantic hurry. As the light brightened, the traffic increased, and presently the travelers emerged from the tunnel into a vast, high-vaulted cave.

  “My goodness!” Dorothy exclaimed, as they halted to look around them with lively interest.

  The cave was brilliant with the jewel-like play of light, and seething with activity. Bunnies were everywhere-watering plots

  of artificial grass, weaving and painting baskets, or carving blocks of chocolate into figures of rabbits or baby chicks. Some, in dye-splashed aprons, were stirring great cauldrons which steamed over little fires in rocky alcoves along one wall; the steam was varicolored, like the light. Others were loading handcarts with fresh-dyed eggs and trundling them away.

  In the center of all, on a high basketwork throne, sat a personage who could be no other than the Easter Bunny himself. He was nearly as tall as Dorothy, not counting his long, alertly twitching ears. He wore a lavender waistcoat, a monocle on a purple ribbon, and a golden crown, and was altogether a splendid figure as he looked about him with watchful pink eves and twinkling whiskers, directing his busy kingdom.

  He spotted his visitors at once, and flung his monocle to his eye to watch their approach. “Well, well, well!” he cried genially as they reached the foot of his throne. “How d’ye do, I’m sure! Who are you, my dear? Er-I trust your lion is quite tame?”

  “Oh, yes, your majesty,” Dorothy assured him. “In fact, he’s civilized. He’s the Cowardly Lion, and I’m Dorothy, and we’ve come-”

  “Not the Cowardly Lion? Not Princess Dorothy, of the Emerald City?” exclaimed the Easter Bunny, nearly falling off his throne in his haste to clamber down. “Why, a thousand welcomes! I can’t tell you how honored I am. Well! Of all people!-and lions! What brings you here?”

  “Magic Belt,” said the Cowardly Lion, shuddering at the

  memory.

  “Ozma sent us,” Dorothy said, and explained their errand. “I hope your bunnies aren’t too busy?” she finished anxiously.

  “Never!” declared the Easter Bunny. He laid a paw on his lavender waistcoat and eyed her earnestly. “On the contrary, it gives me great joy to be able to render some slight service to the radiant Princess Ozma, whose loyal subject I am proud to be! Here, Jumper, come take this little lady’s order, quickly!”

  With one bound, a bunny carrying a notebook and wearing a badge that said “Sales Dept.” was at Dorothy’s side, pencil poised and whiskers twitching.

  “Now, I call that efficient,” the Lion rumbled as Dorothy placed their order.

  “Oh, we’re all very efficient around here. We have to be,” the Easter Bunny told him. “Our production volume is almost as big as Santa Claus’s, you know. By the way, I do hope you have time for a cup of carrot tea and some jellybeans before you leave? Here, Knocker-hustle a tea-tray along to my office, will you?”

  The Cowardly Lion felt a great lack of enthusiasm for these particular refreshments, but could think of no way to avoid them, so when Knocker and Jumper had both bounded efficiently away, he followed Dorothy and the Easter Bunny across the cave to a large alcove. It was glassed in with panes of clear sugar, and furnished with basketwork chairs and a large executive desk beautifully carved of chocolate.

  “There-sit down, sit down, make yourselves at home. Ah, here’s the tea-tray!” said the Easter Bunny.

  Resigning himself to his fate, the Lion worried down a couple ofjellybeans and sipped nauseatedly at the carrot brew while the Easter Bunny plied Dorothy with respectful questions about Princess Ozma, and confided that it was his greatest ambition to visit the Emerald City someday to offer his fealty in person.

  “Meanwhile,” he added earnestly, “perhaps you wouldn’t mind carrying back a gift for the Princess, as a small token of my esteem.” He sat back, twirling his monocle on its ribbon. “Now, let me see-what could I send her?”

  “Some of this excellent carrot tea, perhaps,” said the Cowardly Lion jovially. He had managed to empty his into a potted plant, and was feeling quite secure.

  “Oh, do let me fill your cup!” exclaimed the Bunny, hospitably refilling all the cups to the brim. “No, I want my gift to be far more interesting than mere tea. Ah! I know the very thing!”

  Bounding to the door of his office, he summoned a runner. “Fetch me the Great Egg from the Treasury,” he ordered, adding in an undertone, “Better dust it before you bring it along.” Turning back to his guests with an embarrassed smile, he explained, “The Great Egg is quite a valuable antique by now, and like all antiques, tends to need a bit of upkeep, which in a busy place like my kingdom it doesn’t always get. It was designed and created by the Chief Artist of Bunnyland many years ago, during my grandfather’s reign, and won a kingdom-wide contest for the

  most unusual egg. Indeed, I believe you’ll find you’ve never seen anything like it.”

  “I’ve never even seen anything like this tea,” the Cowardly Lion said through his teeth.

  A few minutes later the runner appeared outside the sugar-glass walls of the office, trundling a handcart in which the Great Egg was balanced carefully on a pillow of woven grass. Though still slightly dusty in spots, it really was quite magnificent. as they discovered when they went out to inspect it (the Lion casually dumping his tea into a vase on the way). It was about as big as Dorothy’s head, was made of sparkling crystallized sugar, and was not only lavishly decorated but encircled by a band of beaten gold. At one end was a peephole, covered by a round pane of the clear sugar-glass and surrounded by stiff candy flowers. Anyone looking through the peephole saw the Great Cave of Bunnyland in lifelike miniature-and what was more astonishing, in action. Dorothy and the Lion could even see themselves peeping into the Egg, with the Easter Bunny standing beside them, the workers busy at their tasks around them, and the colored lights playing over all.

  “Ozma will love this!” Dorothy exclaimed, though privately she was wondering how they would ever get such a fragile object home safely. But the Easter Bunny had thought of everything. Clapping his monocle to his eye, he hopped away, returning with a basket that just fitted the Great Egg, and followed by a little

  boy bunny who was to guide them out of the kingdom.

  After thanking him warmly and promising to bring Ozma to visit him sometime, Dorothy and the Lion crossed the Cave once more and started back along the tunnel. Their little guide went with them to the point at which the colored lights began to dim, then shyly pointed toward a smaller passage and hurried back to his tasks.

  “Is this the way we came?” said the Lion as they started uncertainly along the passage.

  “It must be,” Dorothy told him. “Though it doesn’t exactly look familiar. Oh, ouch! I bumped my head!”

  “Roof’s getting lower. Watch out, we’re coming to another zig. Or maybe it’s a zag.”

  The passage was, in fact, a constant succession of zigs and zags, and it grew darker, narrower and lower all the time. Dorothy had great difficulty managing the basket, as she crept along bent almost double, trying to avoid the frequent rocks that protruded from the rough walls. Before long, she and the Lion were both bruised and scraped in a dozen places, as well as breathless.

  “Let’s rest a minute!” Dorothy gasped finally, groping for her big friend and leaning against him in the dark. “I can’t believe this is the same passage we used before. It’s much longer and rougher. Do you suppose that little boy bunny didn’t know the

  way?”

  “Either that, or we’ve zigged somewhere when we should have za
gged,” the Lion panted.

  However, they crept on a few steps, edged their way around another of the innumerable bends, and suddenly felt the ground underfoot sloping steeply upward. At the same time, the passage narrowed into a mere burrow, and they could see a circle of dim green light ahead.

  “At last! That must be the rabbit-hole!” Dorothy said in relief. “Now, if I can just get the basket through this last bit without smashing the Egg. .

  A moment later they had squeezed through the hole and emerged once more into the outside world-but not into the bram-blebush they remembered. Instead, they found themselves standing in a patch of very tall, waving grasses at the foot of a gray stone wall, which was so high it seemed to have no top, and curved away in front of them without a gate or door of any kind.

  “So it wasn’t the same passage!” Dorothy said, looking curiously at the wall. “Now, where do you suppose we are? And what’s on the other side of that, I wonder?”

  “Let’s not find out,” growled the Lion, lashing his tail uneasily. The wall looked too grim and bleak for his taste. “Come on, if we just keep walking we’re bound to come to a road soon.”

  Sore, disheveled, smudged, and glad to be finished with tunnels, they started along the foot of the wall, following its curve. They had not gone a dozen steps before they were startled by a tremendous clatter and clanging and banging which suddenly broke out somewhere ahead and above them. It grew louder and

  louder, rose to a deafening climax, and was followed by a very complicated crash, a few final clangs, then total silence. Exchanging an astonished glance, they ran hastily farther around the wall’s curve.

  Next instant, a piercing neigh and a confusion of loud, insulting yelling made the Lion flatten his ear’s against his head. Quivering with fright and indignation, he gave a tremendous roar. At the same time, Dorothy screamed, dropped the basket, Egg and all, and began wildly beating at the air, ducking and dodging as she shrieked, “Help! Help! A bat! Go ‘way! Go ‘way!”