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 exil — 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, marveled 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!”
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 geneosity 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 today,” 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.
CHAPTER 21
The Grand Procession
THE next day there was a grand procession through the streets of the Emerald City, in honor of the long lost King of Oz. The Elegant Elephant led off, the King and Humpy dressed exactly alike riding proudly on his back. Next rode Ozma upon the famous Saw Horse; then came the Cowardly Lion, carrying Dorothy and Snip; then the Hungry Tiger with Betsy and Trot.
Pajuka, astride the Comfortable Camel, was a sight worth seeing, for the huge Prime Minister was splendidly costumed. Besides this, he had a pipe in each hand, taking first a puff from one and then a puff from the other, so that he was almost hidden in clouds of smoke. Sir Hokus, upon the Doubtful Dromedary, bowed politely to his many friends and acquaintances. Scraps and the Scarecrow followed the Knight and after them marched Tik Tok, the Soldier with the Green Whiskers and all the other famous folk from the palace, down to the smallest page. Slowly and majestically they circled the city, returning tired out, but well satisfied, to the cool and fragrant gardens of the palace.
“Now,” sighed Ozma, sliding down from the Saw Horse, “there is nothing left to do but punish Mombi. What shall we do with Mombi?”
“Turn her to a cooky, and then I can eat her up without my conscience troubling me,” purred the Hungry Tiger, thumping his tail lazily up and down in the grass.
“She’d make an awfully stale cooky,” sniffed Scraps, swinging herself expertly up into a tree. “Turn her into a rock and throw her away.
“Why not put her out like I did the other witches?” asked Dorothy, fanning herself with her best crown, which she had worn in honor of the occasion. “Water will finish her once and forever!”
“I believe I will,” mused Ozma. “That is, if father thinks it is all right?” The King, with a huge pair of gold specs on his nose, was busily measuring Snip for a suit, and nodded absently at his royal daughter. “Anything you say, my dear,” said the royal tailor, writing down the measurements in a little book.
So off ran Sir Hokus and the Scarecrow to carry out the sentence, returning in a few minutes with Mombi’s buckled shoes, all that remained of the old Gilliken Witch and her temper. She had been washed out with water, and would never bother anyone in Oz again.
Just as the royal party was trooping into the palace for lunch, a page rushed out to announce a visitor. It was General Whiffenpuff and a loud noise whom he introduced as the Invisible Cook. Travelling night and day, and searching everywhere for Mombi and Snip, he had finally reached the Emerald City and found the famous cook recommended by the Town Laugher of Kimbaloo. His delight at seeing the little button boy safe and sound was only exceeded by his astonishment at Snip’s marvelous adventures, but as the cook, for all her invisibility, had a bad habit of treading on the general’s toes, he was anxious to return to Kimbaloo and turn her over to Kinda Jolly.
“I’ll take you back,” volunteered Kabumpo carelessly. “It’s on my way home anyhow.” The Elegant Elephant was also anxious to be off and acquaint the court of Pumperdink with the important events that had transpired. He wished to display the emerald head-piece Ozma had given him, and dazzle the courtiers with the silver robe bestowed upon him by the kingly tailor of Oz. So after a quick luncheon, a quick exchange of goodbyes and good wishes, the pompous old elephant took his departure, carrying on his back brave General Whiffenpuff, the Invisible Cook and the gallant little button boy of Kimbaloo.
“Hurry back!” called the King, waving his silver shears anxiously at Snip. “I need you!”
“Hurry back,” called Pajuka, blinking his eyes to keep from crying, “I’ll miss you!”
“I will!” promised Snip, nearly crying himself. “I will!” The last thing the little button boy saw was the Prime Minister diving fully dressed into the pond. Pajuka had again forgotten he was no longer a goose.
If you could peek into the Emerald City this very minute you would see that a splendid tailoring shop has been set up next to the palace-a splendid shop, where the retired King and Snip work happily for part of the day and hold court for the rest. And wherever you find the royal tailor you’ll be pretty sure to see his cheerful double.
THE END
Table of Contents
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
L. Frank Baum - Oz 19 Page 14
