L. Frank Baum - Oz 19 Read online

  The Wizard had ruled Oz for years. At last, desiring to return to America, he had made the Scarecrow Emperor. This lively man of straw had held the throne until captured by an ambitious girl named Jinjur, and her army of girls. But Jinjur was only ruler for a few days and was herself captured by

  Glinda, the good sorceress of the South, to whom the scarecrow had gone for help. Glinda, looking through her magic record books, had discovered that Ozma, who had been deposed by the Wizard, was still in the old witch’s clutches. So Glinda had compelled her to restore Ozma to the throne. The witch had transformed the little Princess into a boy named Tip, but was forced by Glinda to disenchant her and amid general rejoicing Ozma was proclaimed Queen of Oz and had been ruler ever since, while the old witch had been deprived of her magic powers and banished from the Emerald City forever.

  The Wizard of Oz had later returned and become one of Ozma’s most trusted counselors, regretting exceedingly his part in giving her to the witch. As Snip listened, all of these facts went scurrying through his head, and while Professor Wogglebug in his history had neglected to put in the witch’s name, looking at the dreadful old woman beside him, Snip realized with a shudder that Mombi was that witch.

  It had been generally supposed that the King, Ozma’s father, had been utterly destroyed by Mombi’s magic, but if what Pajuka said were true, the King in some shape or other was still alive and the rightful ruler of Oz, while this faithful goose was his prime minister. Snip longed to run to Kinda Jolly with the amazing news and to warn him against Mombi herself, but the old hag had him fast by the wrist, so there was nothing to do but listen. Even this was becoming harder and harder, for Mombi and Pajuka had lowered their voices to a whisper. Just as Snip had determined to jerk away and make a run for it, Mombi sprang to her feet.

  “We’ll start at once!” she cried determinedly, and jerking off her cook’s cap and without releasing her hold on Snip, she snatched her peaked witch hat from a low cupboard and set it jauntily on the side of her head. Then, dragging Snip with her, she began hobbling about the kitchen, collecting pepper shakers, mustard boxes, spices, herbs and various other supplies from the shelves. These she tossed quickly into a basket with a loaf of bread, a cold chicken and some cheese.

  “C’mon!” croaked the witch, motioning to Pajuka. “C’mon before anyone misses us.

  “What about the boy?” asked the goose doubtfully.

  “Let him carry the basket,” snapped the witch.

  Thrusting the basket into Snip’s hands, Mombi gave him such a glare that the poor lad’s heart dropped into his boots. Then, grabbing him by the sleeve, she rushed him through the door leading into the kitchen garden. A high hedge surrounded the garden, so no one saw them go. The garden ran down to the edge of a gloomy forest. Into this forest plunged Mombi, Pajuka waddling and flying after her and poor Snip, casting many longing glances over his shoulder at the dear old castle of Kimbaloo where life had been so carefree and so merry.

  It is one thing to set out on a journey of adventures yourself, but to be dragged away against your will by a wicked old witch is another pair of pickles entirely, and though Snip was as brave as the next fellow he could not keep back his tears at parting from Kinda Jolly, Rosa Merry and his many gay comrades in the button wood.

  CHAPTER 3

  King Kinda Jolly Is Sad

  WHILE all this was happening in the King’s kitchen, Kinda Jolly sat cheerfully on his throne, talking to his pretty little Queen.

  “Rosa, my dear,” smiled Kinda, tugging at his silver whiskers, “guess what we’re going to have for dinner.”

  Rosa Merry, who was sewing a button on the King’s suspenders, paused with her needle in

  the air.

  “What does it begin with?” asked Rosa curiously. The Queen simply doted on a riddle.

  “With a G,” answered Kinda Jolly, leaning down to pat Trippsy, his pet foot stool, Trippsy is the only live footstool, I think, I have ever heard of. He followed Kinda wherever he went, which was fortunate, for the King’s legs were so short that no matter how low the chair or bench, his feet never touched the floor. In some ways Trippsy was a more useful pet than a dog. He never chased cats, nor got into fights, nor barked, except a few shins, so that Kinda Jolly was awfully fond of him.

  “Is it a goat?” giggled Rosa Merry, biting off her thread.

  “Goat!” sputtered Kinda Jolly. “I should say not! Trippsy, old boy, she says we’re going to have goat for dinner.” Trippsy, who had been to market with the King-Kinda being one of those dear old fashioned fellows who do their own marketing-waved his tassel faintly to show that he appreciated the joke, while General Whiffenpuff, the King’s body guard, and Hah Hoh, the Town Laugher burst into loud roars of merriment.

  “Guess again,” invited Kinda Jolly, putting his finger tips together, and beaming on his pretty

  wife.

  “Grapes, glue, gum drops?” ventured the Queen, puckering up her forehead. “Gravy, ginger, griddle cakes. I know, it’s griddle cakes!”

  “Grapes and glue and griddle cakes Will give us frightful stomach aches! Ginger, grapes and glue and gravy Oh, some kind doctor come and save ye!”

  That was the best that Hah Hoh could think of, but they all laughed so loud that seven little button boys stuck their heads in the window to see what all the fun was about.

  “Well, do you give it up?” asked Kinda, after Rosa had made seven more merry guesses.

  “Yes,” said the Queen, shaking her head till the curls flew out in every direction. “What is it?”

  “A goose!” puffed Kinda Jolly, settling back comfortably on his throne. “The finest, fattest goose you ever saw in your life. Cost me a thousand gold buttons,” he finished, smacking his lips and winking at General Whiffenpuff. The General, who was fonder of eating than of anything else, began to pat his stomach absently and Trippsy, though far too well stuffed to require food, gave a skip of satisfaction that nearly upset the King.

  “Roast goose and apple sauce,” mused Kinda, regaining his balance. “Yum-yum, Whiffen, old rascal, just step out to the pantry, and see how the dinner’s progressing. It’s high time our goose was cooked, and I for one am hungry as a hippogriff.” They were still laughing at Hah Hoh’s jokes, when Whiffenpuff returned, but one look at the General sobered them at once.

  “Guess what we’re going to have for dinner?” panted Whiffenpuff, very red in the face from his

  hurry.

  “What?” asked Rosa in surprise.

  “Nuthin’ ” gulped the General dolefully. “The dinner’s not going, it’s GONE! Our goose is hooked, tooked, crooked,” finished Whiffenpuff, forgetting his grammar entirely. (Of course, we have known this all along, but it was a great shock to the King.)

  “Gone!” gasped Kinda Jolly. “But where is Mombi?”

  “Gone too!”

  “To where?”

  Whiffenpuff shook his head glumly and immediately Rosa Merry, Kinda Jolly and all the rest rushed into the kitchen to see for themselves how gone everything was. Naturally enough they found neither Mombi nor Pajuka and, on the whole, this was most fortunate, for otherwise they might have eaten the Prime Minister of Oz and swallowed with him the whole of this story.

  “Our dinner began with a G and now it’s gone! Gone begins with a G. Our dinner is gone with a G! Shall I laugh?” asked Hah Hoh, beginning to tickle himself in the ribs.

  “I should say not. Why, this is no laughing matter. No cook! No goose! No dinner! Oh! I’m so disappointed I could cry!” choked Kinda Jolly, puffing out his cheeks.

  “Don’t do that! Don’t do that!” begged Rosa Merry, and tumbling off her high stool she sent a page flying for the Town Crier. I never told you there was one, but Kimbaloo has a Town Crier as well as a Town Laugher, for no one in that merry Kingdom ever thinks of shedding tears.

  So before one could wink the Town Crier came running in with a page, and when Whiffenpuff told him about the lost dinner, the lost goose and the lost cook, he s
imply burst into tears.

  “How long shall I cry?” he sobbed, looking around his handkerchief at Kinda Jolly.

  “Seven minutes for the goose and th-three for Mombi,” sniffed the King, biting his lip to keep from crying himself. So the Town Crier jerked out another hanky, and while all the rest stood around and looked solemn and Kinda held his watch, he wept eye after eye full of tears.

  “Do you feel better?” asked Rosa Merry presently, patting Kinda’s plump hand.

  “A little, a little,” acknowledged the King, “but do you s’pose Mombi’s gone for good?”

  “Well, I trust so,” sniffed the Town Laugher, shrugging his shoulders, “but I’m afraid she has gone for bad, your Majesty. A more evil appearing old wretch I’ve never seen in Oz, and perhaps we are well rid of her. Only a week ago I had a letter from a sixteenth cousin of mine in the Emerald City telling of a famous invisible cook who lived near her. Why not send for this invisible cook your Highness?”

  “That’s what we’ve got now, isn’t it?” put in General Whiffenpuff, gloomily, but Kinda’s eyes began to snap at the Town Laugher’s suggestion.

  “Why an invisible cook would be simply out of sight!” cried the King, motioning for the Town Crier to cease his lamentations. “Let us send for her at once!”

  “And meanwhile I’ll be cook,” smiled Rosa Merry, happy that everything was turning out so well. “Guess what we’re going to have for dinner?”

  “Omelet!” gulped the Town Crier, wringing out his handkerchiefs in a business-like fashion and immediately the rest began to guess this and then that till they were all as jolly as possible. But right in the midst of the merriment, in came ten little button boys to report the disappearance of Snip.

  “Snip gone,” groaned Kinda Jolly, clapping his hand to his head and falling back against the flour barrel. “Oh! This is the worst of all. Why he’s the brightest boy in Kimbaloo and the best button picker I’ve got. Cry! Cry some more, cry a lot!” wailed the poor King, shaking the Town Crier by the arm. So he did, and the Town Laugher had to blow his nose hard, to keep from crying himself, for Snip was a great favorite in the palace.

  As soon as the news got about, all the rest of the Kimbles came tumbling into the kitchen, and the two hundred and forty nine little button boys began to hug Kinda Jolly, and the two hundred and fifty little flower girls began to hug Rosa Merry. Trippsy, the pet foot stool, who loved Snip almost as much as Kinda Jolly, was so upset he dashed here and there till everyone else was that way, too, especially General Whiffenpuff. Altogether the confusion was terrific.

  “Wait!” grunted the General, picking himself up for the fifth time. “Wait! I will find them all!” Seizing his gun, and with never a thought of dinner, he plunged boldly out into the night to find Mombi, the goose, Snip and an invisible cook. After that things grew calmer, for the King had great confidence in Whiffenpuff. The boys and girls trooped back to their cottages and the rest sat down to a picnic supper out of the ice box.

  “Whiffenpuff will find ‘em, no fear,” whispered Hah Hoh, squeezing Kinda Jolly’s hand comfortingly, “and if he doesn’t just remember that I also have something up my sleeve!”

  “What is it?” asked the King mournfully, and as clearly as he could, for he had half a chicken sandwich in the other cheek.

  “A funny bone,” confided the Town Laugher, with so comical and important an expression that Kinda had to be thumped on the back to keep from choking.

  “A funny bone!” gasped the King, as he recovered his breath. “Let me see it, you rascal.”

  So the Town Laugher showed Kinda Jolly his left elbow and they both roared at the joke.

  CHAPTER 4

  In the Purple Forest

  SNIP thought of a great many things to tell Mombi as he was being dragged along through the forest, but she ran so far and so fast that by the time she stopped he was too bumped about and breathless to say any of them.

  “Now what?” puffed Pajuka, settling on the lowest branch of a purple pine.

  “Well, do you expect to find the King under the first tree we come to?” panted the old witch, dropping down on a stump and mopping her forehead with her apron. “Hand over that basket, you.” Before he could comply, Mombi had snatched the basket from Snip and, loosening her hold upon his arm, began rummaging among its contents till she found a small purple scroll. “Keep your eye on the boy,” ordered Mombi, snapping the scroll open, “and if he tries to escape nip off his nose, d’ye hear?”

  “Oh, I’m sure he wouldn’t do that,” said Pajuka, fluttering his wings. “He’d much rather come with us to find the King and share the reward, wouldn’t you lad?”

  Snip glanced fearfully around him. The shadows were growing longer and longer, and in the dim purple twilight the forest looked so grim and forbidding that he decided even bad company was better than none. So he shook his head and swallowing the lump in his throat resolved to make the best of things, and at the same time find out all he could about this mysterious affair.

  “What did I tell you,” clucked Pajuka, preening his feathers. “I shouldn’t be surprised if he’d be a great help to us, Mombi!”

  “Then let him begin by gathering some wood,” grunted Mombi, “and none of your tricks Snip my boy, or I’ll turn you to a muffin and eat you for breakfast.”

  “Is Snip your name?” asked Pajuka, waddling after the little button boy. Snip nodded and began slowly picking up twigs and putting them in a heap.

  “A heartless old wretch,” wheezed the goose, when they were out of ear shot. “Don’t mind her. She can no more turn you to a muffin than I can, but she is the only one who can help me find the King so we must humor her. Stick by me Snip and I’ll stick by you. Is it a bargain?” In the strange, silent forest, the white goose looked so big and friendly that Snip dropped his twigs and flung both arms around his neck.

  “I like you Pajuka,” said the little button boy, giving him a quick hug.

  “And I like you, Snip,” replied the goose, snuggling close to him. Then, as Mombi glanced up

  suspiciously, they both fell to gathering twigs and in a few moments had enough for a fine fire. Mombi was still poring over the scroll. Looking over her shoulder, Snip saw that it was a map of Oz-such a map as he had often seen in his geoziphy books at home. Mombi held the map close to her nose, for in the failing light it was hard to see anything.

  “If I could only remember! If I could only remember!” muttered Mombi, rocking backward and forward on the stump. “What did I do with the King? Where did I put him? What did I use-green magic or blue, word magic or number magic, fire magic or smoke magic? Can’t you remember anything?” She whirled in great exasperation upon Pajuka.

  “Well, not much,” sighed the goose, rubbing his head with his wing. “You see it was so long ago. I do remember we were in a small greenwood near where the Emerald City stands today when you changed me to a goose. But as you drove me away immediately, I never knew what became of the

  King.”

  “Then it was green magic!” cried Mombi, springing up exultantly. “We must go to the Emerald City and find that wood, for if the King was transformed by green magic he must be restored by green magic, and the only place where green magic takes effect is in and around the Emerald City. Once there I will doubtless remember everything,” chuckled Mombi. “If I don’t, I’ll just steal some of Ozma’s magic. I’ll steal the magic belt, restore the King to the throne and have my revenge for all these weary years. I’ll turn Ozma to a piano and thump her every day,” continued Mombi, rubbing her hands gleefully together. “I’ll turn everyone else in the palace to one object and then destroy that object

  “I object!” spluttered Pajuka, treading on the old witch’s toes in his excitement.

  “So will they,” grinned Mombi, showing her yellow tusks, “but it will do them no good. Don’t stand staring at me, simpleton. Light the fire.” Whirling upon Snip, Mombi raised her stick threateningly, and Snip, who had been staring with open mouth (for
he had never heard so much badness in his whole life) made haste to do as he was told.

  Mombi, still muttering and chuckling, began to lay out the chicken and cheese upon the tree stump. Though the fire snapped merrily enough, supper was not very cheerful for Snip, but he ate the chicken wing and small bit of cheese that Mombi grudgingly gave him and broke up some bread for Pajuka.

  “Where’ve you been all these years?” asked the old witch, looking curiously at the goose over her mug of coffee.

  “Everywhere, everywhere in Oz, searching for you and the King,” puffed Pajuka. “I’ve lived with miserable barnyard fowls, eating farmer’s scraps, and in constant danger of the ax. You might have made me a wild goose, then at least I should have had some fun. I shudder when I think how near I’ve been to roasting.”

  “Well, didn’t they roast you in the old days?” replied Mombi unfeelingly. “Prime ministers are as often roasted as geese!”

  “Yes, but not in the same way.” Pajuka rolled his eyes sadly at Snip.

  “Why didn’t you tell Ozma or Glinda on her,” asked the little button boy boldly.