The Last of the Really Great Whangdoodles

by Julie Andrews Edwards

  They found him seated on a high stool, his head in his hands. Sheets of paper were scattered all over the floor. A wastepaper bin was full to overflowing. The blackboard was covered with formulas.

  Lindy touched the professor's arm. "Everything all right?" she whispered.

  "Mm? Oh, my dears. I'd quite forgotten about you." He seemed very distracted and rubbed his eyes wearily. "I just don't seem to be able to get anywhere," he sighed. "It will take a miracle."

  "It's a miracle that we're here," Tom reminded him.

  "Yes. Remember what you said about that," added Ben. "You said that miracles only happen after a lot of endeavor. A mind has to be ready and open before a miracle can happen."

  "But that's just it," the professor replied desperately. "That's the problem. Right now my mind isn't open. I've been sitting here, thinking so hard. I realize now why I was unable to cross the bridge—why I couldn't see it. I was torn between two worlds. I was preoccupied with my forthcoming journey to Washington, and I was worried about finishing my paper. I always worry if my work is not completed. So the real world was fighting with the world of my imagination. My concentration was hopelessly ruined."

  "Well, if you realize all that, can't you make it right?" Ben said simply.

  The professor was annoyed. "Do you have any idea of the magnitude of this miracle you're asking for? I couldn't see the bridge, yet you're asking me to make a Whangdoodle."

  "I know what you need," Lindy said in her practical voice. "You need a scrappy cap."

  "That's it!" cried Tom. "It would help you to concentrate."

  "Great idea. Come on . . . we'll go and ask the Prock about it," said Ben.

  They rushed towards the door. "No, children, wait . . ." the professor called after them. But they had gone.

  A short time later the Prock arrived. He placed Lindy's bonnet on the workbench. "Having a few problems?"

  "A few! That's a masterpiece .of understatement."

  "Well, try the bonnet. It might work."

  "Oh, come on, my good fellow." The professor looked impatient. "You know as well as I do that those hats mean nothing. They're not magic at all."

  "They're not?"

  "Of course not. They are just a device . . . something for the children to believe in . . . to help them bridge the gap."

  The Prock gave a small smile. "Well, they obviously work very well for them. I wouldn't underestimate those hats if I were you."

  "I don't follow."

  "It's quite simple. You say the hats are not magic, yet the fact is that without them the children would never have believed enough to get to Whangdoodleland. As you pointed out, by wearing the hats they were able to bridge the gap. Obviously you're having a lot of problems right now. You're trying to bridge a gap too. It would seem to me that Miss Lindy has a sensible idea. Try the hat. What have you got to lose?"

  The professor banged his fist on the table. "But I'm telling you, the hats are just a contrivance. There's nothing special about them."

  "If you say so." The Prock was irritatingly calm. He eased himself to the door with his long, gliding walk. "See you later."

  "Prock! What if this experiment is a failure? Supposing I don't succeed?"

  The Prock opened the door. "I suggest we wait and see how you get on."

  "If I don't make another Whangdoodle, you're not going to give us the hats, are you? You intend to keep us here. You're not going to let us go at all."

  "But how can I possibly keep you here?" the Prock replied, innocently. "You just said that the hats mean nothing. I couldn't stop you from leaving."

  "Yes, but . . . you know the children believe . . ."

  "Right now, the children are having a grand time and couldn't care less about going home. I suggest you stop worrying about them and concentrate on making a Whangdoodle for His Majesty. Plenty of time later to talk of going home." He quietly left the room.

  The professor stared after him and thought for the umpteenth time that the Prock was a maddening fellow. He sighed deeply and looked at Lindy's hat on the workbench.

  He picked it up and turned it over in his hands. In the olden days, people really believed that magic emanated from the hat. They believed in the hat just as much as they believed in the Whangdoodle. Ben and Tom and Lindy certainly believed that the hats were the reason for their success. Was it possible? Could he have underestimated the scrappy caps? Were they magic, after all?

  The professor considered the possibility and, very slowly, put the bonnet on his head and tied the ribbons beneath his chin. He sat still and waited.

  There was an uncanny light in the Great Hall, but he was used to that. His years of practice had taught him that any period of sustained concentration brought with it a feeling of bright strong light. The children had discovered that also.

  He looked around the laboratory at the familiar equipment and at his notes and equations. He rested his chin on his hands and thought about the Whangdoodle.

  Quite suddenly, it happened. A strange sensation crept over him. There was a feeling of lightness, as if a great weight were being lifted from his shoulders. He forgot about the children and the Prock.

  Thoughts and ideas flooded into his mind like the water that raced down the hillsides to join the Golden River. The professor reached for a pad and pencil and began to write as fast as he could.

  Hours later, the big double doors to the Great Hall opened. The Whangdoodle peeped into the room.

  "Hi there," he said with a shy grin. "I just couldn't keep away any longer. How's it all going?"

  The professor was wildly busy. Clouds of steam billowed from a pan at one end of the room. Several flasks containing colored liquids were bubbling noisily. The professor's spectacles were on the very tip of his nose. He was scribbling furiously on the blackboard.

  The Whangdoodle crept forward and peered over his shoulder. He made noises of appreciation. "My word. You humans have come a long way since I was around. I confess, I haven't the slightest idea what you're doing."

  The professor grabbed a towel and rubbed the board frantically. "I sometimes wonder myself, Your Majesty. Now, if you'll excuse me . . ."

  "Oh, this is all so exciting," the Whangdoodle lisped happily. "I can't tell you how I appreciate this effort. So much seems to be happening. Have you seen my slippers?"

  He lifted a foot to show the professor. "I lost the pink ones just a while ago, and look what's growing already. Aren't they sensational? Silver and gold, with bells on. I've never grown bells before. I can only surmise that it is due to the anticipation."

  The professor put both hands to his head. "Your Majesty, I really do have to concentrate. . ."

  "Yes, yes, of course you do. Oh, goodness. I hope you will succeed. I can't eat, you know. I just can't. I must confess that even in the old days, when there were more of us, I seldom had the company of a lady Whangdoodle. The humans kept us so busy, you see. At one time they loved us very much and we loved them. I'll tell you a secret. I miss them a great deal. It's been very lonely these past five hundred years. You can understand my anxiety about the experiment?"

  "I can, Your Majesty. But there won't be an experiment if I don't have a little peace and quiet."

  "Ah. Yes. I was just going. Is there anything I can do?"

  "Just try to keep everyone away from the Great Hall for a while."

  "I will. I will."

  "Sire . . . please don't get too excited. This may not work. I'm on to something. But it could fail," the professor cautioned.

  "Come, come. A little perseverance." The Whangdoodle slapped the professor on the back. "Keep up the good work. I just know you can do it. You're a splendid fellow. Splendid."

  He bounced to the door. "You will send for me the moment something happens?"

  "Yes, Your Majesty."

  "You're really on to something?"

  "Yes, Your Majesty."

  "Oooh. I can't stand it. I may suffocate with excitement. I will leave you now. Pax amor et lepos in ioca
ndo. Goodbye."

  "Goodbye." The professor turned away.

  The Whangdoodle popped his head around the door again. "Oh, one more thing . . ."

  The professor sighed with exasperation.

  "That silly hat looks simply stunning on you." The Whangdoodle grinned and disappeared.

  The entire palace became a place of hushed expectation. The inhabitants crept around, speaking in whispers, not daring to make a sound in case it disturbed the professor.

  The children spent a lot of time exploring. The Prock showed them the Whangdoodle's private apartments and the fabulous royal kitchens. There was a special pantry for wodge making.

  "Is wodge the only thing the Whangdoodle eats?" Lindy asked.

  "Good heavens, no," replied the Prock. "He adores olives. He'll eat them by the ton. Once in a while he'll take a piece of broccoli as well."

  "Broccoli! How gross." Lindy grimaced.

  The children discovered that the head chef in the kitchen was none other than the Oinck. They watched him making a fresh batch of wodge. He looked very efficient in his tall chef's hat, but he sang mournfully:

  Sweets for a sweet tooth, Confections for the royal.

  Put it in a saucepan

  And leave it there to boil.

  The Prock patted the Oinck on the shoulder. "Keep up the good work. His Majesty is delighted with the cooking." He winked at the children and whispered, "He is awfully vague at times, but there's not a better wodge maker in the country."

  The Oinck said solemnly, "Watch out for yesterday. It'll catch up with you every time."

  The children learned how the palace was organized. The household chores were carried out by hundreds of penguin like creatures called "Jiffies." They were always running frantically about the place and seemed terribly busy. The Prock explained that it was not in a Jiffy's nature to walk, which was why they made such efficient help. "You see, they get things done in half the time and that leaves them plenty of time to play, which is something they love to do."

  The other important members of the palace staff were the little furry Flukes. They were couriers for the Whangdoodle, ran errands and generally made themselves useful.

  Tom asked if he could visit the Whiffle Bird. He found her curled up on a pillow in a small cheerful room. She looked tiny and fragile, and her colors were dull, as she lay listless and alone. But the moment she saw Tom she brightened considerably.

  "Hello, Whiffle Bird. We've all been so worried about you. How are you feeling?"

  She fluffed out her feathers and began to make small crooning noises. Tom knelt down and stroked her fondly. He saw the tiny hands come through the waving plumes and the black button eyes staring out at him.

  "I do hope you'll be well enough to get out and about soon. It's lonely without you, you know."

  His words seemed to work wonders, for she began to strut up and down and behave much like her old self:

  "I'll come back and visit again, if you promise to get well soon. Is that a deal?"

  At this she seemed very content and settled back in a corner to rest. Tom left the room feeling much happier; after worrying so much about the Whiffle Bird, it was good to know that she was on the road to recovery.

  The Whangdoodle sent for the children often and they spent long hours with him. They were wonderful hours; for he was the most gracious and fun-loving host. He was thrilled and stimulated by their visits, yet at times his mind was obviously elsewhere. Under the circumstances it wasn't hard to guess that His Majesty was most anxiously waiting to hear from the professor.

  The weather became very cloudy and still. Late one afternoon it began to rain, slowly at first—large drops splashing against the crystal walls and running down in shimmering rivulets. The wind rose and the rain came down harder.

  The Prock hurried into the salon where the Whangdoodle was having tea and wodge with the children. There was a rumble of thunder overhead. The Prock spoke with restrained excitement.

  "Your Majesty, it hasn't rained in years. Not like this. You know what that could mean?"

  "I know, I know, my good fellow. I was thinking the same thing myself." The Whangdoodle began to tremble and rose unsteadily to his feet. "Oh, my goodness, do you suppose that . . ." He gulped and was unable to finish the sentence.

  The Prock seemed to be listening for something. "In olden days we believed that a storm such as this was an omen. Something out of the ordinary is going to happen. I'm quite sure of it."

  The thunder rumbled once more and the wind chimes in the courtyards sang an eerie song. Over the sound came another sound—a faint chattering noise that brought the children to their feet as it grew louder and louder.

  The Prock strode to the big double doors and flung them open.

  The noise was almost deafening. Running towards him down the corridor were all the members of the royal household. They were chattering and tripping, and falling over each other in their haste and excitement.

  The Jiffies were screaming, "It's done, Your Majesty! It's done! It's done!"

  "Come and see! Come and see!" cried the little Flukes. They tugged at the Whangdoodle's slippers. "Hurry, Your Majesty!"

  Sidewinders thrashed through the crowd, waving their trunks in the air and yelling, "The professor says to come straightaway!"

  "Yes, yes! Straightaway!" everybody shouted at once.

  Ben cried in triumph, "He's done it! He's done it!"

  The Whangdoodle turned bright red and leaned momentarily against the Prock. He clutched his stomach. Then, regaining control, he began to gallop towards the Great Hall.

  The Jiffies and the Sidewinders and the Flukes fell back to allow him room, but the moment he had passed, the vast throng closed ranks and followed after him.

  Tom, Ben and Lindy found themselves being swept along. In their excitement they unashamedly pushed and shoved until they were at the head of the crowd and close behind the Whangdoodle. He skidded to a halt just inside the doors of the Great Hall. As abruptly as the noise had begun, it died away.

  In the hushed, expectant silence, a weary and exhausted Professor Savant walked forward to greet the Whangdoodle,

  "Your Majesty—" he said, and the children knew that it was hard for him to control his excitement. "There is someone I would like you to meet."

  He stepped to one side. A gasp of astonishment rose from the crowd.

  Seated on a white silk cushion in the center of the room, looking at everyone with much curiosity, was a smaller, daintier, and undeniably feminine replica of the Whangdoodle. She was the color of a fawn; her eyes were large and soft with long, curling lashes. On her head were small antlers which she wore like a crown. Her front hooves were crossed delicately on the pillow and her back hooves were covered by a pair of tiny satin slippers. She was breathtakingly beautiful.

  She caught sight of the King and blinked with surprise, and then smiled to reveal one sweet tooth with a daisy on it.

  In a voice that suggested the softest murmurings of a harp, she whispered, "Umbledumbledum."

  The Whangdoodle stood absolutely still, momentarily stunned. He turned every color of the rainbow. Then his legs buckled beneath him and he fainted.

  EIGHT

  The Great Hall was cleared in readiness for a celebration. As miraculously as it had been turned into a laboratory, it now turned into a banquet hall.

  Lanterns and banners and silk canopies and ribbons were brought in. Tables and chairs were set for a tremendous feast. The royal gold and silver was polished until it shone brighter than ever before. Flowers were gathered. Great and exotic dishes were prepared.

  The Whangdoodle had ordered the greatest party in the history of Whangdoodleland, and the palace staff intended to see that he got it. The King was beside himself with happiness, and the entire country rejoiced with him.

  Lindy was concerned about a dress when the subject of a party was first suggested. "I don't have anything to wear," she cried in dismay. "I can't go to a party in these old clothes."
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  The Whangdoodle put her at ease. He commissioned a dress of ambrosia flowers for her, with a band of Flutterbye silk for her hair. New clothes were fashioned for the professor and the boys, and each was given a handsome cape for the occasion.

  By sunset everything was ready and the excitement in the palace was intense.

  The Splintercat was the first to arrive. He bounded into the Great Hall with tremendous enthusiasm and seemed genuinely pleased to see Lindy. He had brushed his silky fur until it shone. He wore a diamond bracelet around his tail.

  The Whiffle Bird was well enough to join the party, and for most of the evening stayed close to Tom.

  The Oinck came from the kitchens and, for a change, he looked quite cheerful. He wore a smart frilly hat which kept falling over his eyes.

  The Sidewinders wore their dress uniforms with bright-red shoes and golden stockings on their ten legs.

  The Prock surprised everyone. He arrived at the party looking resplendent in an embroidered frock coat and a silver trilby hat, and carrying a long, jeweled staff.

  "You really do look like a prime minister," Ben said.

  The Prock actually blushed. "Oh, this old thing. I haven't taken it out of the cupboard for at least two hundred years."

  Lindy's flower dress was a triumph. Tom said candidly that she had never smelled so nice.

  The boys were handsome in their new capes, and the professor looked particularly dashing. The Whangdoodle had presented him with a gold laurel wreath, which sat with distinction on his venerable head. He had tucked his new crimson corduroy trousers into his purple socks, and, of course, he wore the cape and the special ring that the Whangdoodle had given him.

  By the time every Jiffy and Fluke had been packed into the hall, the place was filled to capacity.

  At the appropriate moment, the Prock moved to a velvet covered platform at the far end of the room, where there were two golden chairs. Above them hung a silken canopy and a burnished shield with the words Pax amor et lepos in iocando.

  The Prock banged his staff for attention and his voice rang through the hall.