"Stop," cried Jack Pumpkinhead desperately. "Stop! You must help me." But Jack might as well have tried to stop the wind. With a shrill cry, the Red Jinn's slave vanished. Jack also vanished. Now, there was no one in the pink hay field at all. Only a pink rabbit, who wiggled his nose anxiously and then began nibbling at a stalk of celery that had fallen from the magic tray.
CHAPTER 16
In the Palace of the Red Jinn
In about three whirls and one spiral Jack found himself on the steps of a glittering red glass palace. It stood on the edge of a green glass sea, whose waves broke with a melodious tinkle and crash on the beach below. The beach itself was a gleaming stretch of glass splinters, most dangerous to the tread of unwary travellers. Jack was so confounded by his sudden arrival in this strange place that for several moments he was scarcely aware that the slave of the bell was addressing him.
"Be pleased to enter the castle of the Red Jinn," murmured the little black boy politely, repeating the words till Jack at last did hear him.
"Is the owner of this palace also the owner of the magic dinner bell?" asked Jack uneasily. The slave nodded brightly and after an inquisitive glance at Jack's broken leg which he still carried under his arm, he offered his shoulder to Jack. With his assistance, Jack began hopping doubtfully upward. There were nearly a hundred steps, and moving up and down was a vast and colorful company of turbaned gentlemen, who might have stepped directly from the Arabian Nights. As each one passed he took off his slipper and tapped Jack smartly on the head.
"What, what have I done?" stuttered Jack, trying to protect his head with his arm. "Why do they strike me and why do they smile as they do it?"
"It is the custom in this country to take off the right shoe and tap a visitor upon the head as a polite method of salutation and greeting," explained the slave calmly.
"Greeting," groaned Jack, ducking back to avoid another slipper waver, "well, if we meet many more of your countrymen my head will be a squash instead of a pumpkin. Why can't they shake hands, like we do in Oz?"
"Every country has its own customs," answered the slave stiffly. "Why do you wear such a soft head, pray?"
"Because I'm accustomed to it," replied Jack a little sulkily. "It's the kind of head that goes with my kind of person."
"A turban would help," observed the slave as another citizen greeted Jack boisterously with his slipper.
"I don't need a turban," said Jack, hopping desperately up the last step. "But I do need help. My friends have disappeared into an enchanted sack and my country is in danger of destruction. I must have help. Do you think your master is powerful enough to help me?"
"It depends on how you strike him," murmured the slave indifferently. "There he is now. You might ask him." The glass doors of the palace were wide open, and Jack looked anxiously into the great red glass throne room. The doorways and arches were hung with strands of strung glass triangles and the musical tinkle of these strange curtains was both pleasant and delicate. All of the furnishings were of sparkling red glass and a double line of tall vases led directly to the throne. A strange drowsy incense rose in pink clouds to the ceiling. At first Jack thought the Jinn was merely another vase, but as with the black boy's aid he hopped nearer, he saw that the vase-like figure on the throne had legs crossed on the spun glass cushions and hands clasped round his fat and shiny middle. No head was visible; nothing but a lid with a round knob on the top. A sleepy black wielded a great fan drowsily over this portly person, and Jack after pausing uncertainly took the leg he still carried under his arm and tapped the Jinn sharply on the lid. Instantly it raised up and from the vase-like interior of this strange sovereign rose an enormous red head with an exceedingly pleasant, round face. He blinked curiously at Jack and then turning to the slave wheezed good naturedly, "Well, well! Ginger, my boy, what have you brought me this time? I am delighted that our bell was stolen. It keeps us in touch with the outside world and has already got us two extra slaves. But this one is the best yet." He looked Jack up and then down. "I haven't been so amused in a thousand years."
"Don't you want the bell back?" asked Jack, holding it out uneasily. He had expected the Jinn to be very angry at the holder of his magic treasure.
"No! No! Keep it and welcome! Just to look at you is worth a hundred dinner bells," said the Jinn, smothering a chuckle behind his fat hand. "An odd enough appearing gentleman, Ginger, is he not? And so polite! Where we but remove the slipper he has taken off the entire leg to do us honor. Tell me, who and what are you, most curious sir?"
"You struck him exactly right," whispered the slave encouragingly. "Speak up and he may help you."
"I am Jack Pumpkinhead, your Majesty," said Jack, balancing himself with great difficulty, "and a simple citizen of Oz."
"I believe you," puffed the Jinn and forthwith broke into such a series of strange sounds that Jack drew back in dismay.
"What language is that?" he asked in a faint voice. "I do not seem to understand your Majesty's remarks." The Red Jinn's lid, which he wore quite jauntily for a hat, was still quivering, but controlling himself with a great effort he wiped his face on a red silk hanky.
"'Tis the laugh language, Jack," he confided with a wink at the little slave. "The ha, ha, and ho, ho, of great merriment. Do you not speak this language in your country, fellow? The guffaw and the snicker, the giggle and roar of pure hilarity! Ho! Ho! You are doing me good, great good! Come join me in a little roar and we'll speak the laugh language in all its branches."
"But I do not feel like laughing," said Jack wearily. "I have lost my best friends and will lose my country too, if your Highness does not help me. Are you very powerful? Are you important enough to help me?"
"Terribly important," answered the Jinn, pursing up his lips. "At least to myself." He nudged the slave of the bell, who nodded delightedly, and Jack, without further parley, held up the pirate's sack.
"In this bag," said Jack solemnly, "are a little boy, a baron and a flying red monster."
"No?" murmured the Jinn leaning forward incredulously. "How did they get in the bag? How will they get out again and if they stay in an age will they become baggage? Ha! Ha! Ho! Ho!" The Red Jinn's mirth was extremely distressing to poor Jack, but feeling that everything depended upon the wizard's help, he smothered his resentment and patiently told the whole story of his adventures since Peter's arrival in Oz. As he proceeded the Jinn's expression grew more sober and at the conclusion of the story he clapped his hands sharply. Immediately Jack's broken leg snapped back into place, and with a surprised skip, Jack began marching up and down.
"That is the first step toward helping you," smiled the Jinn, holding up his hand to silence Jack's outburst of gratitude. "Now we must find a way to send you to Oz, release the prisoners from the sack and break the forbidden flagon without disaster to yourself. My magic looking-glass would show us where your friends are but not how to rescue them, my magic umbrella would carry you to Oz, but I need that myself. Let me think! Let me think!" Wrinkling his brows, the Red Jinn retired into himself and shut the lid.
"Will he come out again?" asked Jack, turning nervously to the little slave. The slave nodded impressively. So Jack, fixing his eyes earnestly on the Jinn's red lid, waited for him to reappear. And presently his head popped up and with snapping eyes he leaned forward. First he whispered nine words in Jack's carved ear and next, eight more. Then, leaning back, he regarded Jack with a pleased and satisfied smile.
"Now all we have to do is to arrange for your journey to Oz," said the Jinn, tapping his fingers upon the arm of his glass throne. "I believe I'll send you off in my Jinrickasha. Would you like that?"
"Why he's gone," shouted Ginger, leaping into the air. "Gone! Vanished! Departed!"
"So he has," spluttered the Jinn, lurching forward and rubbing his eyes with astonishment.
"Was it by your Majesty's magic?" queried the Slave of the Bell breathlessly.
"Not by my Majesty's magic, but some other meddlesome magic. Hash and horseradish! Now I shall never hear the end of the story!" Pulling in his head so suddenly that the lid came down with a crash, the Red Jinn dropped back on his cushions, and the little slave, having experienced the extreme of his master's temper when disappointed, tip-toed hurriedly from the royal presence. What had become of our hero? Who had spirited Jack Pumpkinhead away from the palace of the Red Jinn?
CHAPTER 17
The Capture of the Emerald City
In that delightful hour before dinner, when it is too early to go in and light the lamps and too late to go for another picnic or swim, it is a pleasant custom in Ozma's palace to gather in the garden for games. Almost any fine evening at dusk, if you were to peep over the wall of the green castle, you would see all the celebrities and most of the courtiers playing hop scotch or prisoner's base. The ruler of Oz, as most of you know, is a little girl fairy and Ozma is quite as fond of fun and good times as you are. Dorothy, Betsy and Trot, Ozma's best friends and advisers are little girls too, so that life in the Emerald City is bound to be interesting and gay. And how could it be otherwise, with so many unusual and amusing people living in the palace?
The Scarecrow spends most of his time there, though he has a splendid residence of his own, and for fun and good comradeship there is no one like this jolly straw-stuffed gentleman. He was lifted from a pole and brought to the Emerald City by Dorothy on her first journey to Oz. Dorothy, herself, was blown to Oz in a cyclone and has had so much fun and so many adventures that she would not think of living anywhere else. Betsy and Trot are from the United States, too, but prefer life in the Emerald City to life in America, as indeed I should myself. Almost everybody has heard of Tik Tok, the copper man. Tik Tok is not alive, but very lively and when properly wound can walk, talk and run as well as anybody.
Justly famous, is the Tin Woodman. Whole books have been written about him, for Nick Chopper is Emperor of the Winkies and almost any child in Oz can tell you the strange story of Nick and the enchanted ax that chopped off his arms and legs, severed his trunk and finally chopped off his head. After each accident, Nick had himself repaired by a tin smith, till he was entirely a man of tin, and like the Scarecrow he spends more than half his time in the capitol. Then we must not forget Sir Hokus, a real Knight, who was rescued after seven centuries of imprisonment in Pokes. Now where, but in Oz, could a Knight last for seven centuries, and be so spry, so bold and so full of interesting stories? Where, but in Oz, could one find a Wizard able to whisk one about with magic wishing pills and conjure up Ozcream and pop-overs by a mere puff of magic powder?
Another prime favorite in the palace is Scraps. Made from an old patchwork quilt and magically brought to life, Scraps adds a touch of fun and gaiety to all the palace parties, for Scraps is wholly without dignity and can think up verses faster than little boys can think up excuses. The Soldier with the Green Whiskers is a fine fellow, too. He is the whole grand army of Oz, and though not very brave has such a splendid uniform and long shining green beard, just to look at him gives one pleasure and satisfaction. Recently a live statue and a medicine man have come to Ozma's court. The medicine man's chest is a real medicine chest, full of helpful remedies and although no one in the Emerald City ever falls ill Ozma has graciously conferred upon Herby the title of Court Doctor. Add to all of these famous characters the Cowardly Lion, the Hungry Tiger and a dozen other strange pets, fifty or more splendid courtiers and servants and you will have a fair idea of the merry company romping in the garden on this early evening in May.
Dorothy had just won an exciting foot race and sinking into a green hammock called gaily to the Scarecrow, "Let's play blind-man's buff and blind-fold everyone but Betsy Bobbin. Then we'll all try to find her and first one who does shall have three pieces of strawberry short cake!"
"A lot of good that will do me," sighed the Scarecrow, patting his straw stuffed stomach, "but if I win, you shall have my cake, Dorothy."
"You'll never win," teased Betsy, beginning to hop up and down with impatience. "None of you will. Remember now, Wizard, no fair using magic to find me."
"Haven't a bit of magic with me. My black bag's inside," laughed the little Wizard of Oz, fitting a big green handkerchief around his head. In less than a minute, Ozma and everyone in the garden was blind-folded. Even the Cowardly Lion had Dorothy's hair ribbon tied securely over his eyes.
"All ready," called Betsy, and tip-toeing over to an enormous butterfly bush, she climbed into the center and sat still as a mouse. But the others were very far from still. With shouts, screams and little roars of merriment they ran to and fro, bumping into each other and throwing their arms around trees and statues and making so much noise that they never heard the tramp of feet on the other side of the wall. For Mogodore had at last arrived in the Emerald City, and with a rush and without opposition, captured the famous fairy capitol. At sight of his spearmen, the peaceful inhabitants fled into their houses and slammed windows and doors. Unk Nunkie, a brave old Munchkin who had started on a run to warn the people in the palace, was caught by Bragga, tied up securely and carelessly tossed into a greenberry bush. Shirley Sunshine, who had leaped from her horse for the very same reason, was overtaken and put under guard.
With shouts, screams, and little roars of merriment, they ran to and fro.
"A fine way to help," muttered Mogodore, shaking his finger at her accusingly. "What were you about Princess?"
"I was anxious to see the castle," stuttered poor Shirley, twisting her handkerchief miserably.
"You'll see it soon enough," promised Mogodore. "Just wait till I've conquered this silly little fairy." About forty paces from the castle itself Mogodore dismounted and called a council of war. Leaving five hundred men to hold the city he took five hundred with him to storm the palace and overcome the famous celebrities whom he had read about so often. Shirley Sunshine was left behind until the fighting should be over. Mogodore and his five hundred picked soldiers marched boldly upon the castle.
"High time for a new King here," sniffed Mogodore scornfully. "A city without defenses! No army! No guards! What can they expect but capture?"
"There may be an army inside the castle walls," warned Wagarag, jogging wearily along at the baron's elbow. "Before we rush the gates we had better look about a bit and see that everything is safe."
"Very good," grunted Mogodore, taking a pinch of snuff. "You and I will go forward. The others may remain here. My spear tossed into the air will be the signal for them to advance." It was a short walk to the walls of the palace, and hoisting himself with great gasps and puffs the Baron of Baffleburg raised his head cautiously over the top of the wall and looked down into the royal gardens. What he saw astonished him exceedingly, and with a soundless chuckle he dropped to the ground. "The silly dunces are playing a game," whispered Mogodore to his trembling steward. "They're blind-folded and all we have to do is to jump over the wall and seize them."
Tossing his spear into the air, Mogodore waited impatiently for his men and when they came hurrying forward, he raised his hand for silence. "Drop over the wall, one at a time, join in this game of blind-man's buff. Each man take one prisoner and tie him to the nearest tree. When all are taken, I will march into the palace, seize the crown jewels and magic belt and proclaim myself King of Oz. All ready." With only a slight scraping of boots on the stones, Mogodore and his men slipped over the wall and into the garden. Betsy Bobbin, sitting breathlessly in the center of the butterfly bush, became suddenly aware of a change in the gay uproar around her. The joyous shouts and good natured exclamations turned to frightened screams and indignant protests and finally to loud shouts for help.
"What can have happened?" gasped Betsy, poking her head out of the bush. What she saw, as you can well imagine, made her sink back in a faint heap. The garden was swarming with armed warriors and Ozma and all of her friends and courtiers were tied to the trees with gold chains and struggling in vain to free themselves.
"I am the only one left," panted Betsy. "I must try to slip out unnoticed and get the magic belt!" In this famous belt, as most of you know, there is such power that the wearer can transform anyone to any shape at all. "I'll turn them to old shoes and door knobs," sobbed Betsy, with another frightened peek out of the bush. The chances of her reaching the palace were slim indeed and finally she gave up all hope, but she could not help feeling proud of the way Ozma of Oz was conducting herself.
"What does this mean?" demanded the little fairy, tearing the bandage from her eyes and stamping her foot as well as she could with so many chains around her ankles. "Who are you and what do you want? Release us at once, or my Wizard and my Army will destroy you!"
"Ho! Ho! ho!" roared Mogodore, looking cheerfully down at the furious Princess. "Hand over the keys of the castle my dear, for you are completely conquered and absolutely captured. I, Mogodore the Mighty and Baron of Baffleburg, am the future King of Oz!"
"I'll crown you with my fist," sputtered Sir Hokus, tugging at his chains till the tree he was tied to rocked as if by a tempest. "I'll thump thee on the bean." (Sir Hokus has picked up a lot of slang from Trot and Betsy Bobbin and mixes it fluently with his knightly conversation).
yelled Scraps defiantly, and all the other celebrities joined their voices to hers, till the din was so dreadful that even Betsy had to cover her ears. But it had no effect upon Mogodore. Quite calmly he continued to gaze down at Ozma and the longer he looked the broader grew his ugly grin.
"A little beauty," he mumbled half to himself, "prettier far than this Shirley Sunshine. I shall marry Princess Ozma," he shouted, suddenly clapping Wagarag so heartily upon the back that the poor steward's iron pot helmet fell over one eye. "Into the palace, fellow, and prepare a feast for the wedding! Farewell for the moment, slaves!"
"A little beauty," he mumbled, "far prettier than Shirley Sunshine."
Shaking his spear at the furiously struggling Ozites, Mogodore tramped off to the palace, followed by two hundred and fifty of his men. The others he left to watch the prisoners, and Betsy continued to crouch uncomfortably in the butterfly bush. As the Baron of Baffleburg strode into the castle, Ozma began to speak quietly and comfortingly to her people.
"For the moment," sighed the little sovereign sadly, "we are overpowered and at the mercy of these rude ruffians. But let us be patient and brave and surely some help will come to us."
"I hope there will be no shooting," quavered the Soldier with the Green Whiskers, trembling so his chains rattled dismally.
"If I only had my black bag," fumed the Wizard, trying desperately to free himself. From the screams and crashes indoors, the anxious company in the garden knew that the servants were being overpowered. Presently a long file of them came out between two lines of Mogodore's men, who marched them to a small summer house and carefully locked them in.
"I hope they don't find the magic belt," breathed Dorothy, wriggling into a more comfortable position and trying to smile reassuringly at the Scarecrow who was tied to the next tree. But even while Dorothy was hoping, out dashed Mogodore waving the belt. His helmet had been removed and Ozma's small emerald crown perched ridiculously upon the top of his head.
"I beg that your Majesty will be careful," cried Wagarag, running anxiously after the excited baron. "Remember that belt is very powerful, very dangerous. Have a care."
"I haven't a care in the world," shouted Mogodore, fastening the belt round his arm, for it would not begin to go 'round his waist. "Am I not a King and about to marry a fairy? Go play marbles, Waggy, and let me alone! I am a King and if I choose can destroy this entire country." And then as Wagarag continued to plead and beg him to be cautious he yelled angrily, "Go, attend to the feast, you meddlesome weasel and leave this magic to me. I shall test the powers of this belt at once. Do you know that I can transform anyone here to anything I wish? Begone, before I turn you to a bone and throw you to the dogs." Now indeed did the helpless Oz folk tremble, and as Wagarag, shaking his head sadly, backed away from his foolish master, Mogodore began to look around the garden for someone to transform. Perhaps, because the Patchwork Girl was the oddest and most amazing person he had ever seen, his eye rested longest upon her.
"I command this ridiculous maiden to become a bird," called Mogodore in a loud voice. And instantly, Scraps was a bird, an exceedingly scrappy bird, too. Wildly flapping her patchwork wings she quickly disengaged herself from the gold chains that bound her to the tree. Then swooping down upon Mogodore, she snatched Ozma's crown from his head and hurled herself into the air.
"Quick! Quick! Change her back! I knew you'd do something silly," groaned Wagarag, as Mogodore stared dumbly upward. "Now she'll fly off and spread the alarm!"
"You bet I will," screeched the Patchwork Bird, and with an ear-splitting screech she soared over the castle and disappeared.
"I told you something would happen," whispered Ozma, smiling quietly at Dorothy. Now if Mogodore had been more practiced in magic, he would instantly have changed Scraps into a stone and she would have dropped heavily and helplessly to earth. But utterly confused and mortified by the unfortunate outcome of his first transformation, the baron pushed his steward furiously aside, rushed into the castle and slammed both gold doors.
CHAPTER 18
Mogodore Meets More Magic
Soon the fragrance of an appetizing repast began to float out to the unhappy prisoners in the garden. Dusk turned to darkness, lights shone from every room in the palace, and in dreadful suspense and discomfort they waited for Mogodore's next move.
"That robber baron really means to marry you," groaned Trot, who was tied to a tree near Ozma, and as if to confirm her words two spearmen came marching determinedly toward them.
"Her Majesty, Queen Ozma is wanted within," bawled the first man, looking around. "Ozma of Oz, this way please." Immediately the little fairy was released from her chains.
"Never mind," she whispered as Trot burst into tears, "remember, Scraps is free and will find a way to help us."
"She'd better hurry," shivered Dorothy, and with sinking hearts they all saw their little leader marched away between the guards. Well-filled plates were being brought out to the soldiers in the garden, but no refreshment of any kind was offered to the prisoners, nor did Betsy Bobbin, crouched in the center of the butterfly bush, find any opportunity to escape from her hiding place. Inside a great feast was laid in the banquet hall and the rude warriors were already seated and banging on the table with their gold forks and knives. Wagarag, an apron tied hastily over his armor, was supervising the festivities and Mogodore, seated at the head of the table, without even rising waved Ozma to a place beside him. With a little sigh of despair, Ozma slipped into the green throne chair.
"Your future Lady in Waiting," grunted Mogodore, pointing rudely to Shirley Sunshine, who sat on his other side. "I did truly intend to marry this Princess, but find you so much more charming I have chosen you instead."
"Hurrah for the Queen of Oz and Baffleburg!" yelled the spearmen boisterously. Shirley, under cover of the rattling knives and forks tried to whisper her story to Ozma, but Mogodore's loud roars for food soon put an end to that and, pale with distaste and fright, the two little Princesses sat silent, scarcely touching a mouthful of the food that was unceremoniously dumped upon their plates. With a shudder, Ozma looked around her tidy castle. Mud had been tracked over all the velvet rugs, pictures hung sideways and the floor was strewn with broken vases and plates that spearmen playfully hurled at one another between courses. If Scraps succeeded in reaching the castle of Glinda, the good Sorceress who ruled over the South, Ozma knew this powerful ally would immediately fly to her assistance. With agonized ears, she listened for the wings of Glinda's swan chariot. But time went on and no one came. Now that the hunger of the rough company was appeased, they grew more noisy than ever.
"Call this a battle," wheezed Bragga to Mogodore, "are there to be no hangings, no bon fires, no killings of any kind? You promised us a real war. This is as tame as a taffy pull." Tugging discontentedly at his long mustache, the Captain of the Guard looked sulkily at his chief.
"After the wedding you may kill whom you please," promised Mogodore indifferently, "but now I'm going to have another try at that magic belt."
"Take care! Take care!" bleated Wagarag, from the other end of the banquet hall. "I'll wager you're thinking of that forbidden flagon again."
"Right," boomed the baron, sweeping a dozen plates to the floor with his arm. "And right now, I'm going to transport that flagon to this castle and find out what is in it and why it is forbidden. What will happen if the seal is broken? It cannot harm me now. I am no longer Baron of Baffleburg, but King of OZ—King by right of seizure and conquest."
"You'll not be the lawful King till you marry this Princess," quavered Wagarag, raising a trembling finger and pointing to Ozma.
"The old bone is right," grumbled Bragga. "Why not marry her now and be done with it?"
"Marry her now," echoed all the spearmen, "and let us get on with the killing." Pushing back her chair, Ozma jumped up and glanced desperately around the table. Would no one save her from this robber baron and his band? Mogodore, too, rose to his feet.
"I'm King now, I tell you," he insisted stubbornly, "and I'll marry when I'm ready, but now I am going to end the miserable mystery of the forbidden flagon. I command the forbidden flagon and its guard to appear before me," bellowed Mogodore, staring around defiantly. Scarcely had the sound of his voice died away before there came a crash and splinter of glass and in through a window back of the baron burst a strange flying figure. It was Jack Pumpkinhead, clasping the precious flagon in one hand and holding to his head with the other; brought all the way from the Red Jinn's palace by the mysterious power of the magic belt. With a hysterical little cry, Ozma rushed forward.
"Jack! Jack!" panted Ozma, "have you come to save us?" Solemnly Jack nodded and before a man at the table could move, he whisked off his head, set it on a chair and then and not till then did he hurl the forbidden flagon straight at the Baron of Baffleburg. How he ever managed to aim so true without his head to help him I have no idea, but with a resounding crack the flagon splintered to bits on Mogodore's nose and a thin red liquid began to pour down his cheeks and drop off his chin.
No longer need Mogodore wonder what would happen, when the seal on the forbidden flask was broken! For what would happen, had happened! Stars! Yes!
CHAPTER 19
The Forbidden Flagon Acts
The great banquet hall seemed suddenly deserted, and except for faint squeaks and muffled screams quite silent. Shirley Sunshine, hurrying around the table, clasped Ozma's hands and both girls stared in stunned silence at Jack, who was calmly replacing his head.
"Why, where have they gone?" cried Ozma. Then all at once she saw, for tumbling from the chairs, scurrying under tables and vainly trying to hide themselves, was a host of men no bigger than brownies.
"They're shrunk," shouted Jack delightedly. "Ha there, Mogodore the Mighty, mighty little you are now!" Fuming and raging, the midget baron tried to quiet his frightened retainers, but when Toto, Dorothy's little dog, came bounding through the doorway, he fled ignominiously and hid behind the hearth broom.
"Good dog Toto, drive them in the corner," approved Jack and Toto, much as a shepherd dog chases sheep, drove the terrified horde of invaders into a corner and gravely sat down to watch them, snapping at any who tried to escape and snuffing at one and then another most curiously.
"It was the forbidden flagon," explained Jack, as Ozma dropped into a chair and looked in complete bewilderment at the brownie baron and his band. "Is anyone hurt? Did I come in time?"
"Yes! Yes!" sighed Ozma, pushing back her tumbled curls. "But how did you know? Where have you been, Jack dear?"
"Where haven't I been," puffed Jack Pumpkinhead, striding excitedly up and down. "Say, what's that noise? Where is everybody?"
"Oh!" cried Ozma, jumping up hurriedly. "The others are in the garden. We must free them at once." But before Shirley Sunshine, Ozma or Jack were halfway to the door it burst open, and the whole company of courtiers and celebrities came charging into the banquet hall.
"Surrender, villains," bellowed Sir Hokus, glaring around furiously. "Where is that braggart Baron!"
exulted Scraps, shaking her cotton fists joyfully, for she had been immediately restored to her own cheerful self by the Good Sorceress of the South. Glinda, in her lovely red robes and head-dress, peered sternly over Scraps' shoulder, ready to bring her strongest magic into play. Seeing no one in the room but Ozma, Jack and Shirley Sunshine, they all stopped short; then catching sight of Mogodore and his midgets, cowering in the corner, they surged forward in still greater astonishment.
"What happened?" demanded Dorothy, seizing Ozma's hands. "The spearmen in the garden suddenly disappeared. Scraps reached Glinda's castle and Glinda came and released us. But whatever happened in here? How did that monster grow so tiny?"
"Perhaps Jack can tell you," sighed Ozma, who was as puzzled as anyone over the curious occurrences of the last few minutes.
"I can," announced Jack, stepping forward importantly, "but it is a long, long story."
"Then do let's sit down," groaned Trot, for she was mortally tired from the long stand in the garden.
"Are we saved?" quavered the Cowardly Lion, as the stiff and weary company fell into the chairs so recently vacated by the conquerors of Oz. Jack nodded emphatically.
"Then I will attend to the prisoners," boomed the Soldier with the Green Whiskers, springing out from behind a pillar, and very brave since the enemy had been reduced. Striding over to the corner, he stood over the disconsolate warriors, his gun sternly pointed downward. Now Betsy picked up the magic belt from the floor, where it had fallen when Mogodore shrunk, and fastened it thankfully round Ozma's waist. Scraps set the emerald crown upon her curly head, and with great gentleness and ceremony the Scarecrow and Tin Woodman conducted the little ruler to her rightful place at the head of the table. Then the Scarecrow ran out to release the servants, who were locked up in the summer house, the Wizard ran to see if his black bag was safe, Trot wound up Tik Tok, who was completely run down by his terrible experiences, and everybody settled back expectantly to hear what Jack Pumpkinhead had to say.
"Now tell us exactly what happened," begged Betsy Bobbin, as the Scarecrow and all the servants came marching into the dining hall and the Wizard, tightly clutching his black bag, slipped into a seat beside Dorothy.
"Well," said Jack, with a dignified little cough, "before I begin to tell you that, there is something I must do and three brave comrades to be released from an enchantment. The advice of my friend, the Red Jinn, worked once and I shall therefore try it again."
"Before he speaks he must act," chuckled the Scarecrow, who had completely recovered his good humor. "Well, my boy, actions speak louder than words." Leaning on both elbows, the Scarecrow looked on with great interest as Jack snatched the pirate sack from his shoulder, turned it inside out and gave it three quick shakes.
CHAPTER 20
The Wedding Feast
"Is it a nightmare?" shivered Betsy, clutching Trot's arm, "or a Hallowe'en party? Am I really here, and are they?" And well might she ask, for the last shake of the pirate's sack had filled the room with Fraid Cats and Scares. Screaming, groaning snatching at one another and the Oz folk, the Scares swarmed this way and that, until the confusion was terrible.
"Actions speak louder than words," mumbled the Scarecrow. "Well, I do not like their actions at all. Call these comrades, friend Jack? Help! Begone! Away with you!" Jumping up the Scarecrow waved his napkin wildly around his head, and all the others, hastily pushing back their chairs, rushed to the assistance of Ozma, who was completely surrounded by the ugly intruders. Jack Pumpkinhead was so stunned and startled by this unexpected happening that he stood perfectly still. Then, resolved to go through with the matter, he shook the sack three times more and this time with the desired result.
"Why it's Peter!" roared Sir Hokus, disentangling himself from ten Scares and hurrying over to the little boy who had just tumbled out of the sack. "Peter, the pitcher—and—" Thumping Scares both left and right, the Good Knight looked doubtfully at the Iffin and Belfaygor, who had rolled out of the bag after Peter himself. "Who are these?" muttered Sir Hokus, making ready to whack the great red monster if it showed signs of attack.
"Don't mind us," begged the Iffin, glaring around the banquet hall. "Keep working! Keep working. I'll help you!" And help he did, with teeth, tail and claw.
"Where am I? How did I get here? How did they get here?" muttered Peter, rubbing his eyes dizzily and trying to collect himself, for he remembered nothing since he had been swallowed by the sack. But he soon recovered, and fighting his way through the frenzied crowd till he reached Ozma's side, cried excitedly. "They're Scares, your Highness. Quick! Send them back to Scare City, before they break everything to pieces!" Glinda and the Wizard had already started an incantation to rid the castle of the horrible horde, but before it was half spoken, Ozma, without waiting for Peter to explain, arose and in a slightly trembling voice called, "I command these people and creatures to return to Scare City at once." And at once, and all together they did. And now straightening their collars and settling their ties, for the encounter had been rough and furious, the Oz folk gazed at Peter and his comrades as curiously as they had gazed upon their pigmy conquerors and the unlovely citizens of Scare City.
"If someone will just explain," said Ozma. "Everything's so terribly mixed up."
"If someone doesn't explain, I shall burst," declared Betsy Bobbin, bouncing out of her chair. "Have you come back to stay, Peter dear, and who are these others?" Peter was a bit breathless and confused himself and looked anxiously around for the baron. But Belfaygor had slipped off unnoticed with Shirley Sunshine.
"Well this," began Peter, placing his hand on the red monster's head, "this is Snif, an Iffin, I mean a Griffin."
ventured Scraps, putting her finger in the corner of her mouth.
replied the Iffin, with a wink at the Patchwork Girl, and this little exchange of verses relieved the strain that the whole company had been under.
"Shall I tell the story, or will you?" whispered Jack Pumpkinhead, stepping closer to Peter.
"You," begged Peter, staring with round eyes at Mogodore and his little men.
"They've been eating shrinking violets," muttered the Iffin, rubbing his eyes with one paw and staring even harder than Peter.
"No, it was the flagon," explained Jack, "the forbidden flagon reduced them to midgets. But what became of Belfaygor's beard!"
"It disappeared into the magic sack," grinned Belfaygor, coming into the room at that moment with the little Princess on his arm. "And glad I am that it's gone. I'll never wear another beard as long as I live."
"Beard," put in the Soldier with the Green Whiskers eagerly, "did you have a beard as long and splendid as mine?"
"Did I!" groaned the baron, rolling his eyes to the ceiling. "Ask Peter!" Taking another look at the Soldier with Green Whiskers, he shuddered and turned away. "You remind me of something I'm trying to forget," said Belfaygor.
Now all of this only served to increase the interest and curiosity of the already curious company. "Tell us! Tell us!" cried Dorothy impatiently. So, after Belfaygor and Shirley Sunshine had been properly introduced, Jack Pumpkinhead began the strange story of their journey from Scare City to Baffleburg and from Baffleburg to Swing City and his own transportation to the capitol. And while he spoke, the footmen and other servants moved quietly about, sweeping up broken glass, clearing away the table and removing all traces of the rude baron's short reign in the palace. Guarded over by Toto and the Soldier with Green Whiskers, Mogodore and his men crouched miserably together, wondering what would become of them. Being merciless themselves, they expected no mercy from their captors. In small hoarse voices, they berated Mogodore for meddling with the forbidden flagon and bitterly denounced him for the terrible misfortune that had overtaken them. The rest of the midgets had been discovered and marched in from the garden and soon after word had been sent out through the city that the baron was captured, Unc Nunkie and his nephew Ojo arrived, driving the rest of the baron's tiny warriors and horses before them, so that the entire army were now rounded up in the corner of the banquet hall. But so intent was the company upon Jack's amazing story they scarcely heard the grumbling and complaining of the little men or the frightened neighs of the toy-size steeds.
In the kitchen another banquet was soon under way, more and more candles were lighted and soon the castle began to reflect its old time cheer and friendliness. Little gasps and exclamations of astonishment punctuated Jack's recital and he had to tell over and over how they had escaped from Baffleburg, how Snif had dwindled down when he ate the shrinking violet; how Belfaygor's enchanted beard had helped them out of difficulty and how the mischievous pirate sack had swallowed three of the company, when they were needed most of all. Peter, Belfaygor and Snif were as interested as the others in Jack's visit to the Red Jinn and in the advice that jolly wizard had given.
"You remember the label on the forbidden flagon said that whoever broke the seal would bring a disaster upon his own head?" said Jack, turning to his comrades. Peter and the baron both nodded and Snif waved his tail to show he remembered, too.
"Well," smiled Jack, "the Red Jinn told me to remove my head before throwing the flagon and thus avoid the disaster."
"So that's why you took off your pumpkin," murmured Ozma, who had been puzzled by this strange action of Jack's.
"And he also told me that to release the prisoners from the pirate sack, I must turn it inside out and shake it three times," went on Jack impressively. "So when Mogodore transported me suddenly to the palace, I did both of these things."
"You certainly did," agreed the Scarecrow, shaking his finger at Jack Pumpkinhead, "and brought a horde of horrors about our ears."
"I forgot about the Scares," admitted Jack apologetically, "but they're back where they belong, now, and everything has turned out for the best."
"It certainly has," exclaimed Ozma, jumping up impulsively. "You and Peter, Snif and this brave baron have saved the Kingdom of Oz!" Jack was so overcome by these words that he lost his balance and sat down. But he was quickly pulled to his feet, and next instant the rafters rang with rousing cheers for the four valiant rescuers.
"I wish my grandchildren could hear this," sighed the Iffin, resting his chin on one claw.
"Oh! Have you grandchildren?" asked Ozma, leaning forward politely.
"No," murmured the Iffin in an embarrassed voice, "but I may have. And they'll be interested to hear about this."
"Take my advice and never have any grandchildren," whispered the Scarecrow confidentially. "I'm a grandfather, and I know." Before he had time to explain what he meant, two footmen came grandly forward to announce that dinner was ready, and no one, I assure you, was sorry for that.