“I suppose so,” said Jenny, opening the door wider. Two seconds later the Voice said from inside, across the room, “Thank you. This is so comfortable.” Jenny turned quickly.
“Where are you? I can’t see you,” she said.
“Right here, by the fireplace. The evening was getting chilly, you know.”
The Munchkin family were staring toward the place from where the Voice came.
“Will you have some supper?” the mother asked. “No, thank you. It’s not I, but my Man who gets hungry. Oh, how I wish I could find him!”
“Where did he go?” asked the farmer.
“If I knew that, wouldn’t I go after him?” asked the Voice sharply. Then it sighed.
“He never should have gone fishing in a draft. All he caught was a Cold! Ugh! A nasty creature was that Cold. Slimy and watery as an oyster without a shell. Do you know what that nasty Cold did?”
“What did it do?” Jenny asked curiously.
The Voice rose to an angry shriek.
“It crept into my Man’s throat and filled it so full that I was pushed out. When I fell out, the moon Went behind a cloud and it got too dark to see anything. I tried to follow my Man, hoping for a chance to slip back into his throat. But it was too dark. So I lost him.”
The Voice began to sob, and that started Baby Fourteen sobbing.
“Never mind,” said the mother to the Voice, “we’ll all go to bed now. Perhaps when you have rested, your eyes will be better.”
“My what?” asked the horrified Voice. “Excuse me. I mean, you’ll find your master. “Thank you, ma’am.” Jenny guessed that the Voice belonged to a polite person.
“I’ll be going soon. I don’t need a long rest. My Man is a singer, and I am trained to go on for hours.”
“Oh, won’t you sing something for the children the mother asked. “A lullaby?”
“I know all lullabies of Oz. which would you like?” “The Munchkin Blues would be lovely.” “Ahem!” There was a silence. Then a soothing lullaby came out of the corner: “The blue Munchkin babies are nodding their blue heads,
And their eyelids are closing fast;
Oh, soon they’ll be tucked in their little blue
beds,
For dreamland to take them at last.”
The Voice sang through seventeen verses and then said happily, “I feel much better. Thank you for asking me to sing. It is like old times. Pray, don’t stay up on my account. Just leave a window open, and I’ll slip out during the night. I must try to find
my dear Master.”
By this time the fourteen children and Jenny were fast asleep.
CHAPTER 6
The Magic Turn-Style
IN THE morning Jenny awoke refreshed and ate a hearty breakfast of blue oatmeal with blue cream. She thanked the farmer and said goodbye to all the family.
As she was going down the lane, she heard Number Nine shouting after her, “Wait for me, Jenny! I’m coming with you.”
She was glad to have his company, for she had grown very fond of the blue boy. They walked through blue fields toward the main highway which led to the Emerald City. Jenny might have jumped on her fairy foot and got there sooner, but she had to let the boy keep up with her. Besides, she was in no hurry to leave this pleasant land with its blue meadows and distant blue hills.
As they were passing the ruins of an old building, she stopped. With her fairy eye she could see that
this was not just a plain old ruin, but something more important.
“Why are you stopping?” asked Number Nine.
“Come, we are going to explore,” said Jenny.
But Number Nine hung. back. “Better stay away from that,” he said. “That is where a magician used to practice forbidden magic. One day his house blew up, and he was blown to Kingdom Come.”
Jenny’s curiosity became all the greater. “Come on,” she said.
But Number Nine wouldn’t budge. Jenny’s anger began to grow. This was the first time she had been angry in Oz.
“Do as I tell you! Didn’t you say, after I saved You from the sky, that you were my humble servant?”
Number Nine had never seen anyone angry before. He stammered, “All right, Jenny. Whatever you say.”
Jenny led the way toward the ruin. As she came near, she saw many old rusted tools, broken copper pots, and parts of chains half hidden in the grass. The chimney of the house and part of a high wall were still standing. In this wall was a rickety old turnstile. The turnstile served as the gate into what was once the house.
“Come on, we’re going through that stile,” said Jenny, and started forward.
Number Nine was too frightened to obey. Jenny kept on. When she touched the turnstile, it wobbled and almost fell apart. Jenny bent forward to see how safe it was to turn it, and as she did so, her hat fell through the stile.
“Leaping Leprechauns!” said Jenny, staring at her hat that lay on the other side of the stile.
Before falling through the turnstile, it had been a battered old hat without any decoration. Now it was lovely and new, with a soft blue feather curling around the brim.
“Now, what have I done to deserve a feather in
my cap?” she asked. “It was the turn-style that did
it. It really does turn styles.”
She studied the turn-style that had once belonged to the Munchkin magician. She couldn’t see anything magical about its rusty frame.
“But it changed my hat. What will happen if I go through it?” she thought. “I won’t know until
I’ve tried.”
Saying this, Jenny pushed herself through the
turn-style
“Leaping Leprechauns!” She stared down at herself in amazement. This time her hat was a pointed One with little bells around the brim. Her tattered grey cape had become bright blue and new. Her shoes had new shining buckles and turned-up toes. Her old dress had disappeared, and she was wearing an entire blue Munchkin costume.
“Number Nine, Number Nine,” she called excitedly, “do you like my new style?”
The boy came closer. “Why, you’re beautiful, Jenny. How did you do it?”
“This is a magic turn-style,” Jenny said. “I believe it will make my fortune. Run home and fetch a wheelbarrow!”
“You don’t want that old piece ofjunk!” said Number Nine.
Jenny grew angry again. “Do as you’re told,” she ordered. “Remember, you are my humble servant.”
Number Nine ran off, and Jenny began to take the turn-style apart. It was hard work, but Jenny’s fairy fingers were strong. When she had taken the turn-style to pieces, the boy returned with a wheelbarrow.
Jenny loaded the turn-style pieces on the wheelbarrow and ordered Number Nine to trundle it. When he grew tired, she put her fairy fingers to it and helped push.
“I don’t know what you want this junk for,” Number Nine grumbled.
“I am going to open a Style Shop in the Emerald City. I always wanted to be my own boss. And you shall be my office boy!” said Jenny.
She walked more swiftly. “Hurry, hurry!” she exclaimed. “My fortune is waiting for me.”
CHAPTER 7
The House with the Strawberry Roof
IT WAS high noon when Jenny and Number Nine, trundling the wheelbarrow, approached the great wall of the Emerald City. This wall was built of priceless emeralds, cut and polished. When the sunlight struck them, they reflected a soft green light. Above the wall was the tower from which the Guardian of the Gate watched all who came and went As Jenny and Number Nine drew near, the old Guardian came down to welcome them.
“Hail and greeting, little lady!” He bowed low to Jenny. “Welcome to the Wonder City of Oz, ruled over by the most gracious fairy, Queen Ozma, supreme Ruler of the North, East, South, and West.
Sovereign of all the kings, emperors, and princesses in the land. Resister of evil forces— “
The Guardian would have gone on, but Jenny broke in, “Please, sir, I’
m in a hurry. And there is something I want to ask you.”
The Guardian straightened up, then bowed again. “Gracious visitor from the U.S.A., the humble Gate Keeper of the Emerald City begs to inform you that it is his duty, privilege, and pleasure to serve your smallest wish. And— “
“Where can I find a house to live in?” Jenny interrupted.
The Guardian of the Gate put his hand into his pocket, saying, “I have the complete list of all vacant houses” But his hand came out of his pocket empty. He searched all his other pockets and then sighed, “Ahz, yes, I forgot. I gave it to the Soldier with the Green Whiskers to cut paper dolls.”
“I want a house. How am I to get it?” asked Jenny. “Nothing could be easier,” the Guardian smiled at her. “Just walk up and down the streets and look until you find an empty house that wants you.” Jenny thanked the Guardian and gave Number Nine a poke to hurry him along. They left the gate behind them and went deeper into the city. Jenny looked around her in delight. She saw many parks
with statues in marble and sapphire, trees with delicious fruit hanging from the branches, and cool fountains that gave off a fragrance.
The streets were alive with visitors from the four countries of Oz, dressed in red, yellow, purple, and blue costumes.
At the corner they turned right and came to a row of houses. It was easy to tell the empty houses by their vacant expressions. The faces of some of the houses were not friendly to Jenny. Finally, deciding to try one anyway, she said to Number Nine, “Wait here. I’m going to try this house.” She pointed to a green cottage.
She went up the stairs and put her hand on the knob. The door refused to open. The hinges stiffened themselves. The windows clamped themselves tight. The doorbell would not ring. The gable of the house frowned.
Jenny backed away. This house certainly did not want her. They went on, crossing Pudding Place, Celery Street, and Doughnut Drive. On the corner of Strawberry Street and Banana Boulevard, which was the busiest part of town, Jenny saw a house with a roof made of strawberries. It had a vacant smile on its face, but its window eyes glistened warmly.
So Jenny went toward it.
As she approached the door, the key sprang off the nail and into her hand. The door opened at her first touch.
“I’ll always feel welcome here,” she said as she stepped inside. She looked around the large front room with approval.
“Just the place for a Style Shop,” she thought. “I can live upstairs.”
The walls were papered in a sunny silver, and the floors were green. Every nook was cozy with furniture. There were sitting chairs, sleeping sofas, and staring mirrors. The cupboards were full of cheerful china. There was nothing lacking. All she needed to do was to set up her turn-style and she’d be ready for business.
A moon-shaped clock hung on the front room wall. Jenny looked at it.
“It’s time I moved in,” she said. She hurried out of the house and beckoned to Number Nine.
“Bring in the turn-style. From now on, you are the office boy, and I am your boss, as well as my own.”
“Yes, Boss,” the boy said meekly, and began to carry the rusty parts of the turn-style into the house.
Jenny and Number Nine put the turn-style together and set it up in the middle of the front room.
As soon as the last bolt had been put in place, and the turn-style stood all in one piece, the rust on it vanished. It shone with blue and yellow enamel, in the most modern design.
Now Jenny saw that its four arms, extending like the spokes of a wheel, were marked SIZE, COLOR, MATERIAL, STYLE. Along each arm was a row of buttons marked with various colors, materials, sizes, and styles.
Jenny touched the walls with her fairy fingers and rows of shelves appeared. Then she named the things she needed and the shelves became loaded with bolts of cloth of every color and material. A counter, equipped with wrapping paper, appeared at one end of the shop.
Jenny jumped with delight. She had a real Style
Shop.
But the office boy was fast asleep. Jenny grew angry. She jerked him out of his seat.
“Where are you going to live?” she asked him. The office boy yawned. “Ah-hum. With my Uncle, I suppose. He is an emerald cutter and has a shop on Pudding Place.”
The boy fell asleep on his feet. Such laziness would never do. Jenny pulled him around and ordered him
to make a sign for the shop—the biggest sign there ever was in Oz.
JENNY JUMP STYLIST
Number Nine shuffled out sleepily and returned a couple of hours later with some painting materials. He was cheerier now, for he had stopped and helped himself to six pineapple ozcream sodas and three banana nut sundaes at the public soda fountain. He was whistling loudly and tunelessly.
All the time that he worked at the sign, he kept whistling. His hands moved so slowly that Jenny lost her patience. Going to the shelf, she took down a bolt of cloth. With her fairy fingers she traced on it, and several yards cut themselves off.
There were no scissors, needle, or thread in the shop. Jenny did not need any. With her fairy fingers she outlined the design of a pair of breeches The cloth cut itself into that design. Then she ran her fairy fingers along the edges, and the cloth joined itself into seams.
Just before the seams were closed, Jenny reached into the air and caught a handful of the loud notes that the boy was whistling. She fastened the notes
into the seams of the breeches.
“Through the style you go,” she ordered her office boy. He jumped up willingly, pleased with the idea of owning a new pair of trousers.
No sooner had he gone through the turn-style, than he found himself clothed in the breeches that Jenny had just made. They extended around him like a balloon, with wide green stripes running down the outside seams. In these seams were fastened four shrill whistles-the same sounds he had just been whistling.
“Thanks, Boss. Now I think I’ll sit down and rest awhile,” said the boy.
“Just try resting during working hours,” said
Jenny.
When Number Nine lowered himself into his chair, the breeches whistled shrilly. The boy jumped up, slapping at the breeches. They went on whistling. He clapped his hands over two of the whistles, but the other two whistles only shrieked louder.
Jenny nodded with satisfaction. “Those whistlebreeches will remind you not to loaf. Now, hustle out and get yourself a drum and drum up some business.”
Number Nine hung his head and started up the
street. Whenever he stopped, the breeches whistled loudly. When he hurried, the breeches were less noisy.
So he hurried! CHAPTER 8 The Professor Ponders
PROFESSOR WOGGLEBUG, T.E., was passing out arithmetic pills to his class in the College of Art and Athletic Perfection. The college was situated in the blue Munchkin country, and the arithmetic pills made the scholars bluer than ever.
“Come, now,” the Professor scolded, “I invented these pills to make arithmetic painless.”
He pointed his antennae, which grew like two long hairs out of his forehead, at his pupils. The Professor was an extraordinary bug who had once escaped from under a magnifying glass. He had forever kept his magnified condition, and was many times bigger than an ordinary bug. Because he had learned a great deal while living under the fireplace in a schoolroom, he had given himself the degree of T.E., or Thoroughly Educated. The Professor was reaching into a bottle of history
pills.
“WHOA!” sounded outside the window. There was a clattering of hooves on the college steps. The Professor hastily distributed alphabet blocks
“Mind your P’s and Q’s while I examine the cause of this unseemly disturbance,” he said in his dignified voice.
Just then through the door clattered the Sawhorse of Oz carrying Jack Pumpkinhead, who had a note in his hand.
The scholars stood up to give the college yell of
welcome:
“Nix, nox Wear your sox; Take a pill
When your brain is still.
Punpkinhead, Pumpkinhead-Rah! Rah! Rah!” Jack nodded and grinned back at all of them.
“Good morning, Jack Pumpkinhead,” said the Professor when the cheer was ended. “Is that note for me?”
Jack Pumpkinhead kept on smiling. He did not stop smiling, for the smile was carved in his head. “Yes. Queen Ozma sent it to you.” The Professor took the note, and while he was
reading it, a scholar held out some leaves from a book for the Sawhorse to eat. But the wooden animal refused, “No, thank you. I’m never hungry.”
The Professor finished the note and said to the class, “I must go immediately to the Royal Palace. My enlightenment is needed on a matter in which Queen Ozma is in the dark. Take a dose of history pills, and then you are free to use the athletic equipment.”
He pointed to a fat little girl with blue pigtails. “You, Alma Mater, will report any backsliding.” The Professor gathered up his papers, his spectacles, and his cane, and mounted the Sawhorse behind Jack Pumpkinhead.
“Giddyup!” ordered Jack, and the Sawhorse galloped out.
They reached the palace, and the Sawhorse dashed directly through the halls to Ozma’s throne room. The walls of this room were of gold, with silver panels, inlaid with precious emeralds, rubies, and diamonds. The floor was a soft emerald green, and the throne was a solid carved emerald. On the throne sat Queen Ozma, clothed in shining white, with the green OZ crown as her only ornament. At her feet crouched two magnificent beast-the Cowardly Lion and the Hungry Tiger. And close
to her throne were her friends, Princess Dorothy, the Scarecrow, King of the Munchkins, the Tin Wood woodman, Emperor of the Winkies, and Glinda the Good Sorceress, Ruler of the Quadlings. As the Professor climbed down, the Sawhorse and Jack Pumpkinhead departed.
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