“That must be fun,” said Button-Bright.
“No, it’s work,” replied the old donkey; “but we make our youngsters do all the whitewashing, to keep them out of mischief.”
“Don’t they go to school?” asked Dorothy.
“All donkeys are born wise,” was the reply, “so the only school we need is the school of experience. Books are only for those who know nothing, and so are obliged to learn things from other people.”
“In other words, the more stupid one is, the more he thinks he knows,” observed the shaggy man. The grey donkey paid no attention to this speech because he had just stopped before a house which had painted over the doorway a pair of hoofs, with a donkey tail between them and a rude crown and sceptre above.
“I’ll see if his magnificent Majesty King Kik-a-bray is at home,” said he. He lifted his head and called “Whee-haw! whee-haw! whee-haw!” three times, in a shocking voice, turning about and kicking with his heels against the panel of the door. For a time there was no reply; then the door opened far enough to permit a donkey’s head to stick out and look at them.
It was a white head, with big, awful ears and round, solemn eyes.
“Have the foxes gone?” it asked, in a trembling voice.
“They haven’t been here, most stupendous Majesty,” replied the grey one. “The new arrivals prove to be travelers of distinction.”
“Oh,” said the King, in a relieved tone of voice. “Let them come in.”
He opened the door wide, and the party marched into a big room, which, Dorothy thought, looked quite unlike a king’s palace. There were mats of woven grasses on the floor and the place was clean and neat; but his Majesty had no other furniture at all—perhaps because he didn’t need it. He squatted down in the center of the room and a little brown donkey ran and brought a big gold crown which it placed on the monarch’s head, and a golden staff with a jeweled ball at the end of it, which the King held between his front hoofs as he sat upright.
“Now, then,” said his Majesty, waving his long ears gently to and fro, “tell me why you are here, and what you expect me to do for you.” He eyed Button-Bright rather sharply, as if afraid of the little boy’s queer head, though it was the shaggy man who undertook to reply.
“Most noble and supreme ruler of Dunkiton,” he said, trying not to laugh in the solemn King’s face, “we are strangers traveling through your dominions and have entered your magnificent city because the road led through it, and there was no way to go around. All we desire is to pay our respects to your Majesty—the cleverest king in all the world, I’m sure—and then to continue on our way.”
This polite speech pleased the King very much; indeed, it pleased him so much that it proved an unlucky speech for the shaggy man. Perhaps the Love Magnet helped to win his Majesty’s affections as well as the flattery, but however this may be, the white donkey looked kindly upon the speaker and said:
“Only a donkey should be able to use such fine, big words, and you are too wise and admirable in all ways to be a mere man. Also I feel that I love you as well as I do my own favored people, so I will bestow upon you the greatest gift within my power—a donkey’s head.”
As he spoke he waved his jeweled staff. Although the shaggy man cried out and tried to leap backward and escape, it proved of no use. Suddenly his own head was gone and a donkey head appeared in its place—a brown, shaggy head so absurd and droll that Dorothy and Polly both broke into merry laughter, and even Button-Bright’s fox face wore a smile.
“Dear me! dear me!” cried the shaggy man, feeling of his shaggy new head and his long ears. “What a misfortune—what a great misfortune! Give me back my own head, you stupid king—if you love me at all!”
“Don’t you like it?” asked the King, surprised.
“Hee-haw! I hate it! Take it away—quick!” said the shaggy man.
“But I can’t do that,” was the reply. “My magic works only one way. I can do things, but I can’t undo them. You’ll have to find the Truth Pond, and bathe in its water, in order to get back your own head. But I advise you not to do that. This head is much more beautiful than the old one.”
“That’s a matter of taste,” said Dorothy.
“Where is the Truth Pond?” asked the shaggy man, earnestly.
“Somewhere in the Land of Oz; but just the exact location of it I can not tell,” was the answer.
“Don’t worry, Shaggy Man,” said Dorothy, smiling because her friend wagged his new ears so comically. “If the Truth Pond is in Oz we’ll be sure to find it when we get there.”
“Oh! Are you going to the Land of Oz?” asked King Kik-a-bray.
“I don’t know,” she replied, “but we’ve been told we are nearer the Land of Oz than to Kansas, and if that’s so the quickest way for me to get home is to find Ozma.”
“Haw-haw! Do you know the mighty Princess Ozma?” asked the King, his tone both surprised and eager.
“’Course I do; she’s my friend,” said Dorothy.
“Then perhaps you’ll do me a favor,” continued the white donkey, much excited.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Perhaps you can get me an invitation to Princess Ozma’s birthday celebration, which will be the grandest royal function ever held in fairyland. I’d love to go.”
“Hee-haw! You deserve punishment, rather than reward, for giving me this dreadful head,” said the shaggy man, sorrowfully.
“I wish you wouldn’t say ‘hee-haw’ so much,” Polychrome begged him; “it makes cold chills run down my back.”
“But I can’t help it, my dear; my donkey head wants to bray continually,” he replied. “Doesn’t your fox head want to yelp every minute?” he asked Button-Bright.
“Don’t know,” said the boy, still staring at the shaggy man’s ears. These seemed to interest him greatly, and the sight also made him forget his own fox head, which was a comfort.
“What do you think, Polly? Shall I promise the donkey king an invitation to Ozma’s party?” asked Dorothy of the Rainbow’s Daughter, who was flitting about the room like a sunbeam because she could never keep still.
“Do as you please, dear,” answered Polychrome. “He might help to amuse the guests of the Princess.”
“Then, if you will give us some supper and a place to sleep to-night, and let us get started on our journey early to-morrow morning,” said Dorothy to the King, “I’ll ask Ozma to invite you—if I happen to get to Oz.”
“Good! Hee-haw! Excellent!” cried Kik-a-bray, much pleased. “You shall all have fine suppers and good beds. What food would you prefer, a bran mash or ripe oats in the shell?”
“Neither one,” replied Dorothy, promptly.
“Perhaps plain hay, or some sweet juicy grass would suit you better,” suggested Kik-a-bray, musingly.
“Is that all you have to eat?” asked the girl.
“What more do you desire?”
“Well, you see we’re not donkeys,” she explained, “and so we’re used to other food. The foxes gave us a nice supper in Foxville.”
“We’d like some dewdrops and mist-cakes,” said Polychrome.
“I’d prefer apples and a ham sandwich,” declared the shaggy man, “for although I’ve a donkey head, I still have my own particular stomach.”
“I want pie,” said Button-Bright.
“I think some beefsteak and chocolate layer-cake would taste best,” said Dorothy.
“Hee-haw! I declare!” exclaimed the King. “It seems each one of you wants a different food. How queer all living creatures are, except donkeys!”
“And donkeys like you are queerest of all,” laughed Polychrome.
“Well,” decided the King, “I suppose my Magic Staff will produce the things you crave; if you are lacking in good taste it is not my fault.”
With this, he waved his staff with the jeweled ball, and before them instantly appeared a tea-table, set with linen and pretty dishes, and on the table were the very things each had wished for. Doro
thy’s beefsteak was smoking hot, and the shaggy man’s apples were plump and rosy-cheeked. The King had not thought to provide chairs, so they all stood in their places around the table and ate with good appetite, being hungry. The Rainbow’s Daughter found three tiny dewdrops on a crystal plate, and Button-Bright had a big slice of apple-pie, which he devoured eagerly.
Afterward the King called the brown donkey, which was his favorite servant, and bade it lead his guests to the vacant house where they were to pass the night. It had only one room and no furniture except beds of clean straw and a few mats of woven grasses; but our travelers were contented with these simple things because they realized it was the best the Donkey-King had to offer them. As soon as it was dark they lay down on the mats and slept comfortably until morning.
At daybreak there was a dreadful noise throughout the city. Every donkey in the place brayed. When he heard this the shaggy man woke up and called out “Hee-haw!” as loud as he could.
“Stop that!” said Button-Bright, in a cross voice. Both Dorothy and Polly looked at the shaggy man reproachfully.
“I couldn’t help it, my dears,” he said, as if ashamed of his bray; “but I’ll try not to do it again.”
Of course they forgave him, for as he still had the Love Magnet in his pocket they were all obliged to love him as much as ever.
They did not see the King again, but Kik-a-bray remembered them; for a table appeared again in their room with the same food upon it as on the night before.
“Don’t want pie for breakfus’,” said Button-Bright.
“I’ll give you some of my beefsteak,” proposed Dorothy; “there’s plenty for us all.”
That suited the boy better, but the shaggy man said he was content with his apples and sandwiches, although he ended the meal by eating Button-Bright’s pie. Polly liked her dewdrops and mist-cakes better than any other food, so they all enjoyed an excellent breakfast. Toto had the scraps left from the beefsteak, and he stood up nicely on his hind legs while Dorothy fed them to him.
Breakfast ended, they passed through the village to the side opposite that by which they had entered, the brown servant-donkey guiding them through the maze of scattered houses. There was the road again, leading far away into the unknown country beyond.
“King Kik-a-bray says you must not forget his invitation,” said the brown donkey, as they passed through the opening in the wall.
“I shan’t,” promised Dorothy.
Perhaps no one ever beheld a more strangely assorted group than the one which now walked along the road, through pretty green fields and past groves of feathery pepper-trees and fragrant mimosa. Polychrome, her beautiful gauzy robes floating around her like a rainbow cloud, went first, dancing back and forth and darting now here to pluck a wild-flower or there to watch a beetle crawl across the path. Toto ran after her at times, barking joyously the while, only to become sober again and trot along at Dorothy’s heels. The little Kansas girl walked holding Button-Bright’s hand clasped in her own, and the wee boy with his fox head covered by the sailor hat presented an odd appearance. Strangest of all, perhaps, was the shaggy man, with his shaggy donkey head, who shuffled along in the rear with his hands thrust deep in his big pockets.
None of the party was really unhappy. All were straying in an unknown land and had suffered more or less annoyance and discomfort; but they realized they were having a fairy adventure in a fairy country, and were much interested in finding out what would happen next.
Chapter 8
The MUSICKER
bout the middle of the forenoon they began to go up a long hill. By-and-by this hill suddenly dropped down into a pretty valley, where the travelers saw to their surprise, a small house standing by the road-side.
It was the first house they had seen, and they hastened into the valley to discover who lived there. No one was in sight as they approached, but when they began to get nearer the house they heard queer sounds coming from it. They could not make these out at first, but as they became louder our friends thought they heard a sort of music like that made by a wheezy hand-organ; the music fell upon their ears in this way:
Tiddle-widdle-iddle, oom pom-pom!
Oom, pom-pom! oom, pom-pom!
Tiddle-tiddle-tiddle, oom pom-pom!
Oom, pom-pom—pah!
“What is it, a band or a mouth-organ?” asked Dorothy.
“Don’t know,” said Button-Bright.
“Sounds to me like a played-out phonograph,” said the shaggy man, lifting his enormous ears to listen.
“Oh, there just couldn’t be a funnygraf in fairyland!” cried Dorothy.
“It’s rather pretty, isn’t it?” asked Polychrome, trying to dance to the strains.
Tiddle-widdle-iddle, oom pom-pom,
Oom pom-pom; oom pom-pom!
came the music to their ears, more distinctly as they drew nearer the house. Presently, they saw a little fat man sitting on a bench before the door. He wore a red, braided jacket that reached to his waist, a blue waistcoat, and white trousers with gold stripes down the sides. On his bald head was perched a little, round, red cap held in place by a rubber elastic underneath his chin. His face was round, his eyes a faded blue, and he wore white cotton gloves. The man leaned on a stout gold-headed cane, bending forward on his seat to watch his visitors approach.
Singularly enough, the musical sounds they had heard seemed to come from the inside of the fat man himself; for he was playing no instrument nor was any to be seen near him.
They came up and stood in a row, staring at him, and he stared back while the queer sounds came from him as before:
Tiddle-iddle-iddle, oom pom-pom,
Oom, pom-pom; oom pom-pom!
Tiddle-widdle-iddle, oom pom-pom,
Oom, pom-pom—pah!
“Why, he’s a reg’lar musicker!” said Button-Bright.
“What’s a musicker?” asked Dorothy.
“Him!” said the boy.
Hearing this, the fat man sat up a little stiffer than before, as if he had received a compliment, and still came the sounds:
Tiddle-widdle-iddle, oom pom-pom,
Oom pom-pom, oom—
“Stop it!” cried the shaggy man, earnestly. “Stop that dreadful noise.”
The fat man looked at him sadly and began his reply. When he spoke the music changed and the words seemed to accompany the notes. He said—or rather sang:
It isn’t a noise that you hear,
But Music, harmonic and clear.
My breath makes me play
Like an organ, all day—
That bass note is in my left ear.
“How funny!” exclaimed Dorothy; “he says his breath makes the music.”
“That’s all nonsense,” declared the shaggy man; but now the music began again, and they all listened carefully.
My lungs are full of reeds like those
In organs, therefore I suppose,
If I breathe in or out my nose,
The reeds are bound to play.
So, as I breathe to live, you know,
I squeeze out music as I go;
I’m very sorry this is so—
Forgive my piping, pray!
“Poor man,” said Polychrome; “he can’t help it. What a great misfortune it is!”
“Yes,” replied the shaggy man; “we are only obliged to hear this music a short time, until we leave him and go away; but the poor fellow must listen to himself as long as he lives, and that is enough to drive him crazy. Don’t you think so?”
“Don’t know,” said Button-Bright. Toto said, “Bow-wow!” and the others laughed.
“Perhaps that’s why he lives all alone,” suggested Dorothy.
“Yes; if he had neighbors, they might do him an injury,” responded the shaggy man.
All this while the little fat musicker was breathing the notes:
Tiddle-tiddle-iddle, oom, pom-pom,
and they had to speak loud in order to hear themselves. The shaggy man said:
/> “Who are you, sir?”
The reply came in the shape of this sing-song:
I’m Allegro da Capo, a very famous man;
Just find another, high or low, to match me if you can.
Some people try, but can’t, to play
And have to practice every day;
But I’ve been musical alway, since first my life began.
“Why, I b’lieve he’s proud of it,” exclaimed Dorothy; “and seems to me I’ve heard worse music than he makes.”
“Where?” asked Button-Bright.
“I’ve forgotten, just now. But Mr. Da Capo is certainly a strange person—isn’t he?—and p’r’aps he’s the only one of his kind in all the world.”
This praise seemed to please the little fat musicker, for he swelled out his chest, looked important and sang as follows:
I wear no band around me,
And yet I am a band!
I do not strain to make my strains
But, on the other hand,
My toot is always destitute
Of flats or other errors;
To see sharp and be natural are
For me but minor terrors.
“I don’t quite understand that,” said Polychrome, with a puzzled look; “but perhaps it’s because I’m accustomed only to the music of the spheres.”
“What’s that?” asked Button-Bright.
“Oh, Polly means the atmosphere and hemisphere, I s’pose,” explained Dorothy.
“Oh,” said Button-Bright.
“Bow-wow!” said Toto.
But the musicker was still breathing his constant
Oom, pom-pom; oom, pom-pom—
and it seemed to jar on the shaggy man’s nerves.
“Stop it, can’t you?” he cried angrily; “or breathe in a whisper; or put a clothes-pin on your nose. Do something, anyhow!”
But the fat one, with a sad look, sang this answer:
Oz, The Complete Collection Page 54
