L frank baum oz 35, p.14
L. Frank Baum - Oz 35,
p.14
The little bellmen bowed gratefully, and stepped back from the throne.
A disturbance cut off Ozma’s next words. The door of the Throne Room opened violently and a voice demanded:
“I want to see the Queen!”
“This is not the proper approach,” said the Soldier with the Green Whiskers. “Kindly hold your horses.”
“I didn’t bring my horses. But I brought this obstreperous Mifkit!”
It was the Munchkin Farmer, Number Nine’s father. He came striding toward the center of the room, followed by the small Mifkit. The Mifkit was in a greater rage and kept throwing its head at the farmer. The head hit the farmer and bounced back to the Mifkit’s shoulders.
“Keep your head!” ordered Ozma, “or you might
lose it.”
At that the Mifkit threw its head at the Queen. But before it reached her, Ozma raised her hand. The Mif-kit’s head stopped in mid-air.
“I ain’t got no body!” cried the head.
“Mind your grammar,” said Ozma severely.
The head stuck out its tongue. “Soldier with the Green Whiskers, hold its tongue,” ordered Ozma. The Soldier stepped close to the head and seized the outstretched tongue in both hands.
“Now, then, Farmer, what’s wrong?” asked Ozma.
“It’s wrong!” declared the Munchkin Farmer, pointing to the headless Mifkit “I ordered it to milk, and it milked. But it wouldn’t STOP! My cows ran away, and they are still running.”
“Your cows must be stopped,” said Ozma sympathetically. “My Royal Rubber Stopper will see to that. Go home, Farmer, and never worry again. I’ll banish this wicked Mifkit.”
The head of the Mifkit appeared to be trying to talk. But as the Soldier with the Green Whiskers was holding its tongue, it could only make horrible faces. Its cheeks filled out, its eyes popped and looked ready to fall out of their sockets.
“Let go its tongue,” said Ozma. “We’ll hear what it has to say.”
When the Mifkit’s tongue was free, it sputtered,
“Gimme my body! You ain’t got no right to keep us
apart!”
“Such language!” declared Aunt Em in a shocked voice. “Why, I declare it’s a sin.”
“It’s syn-tax shall be promptly levied,” said Ozma. She pointed her sceptre at the head. “YOU ARE BANISHED!” The head disappeared. Then Ozma pointed at the body. “GO HEADWAY ALONG!”
Zipp! The place where the Mifkit had stood was
empty.
“I hope both parts arrive at the same time,” spoke Ozma. “He was an amusing little savage, but there’s no place for him in Oz.”
“He’ll have an interesting story to tell his fellow critters in the Sandy Waste,” said Aunt Em.
Aunt Em now folded up her knitting. “Your Majesty,” she spoke in a decided tone of voice. “You have had a strenuous session. I move we adjourn to Jenny’s Style Shop. I haven’t anything to wear to the Scalawagon Initiation this afternoon.”
“I am a bit tired,” Ozma admitted. She leaned her head on her hand wearily. Then she straightened up and said brightly, “But a new hat will do wonders for me.”
“Court adjourned!” cried the Soldier with the
Green Whiskers. Raising his trumpet, he blew three loud notes. Ozma descended from her throne and led the way out of the Throne Room, through the long corridor, and down the broad stairs. The people and the animals followed her to the street. As they got into their waiting scalawagons, Ozma said to the Town Crier,
“Go and cry through the town that a party is to be given in honor of the scalawagons at Custard Court at three o’clock, when the babies have finished their naps. Invite everybody!”
CHAPTER 25
The Great Party
THE Town Crier did his part well. Riding up and I down streets in his new scalawagon, he covered more territory than he could on foot. So well and plentifully did he cry that his tears washed all the streets fresh for the party.
In a short while all the people in the Emerald City, including the guests, knew of Ozma’s party at Custard Court. Never had there been such primping and dressing. Everyone was determined to look his best.
Jellia Jamb, Ozma’s housekeeper, had seen to the
preparations at the Court. In spite of the short notice, everything was in readiness. It required a bit of magic to prepare some of the features. The Wizard came to assist Jellia, and with a bit of magic here and there, wonders were accomplished.
As soon as the children awoke from their naps, the people began streaming toward Custard Court. On Strawberry Street and Celery Street the crowds were thickest, for these were two short-cuts to the Court.
In Pudding Place and Banana Boulevard the scalawagons rode in a thick formation. In spite of the crowding, everyone was in good humor. And since all the traffic was going the same way, there were no accidents.
The houses would dearly have loved to join the procession, but it was against the law for them to leave their places. They all smiled at the passersby, blinking their blinds and fluttering their shutters.
Ozma and her friends were still at Jenny’s Style Shop. The first to go through the turnstyle had been the Nota-bells. They were soon turned out in smart red jackets and blue trousers, and their bells were given a high polish.
“Aren’t we high-toned!” declared one bellman, tossing his head until it rang.
“You may go on to the party,” said Ozma with a smile. “I think you’ll find what you want there.”
The Nota-bells needed no second invitation. Skipping out of the shop, they hopped aboard a scalawagon and rode as fast as the crowds permitted. When they arrived in the Courtyard, they saw something that made them peal with delight.
The Tin Woodman and the Scarecrow were rolling a couple of molasses barrels into the center of the courtyard. Nick barely had time to raise his ax and remove the head, before the bellmen came flying around him like a swarm of bees.
“Hurry! Hurry!” they cried. They kept circling around Nick’s head, their spread beards keeping them In another minute the barrel was opened and the molasses flowed free to all. The excited bellmen swarmed down and began greedily to lick the sweet stuff. They did not wait for spoons or dishes or napkins, but used their tongues and fingers, licking away for their lives.
The people stood speechless at this spectacle. Only Scraps, the Patchwork Girl, spoke out:
“I was never very fussy, Neither was I quite so mussy!” which expressed what most of the people were thinking.
The little men pushed each other and ducked into the center of the molasses barrel. Soon their new suits were covered with the sticky molasses. They picked every drop off and licked their fingers clean.
A couple of them crawled inside the leaking barrel, and when they crawled out, they were sticky from whiskers to toes.
The sight seemed to fascinate Scraps. She chanted, “Pardon me a moment, Misters, There’s molasses in your whiskers; I don’t mean to criticise, But it’s also in your eyes!” The bellmen paid no attention to Scraps, but continued to push and shove each other, each trying to get the most This rough scene made Scraps very happy.
“You don’t seem to get enough
Of this fascinating stuff;
And when all is said and done,
I’ll admit it must be fun!” Scraps did not eat, so she had no use for molasses. But she could not resist getting into a fight. The bellmen were fighting over the last few drops. With a squeal and a jump, Scraps landed in the middle of the bellmen. There was a flying mass of patches,
whiskers, and molasses. The mess provided high entertainment for the crowd.
Only Jack Pumpkinhead did not think the sight funny. “Scraps, Scraps,” he moaned, “when will you learn to be a lady?”
“Did you call for a lady?” inquired a charming voice at Jack’s elbow. Turning, Jack saw a dainty, two-headed dragonette. The dragonette’s two faces were smiling at Jack, and a soft thread of smoke came from each mouth. The dragonette put up its paws and elegantly covered its mouths.
“Hello, Evangeline,” said Jack. “I wish Scraps were half as polite as you.”
At this minute the crowd parted to make way for the scalawagons of Ozma and her party. Dorothy was dressed in princess clothes. Jenny was attired like a duchess. Aunt Em and Uncle Henry were in their Sunday best. Many with new Sunbonnets.
“Gracious, what’s happening?” exclaimed Ozma, surveying the flying mass of Whiskers and Scraps.
“Looks like a free-for-all,” said Uncle Henry. “Everything is free for all at this party,” said Dorothy. “And if the refreshments won’t go around, we can eat right in our scalawagons.”
“Scraps and the Nota-bells will have to be refreshed in another way,” said Jenny with a laugh. “Ozma,
call off that fight and order them to my Style Shop. They can get into clean clothes in a jiffy.”
“A good idea,” said Ozma. Raising her voice, she called, “Scraps, stop your fighting, dear.”
Scraps came out of the flying mess and landed on her back, sprawling. She was up in a flash, and somersaulted to Ozma’s scalawagon.
“What can I do for you, Ozma?” she said.
“Better do something for yourself, Scraps. Go to the Style Shop and get yourself a new outfit. And help the bellmen through the turnstyle. When you all look better, come back and see the fun.”
Scraps drew herself up importantly. “I’ll see that those fellows behave themselves,” she said.
Hearing Ozma’s voice, the bellmen stopped fighting and stood up at attention. They were a sorry sight, with their clothes all askew, and their whiskers stuck fast in molasses.
They followed the beckoning Scraps, who took them to the Style Shop.
When Scraps returned from the Style Shop, she was so proud of her new outfit that she rode on the roof of her scalawagon, so that everyone could see her. The bellmen, in neat suits of blue and gold, rode soberly beneath her.
“Now, good people,” Ozma said, standing up in her Royal scalawagon, “we have some grand entertainment. I hope it will please you!”
The people broke into cheers for their beloved Queen. Ozma and her party left their scalawagons and mounted to the terrace of Custard Court, where they might overlook the huge, colorful throng. On the terrace, they found Glinda and the Wizard.
Glinda, looking her loveliest in a long red robe, with her long hair flowing over her shoulders, stood up to greet Ozma.
“I want to thank you and the Wizard. The scalawagons have made my people so happy! During the day, the children play fire-engine with them, and in the evening the old folks go riding in the country.”
The Scarecrow and the Tin Woodman now joined the royal party. “My people enjoy their scalawagons, too,” said the Tin Woodman. “This morning I saw a Winkie mother tucking her child into one for its forty winks.”
“My Munchkins have another use for theirs,” put in the Scarecrow. “They mail their letters in them. It’s the fastest service we’ve ever had.”
“How do they do it?” asked Ozma, looking interested.
“They just put their letter inside the scalawagon
and tell the car where to deliver it. In no time at all, the scalawagon is back-with an answer.”
“Well, if that doesn’t beat all!” exclaimed Aunt
Em.
“Yes, the scalawagons are a wonderful gift to the people,” said Glinda. “And as I was saying, I’d like to show my appreciation. So—look!”
The party on the terrace bent to look down into the court. There, coming through the crowd, were the six Lollies and their Pops. They carried brimming buckets of water fairies on their heads. In the center of the courtyard they lowered the buckets and spread them with a swish. Glinda stood up and raised her hands. Instantly a circular brook was flowing there, with the water fairies bobbing on the surface.
The people broke into a pandemonium of delight. They danced and shouted like mad.
“They love it,” said Ozma, giving Glinda a smile of thanks. “And it certainly adds to the beauty of the courtyard.”
When the crowd quieted down, the music of the brook could be heard. The people, recognizing a familiar waltz, quickly found partners and danced. The small children formed a ring around the brook and danced, too. Then overhead, came flying the
eighty-eight bellmen. Joining softly with the music, they played the “Waltz of the Bells.”
“My, aren’t they all having a grand time!” said Aunt Em. “I declare, it makes me feel young enough to dance, too!”
“What are we waiting for?” said Uncle Henry, rising and offering Aunt Em his arm. The two went off to join the dancers.
Just then Number Nine came onto the terrace. Going up to Jenny, he said, “May I have this dance?”
Jenny blushed.
“Go ahead, Jenny,” spoke the Wizard. “For I mean to ask Ozma for this dance myself.”
The Tin Woodman put his hand over his heart. “That gives me courage to ask Glinda’s kind permission for this dance,” he said.
The Scarecrow stepped up to Dorothy and bowed low. “Will you honor me, my dear?”
“Why, I’d love to!” cried Dorothy, jumping to her feet. All the girls went down with their partners.
The scalawagons were delighted at this party given in their honor. Rearing up on their hind wheels, they cavorted as merrily as the rest.
Now there wasn’t a body who wasn’t dancing. Never had there been so much laughter and fun within the Emerald City. The Guardian of the Gate and
the Soldier with the Green Whiskers looked up from their game of marbles inside the city gate. Hearing the music, they put their arms on each other’s shoulders and began to waltz.
“Happy days!” said the Guardian.
“What’s happy about it?” asked a voice behind the Guardian. It was the Town Crier, crying with all his might. “They’re all so gay, I’ve nothing to cry about!” he complained, and he felt so sorry for himself that he cried harder than ever.
“That’s right,” said the Guardian. “Just sit down and have a good cry. It will make you feel better.”
“I don’t want to feel better,” said the Crier. “I’m happiest when I’m saddest. But I can’t keep my feet from dancing to that music!”
Still crying, he went dancing away. He came to Custard Court, and stood dancing on the edge of the crowd.
Up on the terrace appeared the tall hall clock from the Wizard’s tower.
“Where’s that boy?” grumbled the Clock. “He ought to be at work. Three and a half days late! Why, I’ve ticked myself black in the face, in all that time! I won’t tick if he won’t work. I’ll just stop!”
The minute the Clock stopped it heard the music of
the brook and the bells. They were merrily playing “The Dance of the Hours.” The cranky old clock found its feet tapping on the terrace floor.
“I can’t stop dancing!” it cried, tapping its feet faster. “This is an outrage! There’s work to be done. Three and a half days late!”
Turning, the Clock fled from the terrace, across to the palace, and up the stairs to its corner. But even there the music could be heard, and the old Clock could not restrain its feet.
“Three and a half—Help!” it cried, as it stood hopping and tapping to the merry tune.
The End
Table of Contents
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3 Tik-Tok Sets to Work
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10 Number Nine chimes In
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14 The Great Reunion
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
The Scalawagons Of Oz, L. Frank Baum - Oz 35
