L. Frank Baum - Oz 18 Read online

  “Let Tatters tell what happened,” said the little Princess, stamping her foot imperiously. “It wasn’t his fault, Grampa.” She spoke with such firmness that Peer Haps fairly gasped. Then, stealing a second glance and recognizing her instantly as a Royal Princess of Oz, he motioned for Tatters to speak.

  So the Prince of Ragbad rose up and in breathless sentences explained how he had been seized at the gates of the city and tricked into marrying the Princess.

  “But isn’t that what you were going to do anyway?” asked Percy Vere, when the Prince had finished. “Weren’t you looking for a Princess and a fortune when I met you? And didn’t we all decide to hunt the Princess of Perhaps City? Well! Here she is-and there you are! The only difference is that you have married her a little sooner than you intended and saved her from an unknown and dreadful monster. Nothing so terrible about that. My hat!” Percy Vere smiled coaxingly at the Prince and encouragingly at Peer Haps, for he did not like to see any of his friends unhappy.

  “But I was only going to rrr-rescue her,” wailed Tatters.

  “The difference is that we haven’t seen the Princess,” put in Grampa more mildly. “We’d save anybody from a monster, but don’t you think, Mr Vere, it was unfair to marry Tatters to a Princess he’s never even seen?”

  “Idiot,” screamed a harsh voice. Whirling around, the startled company saw a bent and dreadful old man standing just inside the long window. “Idiot!” he shrieked again, pointing a long trembling finger at Peer Haps. “You have married your daughter to a monster!”

  “It’s Abrog,” gasped Percy Vere, clutching Dorothy’s hand.

  “Monster,” roared Grampa, and hopping over to the Prophet, he seized him by the beard. “How dare you call Tatters a monster? I’ll fight you!” puffed the old soldier furiously. Jerking away, Abrog leaned down, picked up Fumbo’s head and set it upon Tatters’ shoulders. “See,” he screamed wildly, “you have married your daughter to a monster with two heads.” And as Peer Haps, who knew nothing of Tatters’ story, fell back aghast, Fumbo stuck his head out of the bag and began scolding everyone in the room.

  In the uproar that followed and while Percy, Dorothy, and Grampa were trying all at once to explain things to the old Peer, the Prophet himself began to move stealthily toward the Princess. Only Tatters saw this. Placing his father’s head carefully on the table, he reached out and, just as Abrog reached her, the Prince seized him roughly by the collar. But he was not quick enough. Abrog had already snatched away the cloak and there - trembling and sorrowful - stood the Princess of Perhaps City, herself. Tatters loosed his hold upon the Prophet.

  “Urtha,” cried the overwrought young bride-groom and took the frightened little fairy in his arms.

  CHAPTER 20: The Prophet Confesses

  YOU can well imagine the surprise of Grampa and his little army to discover that the flower maiden whom they had been loving all this while was really the lost Princess. How the story ever would have been straightened out had it not been for Dorothy, I have no idea.

  “Why didn’t you tell us it was Urtha?” shouted Grampa, shaking his finger indignantly at Peer Haps.

  “And who is Urtha?” gasped the astonished old monarch, fanning himself with his crown, for he was in such a state by this time that he hardly knew what he was doing.

  “My daughter’s name is Pretty Good-isn’t it, my dear?” The little flower fairy shook her head solemnly. “My name is Urtha,” she insisted softly. “Isn’t it, Tatters?”

  “She’s bewitched,” groaned the King. “She’s bewitching,” corrected Grampa.

  “Stop! Stop!” said Dorothy. “We’ll never get things straightened out this way. Everybody sit down and quick quick-catch that Prophet!” Abrog had been slyly edging toward the door, but the Forgetful Poet, with a quick bound, brought him back.

  “Now then,” said Dorothy, when they were all seated, “I believe Abrog is at the bottom of the whole business. Let’s make him tell. Did you bewitch this Princess?” she demanded sternly.

  Abrog only mumbled and scowled and refused to speak a word. “Better answer this young lady,” puffed Peer Haps warningly. “She is a Princess of Oz, and can have you well punished.”

  “Speak up, you old villain!” shouted Grampa, waving his sword over the Prophet’s head. But Abrog stood still and stubbornly refused to say a word, until the old soldier suddenly bethought himself of the wizard’s medicine. “Maybe there’s a cure for the tongue tied on this,” muttered Grampa. Taking out the bottle, he began to scan the green label. At the first sight of the medicine, a dreadful change came over the Prophet.

  He turned a sickly green and began to tremble violently.

  “Give me that bottle! Give me that bottle, and I will tell all,” he panted, trying desperately to snatch it from Grampa.

  “Don’t you do it,” cried the Prince of Ragbad. “Why, Grampa, I believe-I believe this is the wizard himself.”

  “But it says ‘Gorba,’ ” muttered the old soldier, holding the bottle high above his head. “Don’t you remember?”

  “Gorba!” exclaimed Dorothy, writing the word with her finger in the air. “Why G- o-r-b-a is A-b-r-o-g spelled backwards!”

  “Abrog and Gorba!” shrieked Percy Vere, bounding to his feet. The poet instantly broke into verse in his customary style:

  “Abrog and Gorba are one and the same-A prophet and wizard wrapped up in one-one—one?”

  “Name!” finished Peer Haps, almost tumbling from his throne.

  “This is the most exciting story I ever was in,” wheezed the head of Fumbo, from its place on the table.

  The Prophet had fairly crumpled up at Dorothy’s discovery and, seeing that further resistance was useless, he whined out the whole of his story. Determined to save Pretty Good from the monster and marry her himself, he had decided to change her to mud. For a Princess as ugly as mud, even a monster would not marry, explained the old villain tearfully. So for this purpose he had carried her to the hidden garden, where all his magic appliances were kept. But so sweet, lovely and good was the little Princess of Perhaps City, that the evil spell of the wizard, instead of changing her to a muddy image as Abrog intended, had turned her into a bewitching little flower fairy. Disappointed at the way his magic had worked, Abrog had nevertheless resolved to keep her under the spell until after the day of the prophecy and then change her back to her own self and marry her at once.

  But when he returned to the garden he found her gone and he had hurried as fast as he could back to Perhaps City. How he had been robbed of his magic medicine on the first day he bewitched Urtha, and how Urtha herself had been released by Tatters and Grampa, we know.

  “But what about this monster?” panted the old soldier, as Abrog finished speaking and began uncomfortably shuffling his feet on the golden floor.

  “Let me see that prophecy,” demanded Dorothy. The unwilling Prophet drew the crumpled parchment from his sleeve.

  “A youth, wrapped in the skin of an old bear-a youth with two heads upon his shoulders and carrying a red umbrella-will marry the Princess of Perhaps City,” read Dorothy in some surprise.

  “Why, that’s Tatters!” cried the little girl in delight. “Of course it is,” declared Grampa.

  “Why, there isn’t any monster at all. Whoever said there was?” He stared around triumphantly and Peer Haps pointed angrily at the old Prophet, who was hopping about in a vain attempt to escape.

  “What shall we do to him?” asked the Forgetful Poet, seizing Abrog by the collar and holding him, kicking and struggling, in the air.-Some said this and some said that, but it was Grampa, running his finger quickly down the trusty green label, who finally decided the matter. For listed under sorcery he found a sure cure for Abrog.

  “Break a saucer of the mixture over the sorcerer’s head,” directed the bottle severely. So a saucer was quickly brought and, paying no attention to the squalls and screams of the scheming old Prophet, Grampa broke it over his head. At the first crack of the china, Abrog
disappeared and, as every one jumped with surprise, a little brown mouse scurried across the room.

  “Well, he won’t do much harm in that shape,” sighed Grampa, as Toto went sniffing all around the throne under which the mouse had disappeared.

  “But my daughter!” cried Peer Haps sud denly. “Who will unbewitch the Princess now?” The company exchanged dismayed glances, realizing too late that they should have forced Abrog to disenchant Urtha before they punished him.

  CHAPTER 21: Urtha Is Transformed

  YOU are probably wondering why Urtha herself had stood so silently during all the commotion in the castle. Well, in the first place the little flower fairy was so frightened by her experiences with the Play Fellows that her only thought had been of escape. With the Prophet’s spell had gone all memory of her former existence as Princess of Perhaps City and when Peer Haps had found her on Maybe Mountain and hurried her back to the castle she was more frightened still. Not knowing where she was, nor what to do, the confused little fairy had done nothing at all. Trembling under the big cloak, she had stood and waited for something terrible to happen and when at last she did hear the familiar voices of Tatters and Grampa and thought they were angry at her, she trembled more than ever and was afraid to speak or move at all. But now that the mystery was about cleared up, Urtha was so happy just to be with the Prince of Ragbad again that she paid small attention to the excitement about her enchantment. Neither did Tatters, for the lovely little flower fairy suited him exactly as she was. While they were whispering cozily about Ragbad and other terribly important matters, Dorothy and Grampa got their heads together and solved the last of the adventurers’ problems. For Dorothy, bending excitedly over Grampa’s shoulder, discovered a cure for enchantment on the wizard’s bottle. “Three drops on the head,” advised the green label. Grampa squinted anxiously into the bottle, for he had poured nearly the whole contents over Abrog.

  “Is there enough?” whispered Dorothy. Grampa, shaking his head doubtfully, tiptoed over to Urtha and, while Percy Vere, Peer Haps and Dorothy watched with breathless interest, he shook the bottle over her head. One drop! Two drops! And-after a violent shake-three fell upon the soft fern hair of the littler fairy. As the third drop fell the little flower girl melted away before their eyes into a rainbow mist of lovely colors. Out of the mist stepped a no less lovely Princess-a Princess so like Urtha that Grampa blinked and Tatters could hardly believe his senses. Though no longer a little lady of flowers, Urtha still carried the flowers’ lovely colors and the flowers’ lovely fragrance in her exquisite little person. Violets were no bluer than Urtha’s eyes; roses never pinker than Urtha’s cheeks; apple blossoms no fairer than Urtha’s skin.

  Trembling with relief and happiness, Peer Haps clasped her in his arms and, with the little Princess on his knee, insisted on hearing every word of the long, strange story.

  And about time it was that he did, for all this while he had been trying to explain to himself the presence of Fumbo’s head. But when Grampa had told their adventures from beginning to end, Peer Haps welcomed the King of Ragbad as heartily as if his whole body were present, and they all sat down to talk things over.

  Just as Grampa was telling again exactly how they had discovered Urtha, there was a loud screech in the corridor, and in flew the brave weather cock, whom no one had missed in the terrible commotion.

  “Here I come by the name of Bill,” crowed the excited bird and flying over to Grampa, he proudly dropped Grampa’s lost leg into his lap. For while the others had hurried up the mountain Bill had flown back to the playground and snatched Grampa’s leg away from King Capers and two of the mischievous Pierrettes who were deeply engrossed in the game of scrum. It had taken Bill some time but here at last he was and, joyfully buckling on his leg, Gramps danced a jig on the spot. For now his happiness was complete-Peer Haps having already given him a pipe. Everyone made such a fuss over Bill that he felt fully repaid for his trouble.

  Indeed, it was hard to tell who, of all that merry company, was the merriest-the Forgetful Poet at finding himself safely home, Peer Haps at finding his daughter, Grampa at the recovery of his leg, Urtha and Tatters or Dorothy and Toto at the splendid way the adventure had turned out.

  Chuckling with delight, Peer Haps ran off to fetch his yellow hen, for he was determined that Tatters should have the fortune-a reward of a thousand gold bricks.

  “Is that the fortune?” asked Bill indignantly, as he placed the yellow hen in Tatters’ arms. “Why, it’s nothing but a bunch of feathers!”

  “Don’t you crow over me,” screeched the yellow hen and, flying up, she laid a gold brick upon the table, much to the astonishment of Bill and the delight of the others.

  While they still were laughing there was a blinding flash, and the yellow hen, Bill, Toto, Peer Haps and every other single person in the throne room disappeared. Yes, sir, they were gone as gone as a box of last year’s Christmas candy.

  CHAPTER 22: Rejoicing in Ragbad

  GONE, you say. But where? I might as well tell you at once that they were gone from Perhaps City because they already were in Ragbad standing in a surprised group in the shabby ballroom of the red castle. For Ozma, looking that morning in the magic picture to see why Dorothy had not returned to the Emerald City, had seen the little girl and her companions and all day had been following their adventures.

  With the aid of a powerful radio belonging to the Wizard of Oz, she had heard the whole story Grampa had just related and determined, by her magic belt, to send them all safely home.

  “They’ve had enough adventures,” smiled this wise little ruler, and because she knew Dorothy, the Forgetful Poet and Peer Haps would want to meet Mrs. Sew-and-Sew and the rest of Tatters’ friends, she had sent them along too. But, best of all, she had, aided by the wizard’s magic, wished Fumbo’s head firmly and permanently back upon his body. When Pudge and Mrs. Sew-and-Sew, aroused by all the confusion, came running to see what was the matter, imagine their surprise to find Fumbo in full possession of his head, welcoming Peer Haps, Dorothy and the Forgetful Poet to Ragbad.

  And now what a flurry of introductions and explanations, what hugs, kisses and congratu-lations all ‘round! Mrs. Sew-and-Sew could hardly believe her good fortune and had to kiss Tatters every few minutes to see if he really were there and Urtha every few minutes to see if she really were true. After she had heard the whole story from beginning to end, she sent Pudge off to summon the twenty-four rustic laborers and rushed off to prepare such a feast as the old red castle had not known since her own wedding day-a feast with six kinds of ice cream and seven kinds of cake and two helpings of turkey for everyone. Far into the night the merrymaking lasted, for after the feast itself the old soldier insisted that they dance the Ragbad Quadrille.

  “Oh, let’s!” cried the Princess, remembering how she and Tatters had danced upon the iceberg. So lines were quickly formed on each side of the ballroom.

  “Come along, monster!” cried Urtha, leading off merrily with the Prince, as Grampa burst into the spirited music of the dance. Mrs. Sew-and-Sew and Peer Haps came next, then the Forgetful Poet and Dorothy, then Fumbo and Pudge, the twenty-four rustic laborers filling in as they were needed. Not until the loud crows of Bill announced the rising of the sun did the party break up, and only then after a hundred rousing cheers had been given for the Prince and Princess of Ragbad. After luncheon next day, Dorothy and Toto, Peer Haps and the Forgetful Poet were magically transported back home by thoughtful little Ozma but, before she left, Dorothy made them promise to visit her in the Emerald City and I have no doubt that they will.

  When Dorothy reached home the first person to greet her was her old friend, the Tin Woodman, smiling as he always smiles. From that day on, let me say, Ragbad was a changed Kingdom for, as the twenty-four rustic laborers sold the gold bricks as fast as they were laid by the yellow hen, there was plenty of money to buy supplies and care for the linens and lawns. Grampa and Tatters had record crops and soon everything was so prosperous
that Mrs. Sew-and-Sew took off her thimble, put on her crown and became Queen of Ragbad again.

  As for Tatters and Urtha, the last I heard of them, they were happy as the days were long-as happy as only the dear folk in Oz know how to be. So that is all of the story of the Princess who was once a fairy, the poet who forgot his words, the old soldier who was always a hero and the Prince who went in search of his father’s head.