Merry Go Round in Oz

by Eloise Jarvis McGraw and Lauren McGraw

Chapter 1

     IT WAS a fine April evening, and the little
carnival that had pitched its tents on the outskirts of Cherryburg,
Oregon, was doing a rushing business and making as much
noise as possible about it. The calliope blared, the banners
snapped in the breeze, the rifles banged in the shooting gallery, the
grease sizzled in the hamburger stand, the children shrieked with
excitement, the cash registers chimed vigorously, and the manager
rubbed his hands together with a sound like sandpaper scraping
a board.
     An ancient pickup truck added to the din as it bumped and
jolted and clattered its way into the carnival grounds and across
the parking area, subsiding with a final backfire under a huge oak
tree. Instantly its doors and tailgate flew open and disgorged
nine tow-headed McGudgey brothers, and one small rusty-haired
foster brother named Robin Brown.
     "Okay, everybody, eyes front!" yelled Big Tim, the tenth
tow-headed McGudgey brother, who had been in the army. He
climbed out of the driver's seat, collected his young charges into
a squirming, chattering group, and demanded to know where
each one was going.
     "Ferris wheel!" shrieked three McGudgeys.
"Fortune teller!" yelled another.
     "Hamburger stand! Rocket cars! Dodgems!" whooped several
more.
     "Merry-go-round," said Robin Brown-in a calm voice, as
usual. Nobody heard him, also as usual.
     "Okay, 'tention!" shouted Tim. "Got your money? Everybody
show me! Tommy, come back here! Allen, 'bout face!
Let's see your money. Okay, company report back here at nine-
thirty sharp, understand? Where's Robin?"
     "Where's Robin? Where's Robin?" cried the others impatiently,
milling around.
     "Here I am," said Robin, but nobody heard him.
     "Never mind him, let's go!" yelled various McGudgeys.
     "Now just wait a minute, company halt! Where's Robin got
to? Let go my sleeve, whoever that is-oh, it's Robin! Where've
you been, anyhow? You got your money? Okay, break ranks
everybody, back at nine-thirty, remember!"
     The last warning was uttered in a drill-sergeant's bellow, as
the nine McGudgeys scattered in all directions, whooping with
anticipation. Big Tim himself set off at a trot for the shooting
gallery, leaving Robin standing alone under the oak tree, able at
last to hear the music of the merry-go-round.
     Clutching his one precious coin, he hurried in the direction
of the calliope, wondering if the merry-go-round could possibly
be as glorious as he remembered it from last year, and warning
himself not to be disappointed if it weren't. Robin often issued
these severe little warnings to himself, though he scarcely needed
them. In the ten years of his orphan's life-spent chiefly in shuttling
from one foster home to another-very few things had turned
out to be as interesting as he had hoped.
     He did not find the McGudgeys interesting at all, but they
were no worse than any other of the foster families he had lived
with-though noisier than most. He was quite accustomed to
being solitary, belonging to no one and having no one that truly
belonged to him. Mr. and Mrs. MeGudgey were kind enough,
in an absentminded way. They bellowed good-naturedly at him
whenever they happened to notice him, sent him along with their
own sons to enjoy an occasional treat such as this carnival, and
took him to the dentist twice a year. Once every two weeks he
was required to line up with the other boys for the regular nose
counting, temperature-taking, and gumdrop distributing, a procedure
 which was conducted along army lines by Tim. The rest of
the time the McGudgeys went noisily about their business, and
left Robin to go quietly about his own, thinking his own thoughts
and warning himself about disappointments.
     Tonight there was no disappointment in store. The merry-
go-round was a glorious sight, and it made a glorious, if
deafening, noise-exactly as he remembered. He stood gazing raptly at the
gilt-and-scarlet canopy glittering under its colored lights, and
the prancing horses circling below it. Even the music sounded
gilt-and-scarlet, and the saddles and bridles were fully as
gorgeous as the ones in his King Arthur book. If there was anything Robin
liked as well as merry-go-rounds, it was his King Arthur book.
And if there was anything he liked better than either one, it was
horses-any kind of horses. He preferred real ones, but had yet
to meet one personally. Until he did, wooden ones would do.
     He began to walk all around the spinning merry-go-round,
studying the horses through narrowed eyes. He had money for
only one ride, and he meant to choose the very handsomest horse
to take that one ride on. But how to choose? They were all the
handsomest! Dapple-gray with a blue and silver saddle, black
with fiery eyes, snow-white, yellow, spotted .
     Robin was still biting his lip anxiously, looking from one
horse to another, when the merry-go-round began to slow down.
     "My ticket!" he exclaimed. "For heaven's sakes, I forgot to
buy my ticket!"
     As he whirled, glancing around to find the ticket booth, there
was a cackle of laughter behind him, and a voice said, "Here's
your ticket, Sonny, I've got your ticket! This way, this way!"
     The voice faded slowly with the turning of the merry-go-
round, but Robin caught a glimpse of a bent little man clinging
to one of the gilded poles, and ran quickly after him. He had
to follow another half turn before the merry-go-round glided
slowly to a halt, and the man stepped down in front of him.
     He was a very strange little man, fat as a butterball, no taller
than Robin himself, and dressed in the oddest possible collection
of rags and tatters. He seemed amiable enough, however, for he
was grinning and chuckling as he peered intently into Robin's
face.
"Here's your ticket, Sonny! Where's your money? Where's
your money? You pay-this way-I say-you pay-"
He must be a little touched, Robin thought, hastily holding
out his coin and receiving a ticket in return. He had a fleeting
impression that the ticket was as odd as the ticket-seller, but he
had no time to examine it, for the little man was tugging him onto
the merry-go-round, talking all the time.
     "There you are, Sonny, one ticket one ride, grab the ring and
have a fling, grab the ring, grab the ring-free ride, whee ride,
spree ride, glee ride, grab the ring, free ride .
     "Wait a minute!" puffed Robin, trying to wriggle away from
the little man, who was pulling him along between the horses
as fast as he could go. "Please-wait a minute, Sir. I want to
choose my horse!"
     "No need, no need, there's your steed, there's your steed,
light feed, such speed-"
     The calliope gave a shrill blast, the little man a shrill laugh
that sounded almost like it, and Robin found himself staring in
delight at the very handsomest horse on the merry-go-round.
It was a dainty, high-stepping little mare, painted scarlet, with
a tossing carved mane and flowing long tail of snowy white. Her
saddle and bridle were shining gilt, as was the twisted pole
rising up out of her withers to the canopy above. Her hooves were
black and polished, and her glass eyes dark and soft.
     "Why, how did I miss you before?" Robin said happily, patting
her wooden neck and climbing quickly onto her back. He was
sure he hadn't seen her before, though he couldn't think why,
since she was in the outside ring of horses and plainly visible.
"Never mind, I've found you now, thanks to that funny little
man-where did he go, I wonder?"
     The little man had certainly vanished-probably, thought
Robin, he was on the other side of the merry-go-round selling
tickets to someone else. For the first time, he examined his own
ticket, and found that it 'was a curious one, as he had thought.
It was as large as a postcard, and scarlet, like the mare. Across
one side of it in shining gilt letters was printed:
GRAB THE BRASS RING FOR A FREE RIDE
     "Well, I'll certainly try," Robin told his mare. "I'd like two
rides on you better than anything I can think of! . . . Oh-oh,
here we go!"
     Hastily gathering the gilded reins, Robin thrust his feet into
the stirrups and sat up very straight and stern, deciding he would
be Sir Gareth on this ride, and-if he managed to grab the brass
ring-Sir Lancelot on the next. The merry-go-round slowly began
 its gliding circle, and the scarlet mare rose slowly in her
bounding canter, sank again, rose more swiftly, sank, rose,
dropped, leaped, dropped, leaped . . .
     "It's just like flying!" Robin thought, laughing with excitement
as he watched the lights and tents of the carnival flick
'round and 'round. "Here I come, ye knights and ladies, I, Sir
Gareth, will slay the Black Knight and rescue the damsel and-"
     "The ring, grab the ring, have a fling, free ride, glee ride..."
     It was the funny little man's voice, all right, though Robin
couldn't see him anywhere. Never mind, there was the brass ring
just ahead, a tiny object clipped to the end of a long metal arm
that extended toward the merry-go-round. It was just out of
reach.
     "Missed it!" Robin said disgustedly. "Oh, well, it'll come
around again in a minute . . . Shucks! Missed it again!"
     After the fourth or fifth failure, Robin began to grow stubborn,
as he always did when he failed at something. Then he grew
ingenious, as he always did when he became stubborn. While
his little red mare was leaping and bounding around the rest of
the circle, he prepared hastily for the moment at which he would
pass that tantalizing metal arm again. With some difficulty, since
the merry-go-round was now whirling at top speed and his mare
was very spirited, he stood up in his stirrups, wound his left arm
tightly around the mare's pole to brace himself, and leaned perilously
 far out, with his right arm stretched full length.
     Now! Here came the arm again-why, there was the little
man, standing right under it, stamping one foot and shouting as
he stamped. Reach, Sonny! Reach! Reach! Reach! Reach!"
"I'm t-trying-" Robin panted, reaching with all his might . . .Click!
"I got it, I got it!" Robin shouted, holding the ring high. He
had one swift glimpse of the little man throwing his hat triumphantly
 in the air, then-CRACK!!!!
     "Wh-what's happening?" Robin gasped, flinging both arms
around the pole and hanging on for dear life. The merry-go-
round seemed to have gone crazy-or else something had made
him fearfully dizzy-or else all the lights in the carnival were
really whirling and swaying and jouncing and bouncing, as if the world
were turning over and over. As he shut his eyes giddily, he heard
a shrill neigh, and the little man's voice shrieked, "Free ride,
glee ride, ski ride, 'wheee ride .
     WHOOOOOOOOSMMHHHHHH!
     "My g-goodness, it's just like flying," Robin gulped, feeling
the wind whistle through his hair. Fearfully he opened one eye
and peeped-backward and downward. One peep was enough.
He was flying, he and the little red horse. "Free" ride indeed!
This ride had shot him free of the merry-go-round itself, free of
the lights, the tents, the whole carnival! There they all were,
clustered below him in the darkness, already so far away they
looked like toys, and getting smaller every second. Even as he
watched, they dwindled to a bright pinpoint and then vanished
entirely.
     "Jeepers W. Creepers!" Robin groaned, squeezing his eyes
shut again and gripping the pole convulsively. "What happens
when we land?"
     For a long while, it seemed they were never going to land at
all. Once or twice Robin opened his eyes a crack, but there was
absolutely nothing but darkness to see-not even any stars-and
the cold gale that blew against his eyelids made them sting, so
he soon gave up, closed them tight and devoted himself to hanging on.
     Finally, after what seemed an age and a half of freezing wind
and rocket-like speed, there was a curious sound, like tissue-
paper tearing. Instantly he felt his speed decrease, and warm sunshine
touch his face. The next moment the pole was jerked from
his hands and he was falling-gently, slowly, somersaulting over
and over-down, down, down, to land with a splintering, crackling
sort of crash in something twiggy and uncomfortable.
sp
Chapter 2

     FOR a few minutes, Robin did nothing at
all but pant. Then very cautiously, he opened one eye. Seeing
nothing more alarming than a patch of blue sky and a couple of
clouds, he opened the other eye and tried to sit up. This proved
difficult, both because he was dizzy and because whatever it was
he had fallen into didn't seem to want to be sat upon. Peering
down at it, he perceived that it was a mass of leaves and twigs
and thorns; as his head cleared, he realized he was sprawled in
the middle of a hawthorn hedge.
          His dizziness replaced by lively curiosity, Robin climbed out
of the hedge and looked around him. The night had gone, somehow
 or other; there was a fresh feel of morning in the air. Early
sunshine sparkled over a pleasant, rolling countryside, which was
marked by hedgerows and stone walls and ditches, and dotted
with patches of woodland. It didn't look much like Oregon; there
were no fir trees, no orchards, no mountains in the distance,
What it did look like-what it reminded Robin of strongly-
was the pictures of England he had seen in books.
          Wondering in astonishment if he could possibly have flown as
as far as England, he pushed through a gap in the hedge to see
what the place looked like on the other side. There he stopped
short. Before him was a green meadow; and in the meadow was the
little scarlet merry-go-round horse-cantering, all by itself, in
tidy circles.
          For a moment Robin simply gaped. Then he scrambled clear
of the hedge and ran forward, telling himself sternly that it
must be some other horse, and that he mustn't be disappointed. But it was
not some other horse. What other horse would be made of wood,
and painted scarlet, and wear a gilded saddle, and-above all-have
a broken merry-go-round pole growing from the base of its neck?
          "So that's what happened!" Robin exclaimed, peering at the
jagged, broken end of the pole.
          "What's what happened?" inquired the mare, gliding to a halt
in front of him.
          "Why, the pole broke! That was the crack I heard, and we
must have been thrown into the air by centripful- centrickital-
centrifugal force, and just gone on flying somehow, though I
still
can't understand how we- Robin broke off, his jaw dropping.
"Can you talk?" he exclaimed.
     "I guess I can," the mare replied in a surprised tone. "How
queer! I don't remember ever doing it before. Am I doing it all
right?" she added anxiously.
     "V-very well," Robin stammered. "Only I don't believe it, of
course. I expect I'm dreaming." He sighed, and warning himself
not to be disappointed, closed his eyes and gave himself a hard
pinch on the arm. Nothing happened, except that it hurt. When he
opened his eyes the mare was still there, watching him intently.
     "Are you dreaming?" she asked him.
     "No." Robin drew a long solemn breath. "You're really talking
And you're moving on your own legs, just like a real horse!"
     The little mare blinked. "Aren't I a real horse?"
     "Well, no. That is, you're real, of course, but you're not a real
horse," Robin explained. "Real horses are made of flesh and blood,
like me. You're made of wood."
     "Oh," she said in a disappointed tone. Turning her pretty
scarlet neck this way and that, she examined her hooves, her
painted flanks, her flowing wooden tail. "I guess I am," she sighed. "Oh,
dear, I wish I were a Real Horse! Do you think I could learn to
be?"
     "Well-maybe," Robin said doubtfully. "But I think you're
nice the way you are. I'll just-just have to get used to you
moving around and talking, that's all."
     "Will it be very hard?." the mare said earnestly. "I wouldn't
like to make things hard for you. I like you. I'd like
to be your horse."
     Robin's eyes grew round with pleasure. "Oh, would you? I've
always wanted a horse! I like you, too!" Suddenly he didn't feel
solemn at all. He began to smile, then he grinned, then he burst
out laughing.
     The little mare eyed him, and her lip began to tremble. "Are
you laughing at me? Because I'm not a Real Horse?"
     "Of course not!" Robin cried, flinging his arms around her
neck: "I'm only laughing because this is all so-so funny, and
queer, and different from being with the MeGudgeys, and-well, just
because we're here, and I don't even know where 'here' is! It
looks like England," Robin added, glancing around him uncertainly.
"Hut I'm pretty sure merry-go-round horses don't talk in England,
any more than they do in Oregon. Not even real horses talk, that I
ever heard of. How did you manage to learn?"
     "I didn't learn," the little mare said. "I just knew how, all of a
sudden. Who are the McGudgeys?"
     "They're my foster family."
     "What's a foster family?"
     "They're people who let you live with them when you're an
orphan."
     "What's an orphan?"
     "My goodness!" Robin said in astonishment. "You don't know
much, do you?"
     "No," the little mare said humbly. "I suppose it's because I'm
not a Real Horse. I don't even know your name."
     "Well, I haven't told you!" Robin said reasonably. "It's Robin
Brown. Robin S. Brown."
     "What's the 'S' for?"
     "Oh . . Satchiverus," Robin admitted reluctantly. "It's awful
silly, isn't it? I guess practically everybody has a silly middle
name.
Please just call me Robin. What's your name?"
     "I don't have one. I guess I never needed one before. Nobody
ever wanted to talk to me before."
     "Well, I want to talk to you, and I'm going to give you a
name, 'Robin declared. "Let's see. I'll call you . . . Merry!"
     "Merry," the little horse repeated in an awed, pleased voice.
"Oh! How pretty! .. . Only-"

     "Only what?" Robin asked, seeing that she looked a little disappointed.
     "Well-it's kind of short and unimportant. You've got three
names. I want a silly middle name too."
     Robin laughed and patted her scarlet neck. "All right. You
can be Merry Go Round. If 'Go' isn't a silly middle name, I never
heard one!"
     "Go!" Merry snickered in delight, then added anxiously, "I
suppose three names aren't too fancy for just an ordinary merry-
go-round horse? I wouldn't want to seem stuck-up."
     "But you're not an ordinary merry-go-round horse. You're
alive!"
     Merry gave a funny little neighing giggle and cantered around
in a circle, coming to a halt directly in front of Robin again.
"How long will I be alive?" she asked.
          "I don't know," Robin confessed thoughtfully. He scratched
his head and sat down on the grass. "There's a lot of things I
don't know any more than you do, come to think of it. I don't know why
you are alive, or where we are, or how we re going to get back to
Oregon, or why we flew away. All I did was catch the brass ring
 . . . say, I wonder if I've still got it."
     He fished in one pocket after another, finding a handkerchief,
two marbles, a rather squashed gumdrop, a harmonica, a stubby
pencil, a key chain without any keys, one wheel from a model air-
plane, a yellowish pebble he was fond of, and-in the very last
pocket-the brass ring. It was nice and shiny, but it was too big
for any of his fingers and it certainly didn't answer any of his
questions, so he put it back in his pocket and began to eat the gumdrop.
"It's all mighty queer," he finished.
          "I think it's nice," Merry said happily. "Let's not go back to
Oregon at all."
          "But we can't stay right here," Robin objected, swallowing
the gumdrop and getting to his feet.
          "Why not?" Merry, who had started cantering in a circle
again, stopped and looked over her shoulder at him. "'Will the
MeGudgeys worry about you?"
          "No," Robin admitted. "They probably won't even miss me
until Tim counts noses next."
          "Will you miss them?" asked Merry.
          "I'll miss my King Arthur book, and that's about all," Robin
told her truthfully. "But we can't stay in this meadow. There's
nothing to eat here, and I'm hungry."
     "I miss the calliope," Merry confessed. "Maybe we could find
another carnival somewhere."
     "We'll find a farm, first," Robin said practically. "And ask the
farmer where we are. After that we can decide what we want to
do. Let's climb that hill and look around. Come on.
     "All right," Merry said amiably, and cantered around her
circle.
     Robin, who had started walking toward the hill, paused and
glanced back at her. "Come on," he repeated.
     "I'm trying," Merry said, cantering faster-but still in a circle.
"Only I don't seem to know how to 'come on.
     "Why, just-just come. Come this way. Can't you go in a
straight line?"
     Merry stopped and eyed him doubtfully. "I never have," she
said. "I've never gone any way but 'round and 'round."
     "Oh, my goodness!" Robin said in dismay. "I guess you
haven't. Well, I'll have to teach you-if I can.
     Walking back to the mare, he took her gilded reins in his hand
and attempted to lead her toward the hill. He found her leading
him, instead, firmly in a circle. They halted and eyed each other
uneasily.
     "Let's try again," Robin said. "This time I'll pull harder."
They tried again. By dint of very hard pulling, Robin succeeded
in making the mare take three or four steps straight ahead,
before she swerved and stopped abruptly, complaining that it made
her dizzy.
     "It makes you dizzy to go in a straight line?" Robin puffed
in astonishment. (He was quite out of breath from tugging.)
Merry nodded her scarlet head guiltily. "Is that wrong?"
     "'Well, it's kind of mixed-up," Robin told her, scratching his
head. "It makes me dizzy to go in a circle-till I sort of get
used to it. You'll just have to get used to going straight, Merry, 'cause
we'll never get anywhere just going 'round and 'round."
     "Ride on my back and guide me," the little horse suggested.
"Then I could canter. I don't feel right, walking. Why, I've never
walked since I was carved! Maybe that's the trouble!"
     Robin climbed willingly into the gilded saddle and flapped the
gilded reins, which flashed so brightly in the sunlight that they
attracted the attention of a passing redbird, who fluttered down
to the hawthorn hedge and perched on a twig to watch. "Okay,
Gid-dap!" said Robin.
     Merry rolled an innocently inquiring eye, but didn't move.
"'What's 'Gid-dap'?" she asked in an interested voice.
     "That means start! Begin! Go ahead! I suppose it's the wrong
word for a merry-go-round horse," Robin sighed. "'What signal
are you used to?"
     "Music," Merry said promptly. "That's what's wrong, there's
no calliope! Could you manage to sound like a calliope, Robin?"
     "'Well, I'll try," Robin told her, though he couldn't help reflecting
that there was a good deal more to riding a merry-go-round
horse than to riding any real horse he'd ever heard of. Clearing
his throat, he began, "Oom-pah-pah, oom-pah-pah, teedle-eedle-
eedle-eedle-"
     "Louder," Merry urged, starting very slowly to canter.
     "Oom-pah-pah, teedle-eedle-eedle-" sang Robin. Three more
redbirds dropped down to the hawthorn bush and watched with
the greatest interest, as Merry picked up a little speed.
     "Louder!" she repeated. "It doesn't feel right yet."
     Robin took a deep breath and made as much noise as he possibly
could. "OOM PAM, PAM, OOM PAM PAH, TEEDLE
EEDLE EEDLE..
     Merry was now bounding along gaily, leaping and dropping
just as she had done on the merry-go-round; but she was still
going m circles, and Robin was expending so much energy roaring
"OOM PARS" and "TEEDLE EEDLES" that he had almost
none left over for trying to guide her. He managed only to change
the circles to spirals before he ran out of breath completely, and
pulled back on the reins.
          "Whooooo!" he gasped, collapsing against her pole as she came
slowly to a halt. "That's never going to work, Merry-we'll have
to think of-something else."
     "And it was such fun, too!" the little mare said with regret.
"Maybe you could whistle?"
     "Not that loud. If I had a tin whistle-or a flute-"
     "We can whistle that loud," a little voice said shrilly.
     Both Robin and Merry looked around in surprise, but there
was no one in the meadow except themselves and the row of redbirds
on the hawthorn hedge. Several more had joined the first
ones; there was quite an audience by now.
          "Did you say something, Merry?" Robin asked cautiously,
one eye on the redbirds.
     "No, I did, silly. I said we could whistle as loud as you were
singing. Louder, in fact."
     There was no further doubt about it; it was the largest redbird
speaking.
     "'Well, my goodness," Robin said limply. "Nothing's ever
going to surprise me again in my life, after today. Can birds talk
too?"
     "Just as well as you can," the bird replied in an impatient tone.
"I don't see anything very surprising about that. In Oz, everybody
can talk."
     "Oz?" chorused Robin and Merry
     "Don't you even know what country you're in?" the bird said,
staring. "This is the Land of Oz. Capital, Emerald City. Ruler:
Our Gracious Fairy, Princess Ozma. Geography: all Oz is divided
into four parts-Munchkins live in the east, Gillikins in the
north,
Winkies in the west, Quadlings in the south. This is the Quadling
Country; national color, red. How did you get here if you didn't
even know where you were going?"
     "We don't quite know that, either," Robin confessed. "And I
certainly don't know how we're going to get home-or even out of
this meadow-unless I can teach Merry not to go in circles."
     "Ah, now we're back to the point," the redbird said. "Do you
want us to whistle while you train her?"
     "I don't think he'll ever train her," another redbird put in
scornfully. "Not good stock to start with. Tail's too long."
     "She's a beautiful color, though," observed a third, rather
ostentatiously preening its own scarlet wing.
     "Ought to be good at taking her fences, too," put in the first
one. "Got the right gait for it. More bounce in her hocks than in
that whole gallumphing great creature of Squire Wirewither's."
     "Tail's much too long," insisted the scornful one. "Like to see
her clear a bramble-hedge without getting tangled! Poor stock,
I say. Can't think what her breeding lines could be."
     Robin had listened in astonishment to this lively argument,
wondering how in the world birds happened to know so much
about horses; but now, seeing that Merry's lip was trembling
again, and her big, soft glass eyes filling with tears, he spoke up
stoutly.
     "Merry hasn't got any old breeding lines, she's a merry-go-
round horse," he told the scornful bird. Then, to the others, he
added politely, "I'd be very grateful if you'd whistle. She's used
to a calliope, you see.
     "Glad to oblige," said the first bird. "All right, fellows, baritones
and basses take the oom-pahs, and tenors the teedle-eedles.
Ah-one-and-two!"
     On "two" the entire chorus of birds broke into piercing song-
all except the scornful one, who shook his scarlet feathers
disdainfully and flew away. Merry brightened, tossed her pretty wooden
mane and slowly started to move. This time Robin was free to turn
all his attention to guiding her, and in a few minutes had coaxed
her from circles to spirals, then from spirals to great arcs that
took her bounding and leaping over most of the meadow. Finally, to
Robin's delight, the arcs straightened out until there was not
much curve left in them at all.
          "You're doing it! You're doing it!" he shouted.
     "Am I? Oh, goody, how exciting! I'm learning to be a Real
Horse, oh, goody, goody  . ." Instantly Merry started going in
circles again, and had to be brought to a halt, crestfallen.
     "I guess excitement's bad for you," Robin told her, patting her
scarlet neck while the birds were clearing their throats. "When
you get excited, you forget. Okay, let's try again."
     "Ah-one-and-two . . ." shrilled the largest redbird.
     At the end of half an hour Merry was beginning to catch on
nicely, and Robin was beginning to understand her merry-go-
roundish ways. She always started slowly and halted gradually, and
she needed regular stops-not for rest, since her wooden legs never
grew tired, but because she was used to the merry-go-round's stopping
at intervals to let children off and on. Robin found that if
he merely climbed out of the saddle and back on again now and then,
Merry was quite content, and said it "felt right." Most important
of all, except for a lingering tendency to go in circles when she
was excited, the little horse was bounding along in perfectly
straight lines.
     "Now it's safe enough to leave the meadow," Robin thought.
"But what about the calliope music? We can't take all those birds
along; besides, I'll bet they wouldn't go."
     Me had just happily remembered the harmonica in his pocket
when Merry gave a jump of surprise, and the redbirds rose screeching
into the air and scattered in every direction. Something had
burst out of a thicket halfway up the hillside and was streaking
toward them, running so swiftly it was no more than a red-brown
blur.
     "Why it's a fox!" exclaimed Robin.
     At his words the blur came to a sliding stop a few feet away
from them, and sure enough, there was a handsome red fox, staring
at Merry with every appearance of astonishment.
     "Of course I'm a fox," it barked. "But by my brush and mask
and whiskers, what is that ?"
     By this time Robin had ceased to be surprised at talking animals,
so he answered quite calmly, "That's my horse."
     "Your horse?" The fox's eyes widened in disbelief, then narrowed
to slits as it sat back on its haunches and simply yelped
with laughter. "Oh, my mask and whiskers, wait'll they see this! Your
horse! O, wait till I tell the kits! Oh, gadzooks!"
     "What do you mean, laughing at Merry!" Robin cried indignantly,
patting the little mare's drooping head.
     "Sorry, can t stay to explain, I'm on duty. But you'll find out,
you'll find out . . ." Still yapping hilariously, the fox
streaked off again, plunged through the hawthorn hedge and disappeared.
     "What manners!" Robin said angrily. "Never mind him,
Merry, he's just ignorant. Come on, let's go look for that farm,
I'm tired of this old meadow."
     "B-but the birds are gone," Merry said. Her lip was quivering
with discouragement. "And everybody laughs at me, and I'll never
learn to be a Real Horse, and-"
     "You're better than a real horse!" Robin told her, fishing
hastily in his pocket. "And we don't need the birds, because I
have a harmonica! Listen!"
     Me blew a stirring chord or two on the instrument. Merry's
ears pricked up at once, but she had scarcely started to move when
the loud, clear notes of a hunting horn sounded in the distance,
and closer, the baying of a pack of hounds.
     "What's that, Robin?" Merry quavered, beginning to prance
a little.
     "It's dogs," Robin said nervously. "They're coming fast, too.
I think we'd better get out of here. Oh, my goodness-!"
     He broke off as the first hounds appeared over the brow of the
hill and headed straight down toward them. The noise of their baying
filled the air.
     Robin blew valiantly on his harmonica, kicking Merry's
painted sides at the same time. But Merry had never seen a pack of
hounds. With a frightened whinny she bounded sideways, then
backwards, then began running in frantic circles heedless of
Robin's shouts or tuggings on the reins. The hounds streamed past
them, then as if belatedly realizing what they had seen, swirled
like a river meeting a hidden obstacle and eddied back around the
circling mare. At that moment the Hunt itself came over the hill.
     "What's that?" shrieked the terrified Merry, tightening her
circles until Robin had to cling fast to her pole to keep from
being hurled off.
     "Real Horses!" he managed to gasp out, swiveling his head to
stare at the swiftly approaching throng. "And men in pink coats!
It's a fox-hunt, Merry! Oh, jeepers, I do think we'd better
leave-"
     It was too late. "Real Horses!" neighed Merry, and stood perfectly
 still. Next instant, with bugles sounding, hounds yapping,
and hearty voices shouting "Tally-ho!" the Fox-Hunters were
upon them and they were surrounded.

Chapter 3

     ROBIN'S first and strongest reaction to the
Fox-Hunters was a desire to put his fingers in his cars. He
thought he had never heard quite so much noise. Hunters, horses, hounds,
all talked at once; saddles squeaked, bridles jingled, and nobody
stayed still for half a second. What with the black-and-white dogs
swirling underfoot, the pink coats surging above, and horses
prancing, tossing their heads and switching their shining tails, the
whole meadow was full of milling confusion.
     Patting Merry, who was staring with wide eyes at the Real
Horses, Robin tried to sort out the babble of voices into something
more sensible than "Tally-ho!" "Jolly rum, what?" "Take
em to Yoicks!" and "Odd breedin'!" Suddenly there was a piercing
blast on the hunting horn, and the hubbub quieted somewhat,
though not much.
     "Tally-ho, well-met, and all that," boomed a hearty voice in
Robin's left ear, and someone clapped him on the back with such
excessive friendliness that he was almost knocked from the saddle.
Clutching at Merry's pole, he turned to see the nearest Huntsman
beaming at him affably, and leaning from his horse to extend a
large hand.
     Robin submitted his own to a bone-crushing but fortunately
brief grip, and said "Tally-ho," which seemed to he the accepted
greeting among these people.
     "Resident of the County? What's your Pack? Don't think I've
had the pleasure," the other went on rapidly. His gaze had shifted
to Merry, at whom everybody else in sight, animal or human, was
staring fascinatedly.
     "Well, I-" Robin began, wondering what sort of Pack was
meant, and which question to answer first.
     "Speak up, can't quite hear you," boomed the Huntsman. "I'm
the Whipper-In-name's Wirewither. Questions quite in order.
Take 'em one at a time, speak up. Name, please?"
     "Robin Brown," said Robin, making an effort to speak up.
     "Resident of the County?"
     "Well-what county is this, sir? I live in Clackamas County,
Oregon, U.S.A.," Robin added, so that everything would be perfectly clear.
     At once the undertone of noise and conversation rose to a babble
again, with the hounds joining in freely, Robin noticed. "Furriners."
"Thought as much." "Accounts for the rum breedin'."
"Take 'em to Yoicks."'Poachin'!  Only thing to do."
     The Whipper-In raised his riding crop, and the noise abated
somewhat.
     "There's only one County," he told Robin disapprovingly.
"Never heard of that other place. They have Packs there?"
     "Well," Robin said, swallowing. "I once belonged to Cub
Scout Pack 23. Is that what you-"
     "Tell you what it is, chaps," interrupted the Whipper-In, who
was still examining Merry. "Back's too short, that's what. Too
small all over, actually. Still, a nice little mare. Got a bit of
fence rail caught in her saddle, hasn't she? Odd thing to happen.
Accident while jumping?" He pointed to Merry's pole, then suddenly
seemed to realize what Robin had said, and turned a shocked gaze
on him. "Cub scouts, you say? Not at all the thing! No, no! Can't
allow that here. Hunt the full-grown fox, that's all."
     "I don't hunt anything," Robin said exasperatedly. "And
that's not a fence rail, that's a merry-go-round pole. And-"
     "Ah, kennel-boy, eh? Thought you didn't quite look bred for
huntin'. No offense!" Another hearty clap on the back nearly unseated
Robin. "Probably jolly good kennel-boy. Don't doubt it for
a minute. Nice little mare, I must say. How's her mouth? Here,
make room there, let's see her action."
     "I'm not a kennel-boy," protested Robin, but nobody heard
him. The entire Hunt had lost what little interest it had ever
had in him, and was concentrating on Merry. The hounds were whistled
to one side, the horses and Huntsmen pressed back into a ring,
and everybody began rapping out orders for Robin to show his mare's
gaits, to put her at that hedge yonder, to back her, to wheel
her.
     "All I'll be able to do is wheel her," Robin sighed, though nobody
heard him. Merry 'vas prancing nervously, trembling with
self-consciousness, and Robin knew perfectly well that even if she
managed to hear the harmonica over the Hunt's uproar, she would
do nothing but run in circles. Nevertheless, he blew a chord or
two as loudly as he could, and rode her around and around while the
huntsmen commented in loud, astonished voices on her bounding
canter, and shouted a hundred different questions about her
training.
     "She isn't trained at all," Robin yelled finally, pulling the excited
little mare to a halt. "She's a merry-go-round horse, and
she was only just learning to go in a straight line when you came, and
now she's forgotten, and I wish you'd all go away!"
The Huntsmen caught just enough of this speech to comprehend
the problem, which aroused their joyful enthusiasm.
     "Goes in circles, he says!" "Fancy!" "Rum show-circles!"
"Challenge, what?" "Take 'em to Yoicks!" "Double-lead ropes,
what?" "Oh, I say, just the thing! Let's have a spare leather,
there.
Wirewither! Got a spare leather?"
     Robin gave up trying to make himself heard, as he had already
given up his hopes of avoiding the boisterous Fox-Hunters and
going his own way. At least they were not unfriendly, he
reflected, though he soon began to wonder if their overwhelming heartiness
were not almost as bad as downright hostility. They surged about
him and Merry, busily attached spare reins to her gilded bridle
and barked suggestions at each other, terrifying the little mare and
causing her to shy this way and that, and they kept clapping
Robin encouragingly on the back, nearly knocking the breath out
of him each time. Eventually the straps and buckles and lead-ropes
were arranged to their satisfaction, and the hunting horn
sounded.
     "Off we go!" bellowed the Whipper-In jovially, giving a last
resounding whack to Robin's shoulder. "Just stick your saddle,
have you at view-Halloo in no time. Ho, Tally-HO!"
     On "HO" the entire Hunt surged into motion, the hounds
streaming ahead up the hill. Robin blew a hasty chord on the
harmonica, more to reassure Merry than to coax her into action,
for she could not have stayed behind had she wanted to. The
Huntsmen, Robin had to admit, understood how to solve horsey
problems. They had buckled a spare length of rein to each end of
Merry's golden bit, and two pink-coated riders had taken their
places on either side of her, each holding one of these
lead-straps taut. Thus, when they spurred up the hill, Merry and Robin
went along-and in a perfectly straight line-whether they wanted to
or not.
     "Robin!" quavered the little mare in a frightened whinny.
'I'm being captured. Is that all right?"
     "It's got to be, I guess," Robin told her. "Don't be scared,
Merry, I'm sure they don't mean to hurt us. And they are teaching
you to go in a nice straight line!"
     "I'd rather you taught me," Merry said dismally. "I don't think
hike their way. Oh, Robin, there's a stone 'wall-right in front of us!"
     "You'll have to jump," Robin gulped, grabbing for the pole.
Next minute Merry and both her escorts had sailed neatly over the
wall and landed running on the other side. Glancing over his
shoulder, Robin saw the rest of the Huntsmen sail over too, in pairs
and threes, without breaking stride.
     "I say, very bad form to cling to that fence-rail," shouted the
Huntsman on his left disapprovingly. "Lean forward, give your
mare her head. Needs a bit of instruction-bad technique!" he
explained loudly to the right-hand huntsman.
     "Not his fault, of course," bellowed the right-hand Huntsman
kindly. "Only a kennel-boy. Besides, confusing to have a fence-
rail in the saddle. Odd thing to happen, what?"
"It's not a fence-rail," Robin said hopelessly, but nobody heard
him, and there was a tall hedge looming up ahead, so he concentrated
on giving Merry her head and trying not to grab her pole as over they went.
     It seemed to Robin they jumped a hundred hedges, ditches and
stone walls, and galloped over miles of rolling country, before
the Hunt swept over the brow of a last hill and at the sound of the
hunting horn came to a halt before a gate in a whitewashed; five-
barred fence. Over the gate hung a large red sign with gold letters
that spelled out "View-Halloo." Beyond, a great saucer-shaped
valley spread out in the midday sunshine. It was dotted with
thatched cottages interspersed with larger pink-stone houses,
numerous grassy pastures, and clumps of trees, and entirely surrounded
by the high five-bar fence. In the exact center of the valley, an
imposing mansion of scarlet brick stood in the midst of
stables, kennels, outbuildings, gardens and spacious lawns.
     "Why, it's a town." Robin exclaimed.
     "View-Halloo," explained the left-hand Huntsman, waving
his crop toward the valley. "County Seat. Taking you to the Master.
Proper form, y'know."
     "Who's the Master? What Master?" Robin asked anxiously,
as the gate was opened by someone inside the fence.
     "Master of Foxhounds," the right-hand Huntsman told him.
"Yoicks III, MFH. Queen Tantivy. Gracious rulers and all that.
Up to them what to do with you."
     "Oh!" Robin said uneasily. "A king and queen? What will
they do with us?"
     "Can't say, I'm sure. Up to them, y'know. Mustn't be afraid,"
the Huntsman added encouragingly. "Very good sort, Yoicks and
Queen Tantivy. Sporting. Sure to insist on fair play all around."
     There was no time to argue or even ask more questions, for
they were moving again, through the gate and down a wide bridle-
path into View-Hallo. A few moments later the Hunt was dismounting
in the huge stableyard behind the scarlet mansion, and
Robin and Merry were conducted through a long flagged passage
to an enormous hall, and into the presence of Yoicks III, Master
of Foxhounds, and Queen Tantivy.
     "Well, well! By Jove! My word!" roared Yoicks jovially,
leaning forward in his high-backed chair and leveling a monocle
at Merry. "What have we here? Look at that, M'lady! Fence-rail
sticking right up from the saddle! Odd sort of arrangement, what?
Odd sort of fence-rail, come to think of it. Gilded. Twisted."
          "Very odd," said Tantivy sharply. Like Yoicks, she was tall,
rangy, and leather-faced, but dressed in a battered riding skirt.
Both wore pink satin coats. "Can't say I like it. Dashed inconvenient
for the rider. Gaudy, too. Never liked gilt. Dashed poor form."
          Robin opened his mouth to explain for what seemed the fiftieth
dine that Merry's pole was not a fence rail lodged by accident in
the pommel of her saddle, but he never found a chance to say a
word. When Yoicks was not booming something, Tantivy was;
and when both of them were momentarily silent, the Whipper-In
was explaining how and where the Hunt had discovered the
strangers, or giving a garbled account of Robin's membership in
some shocking Pack that hunted cubs, or the left-hand Huntsman
was displaying the double-lead straps that had brilliantly
defeated Merry's curious urge to run in circles, or the hounds, who had
followed the Huntsmen into the hall, were criticizing Robin's jumping
technique, or the right-hand Huntsman was shouting kindly
that it wasn't the boy's fault of course, Couldn't expect good
technique, only a kennel-boy.
          "I'm NOT a kennel-boy!" Robin yelled at last, losing his
temper completely. For an instant there was a perfectly astonished
Silence. Seizing his chance, Robin added quickly, "My name is
Robin Brown and this is my merry-go-round horse and we came
here by mistake and all we want to do is go away again, if you could
please show us the way out of your country-I mean County. If
you please." He took a long breath, patted Merry's trembling neck,
and smiled.
     "Not a kennel-boy, he says," Yoicks said faintly, turning the
monocle on Robin and peering at him.
     "Must be," snapped Tantivy. "Not old enough for a groom.
Make a good kennel-boy, anyway. Spots'll teach him. Send the
boy to Spots, Whipper.
     "Ah, Spots!" Yoicks looked at her approvingly. "Capital plan.
Spots'll teach him. Mare ought to be trained, I think."
     ''Oh, my word, yes!'' agreed his lady. ''First-rate jumper,
Whipper says. Train the mare, Whipper. Mare to the stables, boy
to Spots. Dismissed. I say, tell 'em to bring our tea!"
     "But-" Robin began frantically.
     Nobody heard him. He and Merry were hustled unceremoniously
out of the hall, down the flagged passage, and into the
hubbub of the stableyard, where the rest of the Huntsmen and horses still
milled about, all talking jovially at once.
     "They're as bad as the McGudgeys," Robin shouted hopelessly
to Merry. "Worse! I don't 'want to stay here and be a
kennel boy!"
     "And I don't want to be trained," wailed Merry. "Let's run
away, Robin! I'd rather be back on the merry-go-round than
here!"
     "Remember the five-bar fence," Robin sighed. Then, seeing
that Merry's lip was trembling again, he patted her scarlet neck
and added firmly, "Never mind, I'll think of something. Just put
up with them for a while, and do what they say, and I'll get us
out of here sooner or later, I promise! Oh dear-here conies the
Whipper-In to take me to Spots, whoever that is. Goodbye,
Merry-don't worry, I'll find a way
     A moment later he was being hurried off in one direction, while
Merry was dragged, balking and prancing, in another.

Chapter 4

     FAR to the northeast of View-Hallo and
the Quadling Land of the Fox-Hunters-in fact, in the exact center
of the Munchkin Country of Oz-lies a shield-shaped valley. It is
surrounded on two of its three sides by a high, crenelated wall,
and bordered on the north by the wild Munchkin Mountains. This is
the beautiful Valley of the Argent, and it is divided by the broad
and quietly-flowing River Argent into two quaint little feudal
kingdoms: Halidom and Troth.

     Now, on the very same morning that Robin and Merry
tumbled unceremoniously into the Fox-Hunters' hawthorn hedge,
two strange and alarming events took place in the city of Pax-
on-Argent, capital of Halidom.
     First, every native-born inhabitant of the country awoke that
morning to find himself stricken with a mysterious malady.
     Second, a pageboy named Fess-who was not a native of Halidom
but came from Troth, across the river-went into the palace
Treasury as usual to feed the Wyver, stubbed his toe, and thereby
made the horrendous discovery of what was the matter with every-
body.
     Halidom was, unfortunately, no stranger to horrendous discoveries.
The little country had already suffered two National
Disasters in as many generations. Before the Disasters, in what
the Halidomians were apt to refer to, wistfully, as "the good old
days,"
Halidom and Troth had been much alike, with their fields of azure,
their mulberry orchards, their castles set in gardens of
fleer-de-lys, roses, trefoils, citrophilous and cinquefoils, their stately
forests of pageant trees and family trees, and their abundance of animals. In
the shady glens of the forests lived harts, fawns, bucks, swine
and flittermice. Cocks and drakes strutted in every courtyard and falcons circled majestically overhead, while mischievous blue-and-
white-striped popinjays fluttered about the villages, stealing the
good wives' thimbles and spoons and hairpins, or any other bright
objects they could carry in their thieving beaks. On the Sandbar
Sinister, a barren and dismal island in the middle of the River
Argent to which both kingdoms exiled their lawbreakers. gyrons
and wyvers scuttled among the teazle bushes. In the mountains to
the north lived more dangerous animals-leopards, lioncels and
dragons-which the noble youths of both states rode out to slay, in
order to win knighthood. The departure of such a Questing Party
made a stirring sight, with the sun glinting on blued-steel armor,
pennants flying, steeds and chargers prancing, and many dogs
barking-for no beast-questing could be done without the grey-
hounds, the talbots, the big, crop-eared alaunds and the little,
keen-nosed kanets.
     The chief industry of Troth was the making of Blue Armor,
with shields to match, and the forging of Questing Swords and
Jousting Lances. The demand for the latter was particularly brisk,
since jousting was the favorite sport of both the states, and on a
good sunny day the breakage of lances was tremendous. Troth was,
in fact, not a monarchy but a thriving armory, energetically ruled
by King Armo 59th and his gracious queen, Paty, and its Academy
of the Art of Jousting drew scholars from far and wide.
     Halidom, on the other hand, was a heraldry, ruled-under
dreadful handicaps in these times-by King Herald 64th and Queen
Farthingale, with occasional discouraged assistance from their
son, Prince Gules. Once, in those good old days the people sighed
for, Halidom had been as thriving as Troth, boasting an excellent
University of Genealogy and a flourishing trade in elegant coats-
of-arms, which the Halidom artisans designed to order and then
drew on parchment or wove into cloth. In those days, the skill of
Halidom artisans was so famous that there was scarcely a royal
family in all Oz that could feel truly royal until it had a genuine
Halidom-designed coat-of-arms hanging on the palace wall, or its
family crest woven by Halidom weavers into the throne-room
draperies. And since there are hundreds of tiny kingdoms in Oz,
all with royal families anxious to feel truly royal, the orders had
poured in, and Halidom had prospered.
     All that was now long past, because of National Disasters I
and II, which had struck at the very source of the kingdom's prosperity:
its powerful Crown Magic.
     Now, Halidom's Crown Magic, which had been bestowed on
the little kingdom in ancient times by the Fairy Lurline, consisted
of three Golden Circlets. Circlet One, which was large enough
to be worn around the base of the king's crown, conferred upon all
the Halidomians excellent brains and even wisdom. Circlet Two,
worn on the king's upper arm, gave physical strength to all his
subjects. The third and smallest circlet, worn on the king's
thumb,
made them skillful in all handicrafts, particularly drawing, calligraphy, weaving and embroidery. For centuries these Circlets had
remained safe in the possession of the royal family, and the people
had been wise, strong, and skillful.
     Then, in the reign of the present King's grandfather, Herald
62nd, the first National Disaster struck. Circlet One was lost. One
day when the King happened to be using it to play quoits with on
the palace grounds, it rolled away into a rabbit-hole, and in spite
of much digging and searching was never seen again. Of course,
this served Herald 62nd right for being so careless with it; how-
ever, it served his innocent subjects very wrongly, for upon the loss
of the Circlet the whole country became slow of wit and not even
very bright. The University was soon forced to close its doors be-
cause no one was smart enough any longer to teach Genealogy.
     National Disaster II occurred in the time of Herald 63rd. This
Herald, father of the present King, was washing dishes on the
cook's night out (it was the Queen's turn to dry) and he had taken
the smallest Circlet off his thumb and put it on the windowsill.
No sooner had he picked up his dishrag than a popinjay swooped
down, snatched the bright Circlet in its beak, and carried it off-
and it was never seen again. Immediately the Halidomians lost all
their skill with the pen and brush, the loom and needle, and could
design crests and coats-of-arms no better than anybody else.
     Naturally, trade dwindled to nothing, and hard times settled
down upon the little kingdom. By the time of the present King,
Herald 64th, every castle roof was patched and leaky, every velvet
cloak was threadbare. For years now the country had been scraping
along by selling pageant tree seedlings, bouquets of trefoils
and citrophilous, and a few fleer-de-lys bulbs.
     Circlet Two, the only one remaining, had been placed under
close guard and was still safe, so the Halidomians still had their
strength, and jousted as much as ever-with mended lances, since
nobody could afford to buy new ones. But jousting was all they
had now to occupy their patched and shabby lives, and as Herald
64th often remarked to his queen in his wistful and rather dim-
witted way, it somehow didn't seem enough.
     Still, the Halidomians managed to be vaguely happy, though
slow-witted and poor, until the morning Fess the pageboy stubbed
his toe.

     It had been raining for a week, but that particular Thursday
dawned as fair and bright as anybody could have wanted it to, and
Fess, who very much wanted it to, gave a whoop of joy as he
tumbled out of bed and rushed to the window.
     "Barry, Barry!." he shouted to the other page who shared his
tower bedchamber. "The rain's over!. It's going to he a perfect
day for the Tourney'."
     "Whunf?" mumbled Barry, who always slept with his head
under the covers.

     Fess dashed across the room and yanked back the blanket. "It's
a fine day!, Get up, lazybones!"
     "I'm not lazy, I'm tired," sighed Barry, slowly dragging the
covers back over him.
     "'I'm tired! A fine time to be tired! Don't you remember? It's the
joust between Sir Greves and Sir Gauntlet today. At last!" Fess
added, scarcely able to believe it.
     The two knights were traditional enemies, though there was
nothing personal about their famous feud. 'They had merely infer-
iced it from their fathers, who had inherited it from their fathers,
and so on into the dim past. Nobody knew or cared what the original
quarrel had been about, but everybody knew it was the lifework
of every Sir Treves to fight every Sir Gauntlet as hard and
often as possible. For generations the two families had honorably
discharged this duty, without the slightest thought of losing their
tempers over the matter. But in the present generation things had
not worked out properly at all. The current Sir Treves, a mild-
faced, apologetic little knight, was forever postponing the match,
sending word at the last moment that he'd caught a chill, or had
to get his hair cut, or really ought to prune the roses. The current
Sir Gauntlet, who became more frustrated, quick-tempered and
sensitive every time his challenge was turned down, was by now so
touchy that the whole kingdom had breathed a sigh of relief when
the joust was finally announced.
     "I really thought they'd never get around to it," Fess said as
he began flinging on his clothes. "Why, they've been putting it
off for years!"

     "Probably do it again today," murmured Barry faintly.
     "Oh, no they won't! Sir Treves sent the challenge himself this
time! Prince Gules said yesterday . . ." Fess stopped in the act
of fastening his belt and frowned at his roommate. "Say, you do act
sick or something! "What's the matter?"
     "Just tired. Too tired to do my chores. Too tired to get
up." Barry yawned cavernously. "Too tired to stay awake, even.
G'night." He drifted back to sleep.
     "Well, by my bends and buckler!" exclaimed Fess, who possessed
neither of these items, not being a knight yet. For a moment
he stared in concern at his exhausted companion, who was usually
bouncing with vigor. 'Then, reflecting that he never would become
a knight if he didn't get on with his duties he hurriedly clasped his
belt and reached for his curly-toed shoes.
     Barry was the youngest child of the palace chef and had no
great expectations in life beyond being a kitchen-page, but Fess
was the son of a nobleman of Troth, and like many of the high-
born Trothian youths, had been sent "abroad" across the Argent,
to receive his training in some grand household of Halidom. In
Fess's case, this grand household was the palace itself. For a year
now he had been a page; when the King thought him worthy,
he would become a squire; after proving his worth as a squire he
would return to Troth, go on a Quest, and become a knight. He
longed for this great day to come; but he was quite aware that it
never would if he were not a good page.
     Jamming on his favorite cap with the popinjay feather, he
turned again, frowning, to his sleeping friend.
     "Barry! You'd better wake up and get down to the kitchen'."
he said. A gentle snore was his only answer. "Oh, well, all right.
But you'll catch it if your father has to carry the breakfast trays!"
Leaving this warning to do its work, he ran out of the room and
down the Tower stairs, whistling.
     As he hurried through the palace corridors, he wondered at
how quiet everything was. He heard none of the usual early-
morning bustle among the servants and saw not a soul except one
chambermaid languidly waving a feather-duster over the Queen's
throne. Deciding it must be even earlier than he had thought,
he strode briskly down the back hall and out into the sunny
courtyard. A few drakes squatted about the stone well, but the
palace cock, he noted with surprise, did not seem to be awake
yet, for there was no sign of him.
     Fess's first duty each day was to feed the palace animals. In
the case of the dozen or so horses and the thirty Questing dogs,
this was merely a matter of overseeing their feeding by the
grooms and kennel-boys; but there were a few special animals
to whom he always attended personally. Before starting for the
stables, therefore, he went into a little broom-shed in one corner
of the courtyard, and peered through the half-gloom toward the
shelf where his pet flittermouse liked to sleep, curled underneath
one of Fess's old caps. The cap was there, undisturbed. Fess lifted
it carefully, and smiled. The Flittermouse was still sound asleep,
his gauzy, bat-like wings folded over his tiny, glossy, gray-blue
body. It seemed a shame to wake him.
     Fess replaced the cap and tiptoed out of the shed, taking a pan
of corn from another shelf as he passed. This he scattered about
the courtyard for the drakes, then went on to the stables. We was
surprised to find that more than half the horses were lying down
in their stalls; surprise turned to indignation when he caught sight
of the two grooms, Bodkin and Seuteheon, sitting limply on a pile
of hay in the corner.
     "What are you doing, lazing about there!" he demanded ,glaring
down at them with his fists on his hips. "Why. you haven't
even cleaned the stalls or mixed the bran mash! Up with you! Get
busy!"
     "Yes, Master Fess. Right away, Master Fess," said the grooms
feebly, struggling to their feet.
     "What's the matter, are you sick?" Fess demanded in a less
belligerent tone.
     "Just tired, Master Fess," sighed Bodkin, shuffling toward the
bran bin.
     "Never been so tired in my life," groaned Scutcheon as he
picked up a pitchfork.
     "You, too? That's funny," Fess said, remembering Barry.
"Say, why are so many of the horses lying down?"
     "They're tired, same as us," Bodkin told him. "I heard the
Queen's Palfrey tell the King's Charger so. Ask 'em yourself, if
you don't believe me.
     Frowning, Less hurried to the stalls, where the horses were
slowly clambering to their feet with every appearance of utter
weariness. The Queen's Palfry assured him that she had never
felt such lassitude. and indeed, was afraid she might l)e having a
fit of the vapors, and begged him to fetch her smelling-salts or
possibly a little hartshorn and water. The King's Charger said
gruffly that he was right as rain, of course, though he did feel a bit
liverish, and thought he might have caught a chill. Prince Gules's
Steed, Fred, said haughtily that it was true he didn't feel quite the
thing, very likely because of the riding party yesterday.
     "The riding party? But we only went over to Lady Mace's
for tea, and it was scarcely raining at all, and you wore your best
blanket," Fess protested.
     "I was not referring to the possibility of a chill," Fred informed
him remotely. "Possibly you were not aware of it, but
while you and His Highness my master were drinking tea, I was
forced to associate with some very low company. Hacks, and
Palfreys, and I know not what inferior creatures. Lady Mace's
stables seem to be full of them."
     "Now, now," Fess said coaxingly. "Of course Lady Mace and
her granddaughter keep riding-horses, and not jousting-horses!
I ask you, how would it look for pretty young Lady Annelet to
ride out on a Steed or a Charger?"
     Fred permitted himself a small neigh of laughter, and admitted
that it would not be at all the thing. "I do wish, however," he
added, "that the next time we call on the ladies, you would require
a private box stall for me. After all, I am not a mere riding horse,
but the Prince's Steed, and I expect very soon to be promoted to
Charger. It is not fitting that I should have to associate with lesser
animals. As you know perfectly well, Master Less, I come of a
very aristocratic family. Why, my first cousin is a Destrier!"
     "Yes, I know! The finest in all Halidom I'm sure, Fred! Don't
worry, I'll-"
     "And I beg you not to call me by that plebian name!" Fred
interrupted fretfully.
     "I'm sorry, Federigo," Fess sighed, patting the Steed's shining
black neck. Fred's airs grew rather tiresome at times, but Fess
was fond of him, and almost never forgot to call him by the elegant
name he had thought up for himself. The Prince, to Fred's
distress, almost never remembered.
     Fess stayed in the stables only long enough to make sure Hodkin
and Scutcheon were going about their duties, however languidly,
then hurried to the kennels. There he found the old kennel-man
shuffling about in slow motion, filling dishes for the dogs,
who were as tired as he was. Even the big, husky alaunds and the
bouncing little kanets seemed to have lost all their energy.
     Thoroughly uneasy by now, Fess hurried toward the flower-
garden to get breakfast for the Unicorn. As he emerged into the
courtyard he halted at sight of one of the gardeners standing motionless
beside the well, a sprinkling can in one hand and a scrap
of paper in the other.
     "What's wrong with you?" Fess demanded.
     The man blinked sleepily at him and held out the paper. "Page-
boy came just now. Message for the Master of Tournaments. No
joust today."
     "Oh, dragonflies!" Fess exclaimed crossly as he took the note.
"Has Sir Treves canceled it again?"
     "Not Sir Treves. Sir Gauntlet."

     "What?" Fess cried incredulously. "Sir Gauntlet's canceled it?"
     "S'truth. It was Sir Gauntlet's page that came. Says his master's
tired. Too weak to lift his lance. Says Sir Treves magicked
him." The gardener interrupted himself with an enormous yawn.
     "Magic!" Fess echoed in alarm. "But that's illegal! That's
awful! That's-I'll bet that's what's the matter with everybody!"
He flung the note at the startled gardener and dashed up the back
steps of the palace. Bursting into the kitchen, he saw the chef
and scullery maids slumped about in chairs, with breakfast not even
started. Barry, who had finally put in an appearance, had curled
up in the sink and fallen asleep again.
     "Fix the King's oatmeal, at least!" Less begged the cook. "I'll
take it to him myself, as soon as I feed the Wyver."
     Snatching a plate of last night's martlet pudding from the cup-
board, he almost ran through the still silent and empty corridors
to the Treasury, a small room once heaped with the riches of a
prosperous kingdom. There were no riches nowadays, of course,
but in the center of the room stood a large, hollowed-out block
of marble called the Treasure Stone, within which rested the last
remaining Golden Circlet of Halidom. On top of the Stone, covering
the hollow like a lid, rested the basket of the Wyver.
     Now, Wyvers, who are plump, winged creatures resembling
miniature dragons, are not dangerous or ill-tempered animals,
but they never sleep, and when alarmed they utter a piercing
cry that can be heard for miles. Therefore they make excellent
guards, and this one had years before been brought especially
from the Sandbar Sinkter to guard the Circlet night and day.
All through the reign of the present Herald he had kept faithful
watch. Fess, who fed him twice daily, had never yet seen the
scaly, golden eyelids so much as drooping.
     But this morning, when he hurried into the Treasury, he
found the Wyver's eyes tight closed. The creature was curled
in its basket, wings folded, tail quiet-and it was snoring
loudly.
     For an instant Less was too shocked to do anything but
stare at it. Then he rushed forward, stubbed his toe on a corner
of the rug, and fell headlong. One of his out flung hands
struck the corner of the basket, tipping it over and spilling the
Wyver out upon the floor. The creature lay where it had fallen,
and continued to sleep, but Less was no longer paying any attention
to it. His horrified eyes were fixed on the exposed hollow
in the Treasure Stone.
     The hollow was empty. The last Golden Circlet of Halidom
was gone.

Chapter 5

     ONCE recovered from his first shock, Fess scrambled to his
feet, ran to the peacefully sleeping Wyver and shook it urgently,
shouting to it to wake up. Nothing he did had the slightest effect.
It continued to snore.
     "Drugged!" gasped Fess. He dashed out of the Treasury
and through the shabby throne-room to the stairs. Forgetting
all about the King's oatmeal, he bounded up the steps three at
a time, ran full tilt down the second-floor hall and slid to a
halt before the King's bedchamber, where he began pounding
     "Flnnph?" said a sleepy voice within.
     "Wake up, Your Majesty!" shouted Fess. "Let me I
     "Pnlffnf," replied the voice in indistinct but offended tones
     "I know you're tired, but you must wake up anyhow, and
let me in!" Fess begged at the top of his voice, renewing his
pounding. "Please, Your Majesty! Somebody's drugged the
Waver and stolen Circlet Two! Your Majesty! Your Ma-je sty!
Did you hear me? I said--"
The door opened, reveling Herald 64th in his blue nightshirt,
with his crown on backwards over his uncombed hair.
He was blinking reproachfully.

     "Why are you so noisy this morning?" he said. "You aren't-
supposed to wake me, anyhow. Where's Barry? He's supposed
to wake me, eh? Where's my oatmeal? I don't want to get up
until I've had my oatmeal."
"I forgot it, Your Majesty, and I'll fetch it, but please listen
to me! The Circlet has been stolen! I went in to feed the
Waver, and-
"The Circlet?" said Herald, his faded blue eyes wide and
hurt. "My Circlet? It's-gone, you say?"
     "Yes!" Fess said, thankful to have made him understand
"Now everybody in the palace is tired, like you Probably
everybody in the kingdom"
     "You aren't," the King said doubtfully.
     "But I'm from Troth, Your Majesty! The Circlet's magic
doesn't affect me. Oh, please let me in, and I'll explain every-
thing!"
     It took some time, because the King, who had always believed
in setting an example, was possibly the slowest-witted
of all his slow-witted country men; and just as Fess had managed
to make the crisis clear to him, Queen Farthingale, disturbed by
the voices, trailed in sleepily from the adjoining room
and inquired in her vague and gentle way if anything were the
matter.
     Patiently, Fess started to explain all over again, greatly hindered
by the King's attempts to help. Then, just as the Queen
had grasped the news, Prince Rules walked in, leaned wearily
against a potted plant, which instantly crashed to the floor, and
demanded an explanation in his turn.
     "Oh, dear," Fess sighed, and began again. He had to talk
more loudly than ever now, because the Queen kept interrupting with
piercing little wails of dismay, and the King was pattering
animatedly (though still sleepily) about the room, tugging
on bellcords and wringing his hands and insisting that somebody
bring his oatmeal, eh?
     Moreover, other people in the palace had by this time discovered
the open Treasury door, the sleeping Waver and the
theft, and a perfect procession of servants, pages, pet dogs,
chamberlains and guards began panting wearily up the stairways
to the King's chamber, to announce the catastrophe.
     In desperation, Fess finally seized one of the guards and
posted him at the door to fend off other news-bearers, ordered
a passing scullery boy to wake the Privy Councilor, sent a couple
of footmen to summon the Courtiers' Council, and pushed
the rest of the people and dogs out of the King's bedroom. Then,
begging the royal family to get dressed, he pelted down the
stairs in search of the King's oatmeal.
     This delivered, he had time to catch his breath. Instantly
he remembered the Flittermouse, who had not yet had its milk.
The broom-shed was still dim and quiet, and his cap was still
in place upon the shelf; but this time he lifted it off and roused
his little pet.
     "Wake up, Flitter!" he urged. "Wake up, something terrible
has happened!"
     The gauzy wings stirred, and a small, gray-blue mouse-face
with delicate long whiskers and eyes like black sequins peered
up at him. "Oh, aren't we going to the Tourney?" inquired
the Flittermouse in a squeaky, disappointed voice. "Well, never
mind, Fess dear. I'm too sleepy anyhow."
     "I don't think there'll be any Tourney," Fess said, gently
picking the little creature up in his hand. Wings and all, it just
fitted comfortably into his palm. He explained, for the dozenth
time that morning, what had happened.
     "Oh, my," Flitter squeaked in alarm. "That's perfectly
frightening, isn't it, Fess? Or is it?" he added, eyeing Fess
doubtfully. "Should I be frightened?"
     "No, I'll take care of you," Fess promised, lifting his pet to
its accustomed perch on his shoulder. "And I'm all right, but I
don't know what these poor Halidomians are going to do, if
they can't even joust any more! Imagine Sir Gauntlet being too
weak to lift his lance!"
     "A person could make up a little song about that," the Flittermouse
said earnestly. "I can't think of one right now,
though."
     "'Never mind," soothed Fess, who was not surprised. Flitter,
being as slow-witted as the rest of the country, never managed
to think of his little songs until the event which had inspired
them was long gone by. "You'll think of one later, I'm
sure. Right now you can come along with me while I help get
things ready for the Courtiers' Council."
     Within half an hour King Herald, Queen Farthingale, and
Prince Rules had managed to shuffle downstairs to their thrones,
and soon the courtiers began to creep in, weary and weak, to
gather around them. Fess, who was trying to be everywhere at
once to help the tottering. chamberlains, carried in a chair for
Lady Mace, because she was the oldest courtier, and for her
pretty granddaughter Lady Annelet, because she was the youngest
and was betrothed to Prince Rules, but gave up trying to
find any more. The rest of the courtiers were obliged to stand,
leaning against the columns or supporting each other by the
elbows. Occasionally someone would fall asleep in spite of himself,
sit down suddenly on the floor with a clang of armor, and
thankfully stay there.
     Fess had just caught one knight in mid-fall and propped him
against a wall when Barry slipped up behind him and tugged
his sleeve so urgently that the Flittermouse lost his balance.
     "Fess, come quick! Out to the Great Hall."
     "What's wrong now?'" Fess groaned as he hastily followed
his friend.
     "Sir Treves and Sir Gauntlet-they're angry as two lioncels,
and shouting at each other, and the chamberlains are all
too tired to make them listen-and so am I." With a sigh, Barry
stopped short, leaned against a doorway, and went to sleep again.
     Distractedly, Fess hurried on toward the sound of angry
voices. He rushed through the last archway to find a ring of
staring servants surrounding the two knights, who were standing
forehead to forehead in the center of the Great Hall, shouting
each other down. Before Fess could intervene, they actually
did shout each other down, for they were both weaving and
swaying so from weariness that they lost their balance at the
same moment and toppled to the floor. The tremendous crash
of their armor against the flagstones silenced even them for an
instant, and most of the servants collapsed like rag dolls at the
sound. Before the knights had recovered enough to go on arguing
from a sitting position-which they showed signs of doing
-Fess ran forward, and with great presence of mind slammed
down both their vizors.
     "Excuse me, please," he said hurriedly. "But you absolutely
must speak one at a time, or nobody can settle your quarrel!
Don't you know His Majesty is waiting for you?
inside their vizors, which muffled their voices and made them
sound as if they were at the bottom of a well. Fess hastily raised
Sir Gauntlet's vizor.
"  . . . trying to get to the throne room!" Sir Gauntlet was
saying indignantly. "Matter of gravest importance! Fellow
here's been working magic on me! Bad manners! Crime, in fact!

     Fess shut his vizor and opened Sir Treves's. "Sir, he says
you've been working magic on him."
     ''Why, my dear boy, I've been trying to convince the fellow
I've never worked any magic in all my life, and don't even
know how! It's not my fault he's feeling poorly, I don't feel
very well myself today, and I'm very disappointed about the
Tourney because I was just sure I could win this time ... that
is ...well, never mind that, but-well I don't feel good either!"
     "Of course not"' Fess sighed, slamming Sir Greve's vizor
and opening Sir Gauntlet's. "Sir, you're mistaken. You haven't
heard the news, Everybody-"
     "Not mistaken at all! Never been tired in my' life until today!
Beastly business! Magic! Only -explanation! Dreadful-''
     Fess shut the rest off by dropping his vizor. "Please, listen
to me, both of you! Everybody in the kingdom is tired. It's be-
cause the last Circlet has been stolen!"
     The waving arms stopped in mid-gesture; both knights sat
motionless. Cautiously, Fess raised both vizors. Sir Gauntlet's
proud, dark face was turned toward him in astonishment and
consternation; Sir Treves's round, cherubic one had gone
deathly pale, and his innocent blue eyes seemed twice their normal
size.
     "S-stolen, did you say?" he quavered.
     Fess explained, watching Sir Treves's face in some alarm.
It seemed impossible that he could get any paler, but he was doing so.
     "Waver drugged-Circlet gone . . ." the fat little knight
whispered in horrified tones, and began to tremble so violently
that all the sections of his armor jingled together musically.
     "Fellow's going to faint!" exclaimed Sir Gauntlet, staring
at him sympathetically. "Fetch water! Burn feathers under his
nose! Courage, old boy, no need to take on so! National Disaster
and all that, but not permanent! Assure you! Catch the
thief myself! Bring him to justice and all that! Water, somebody!
Here, here, old fellow, I apologize for what I said! Complete
misunderstanding! Hadn't heard the news!"
     By this time Fess had dashed to the ornamental fountain by
the Grand Doorway and dashed back again with a vase of water,
which he poured recklessly over Sir Greve's pallid face. A
moment later the little knight was being helped unsteadily to
his feet by Sir Gauntlet, who pounded him clangingly on the
back with a mailed hand and supported him, trailing drops of
water, down the corridor toward the throne room.
     "Oh, Fess dear, I've thought of the song about Sir Gauntlet," the Flittermouse squeaked.
"Overnight,
Can't fight.
     "Don't you think that's rather good?"
     Since it was quite as good as most of the Flittermouse's songs,
Fess agreed unhesitatingly, and his little pet swelled into a
small gray-blue puffball of pleasure on his shoulder as Fess got the
servants on their feet and about their duties, and hurried after
the two old enemies. He was still rather worried about Sir
Treves, who seemed to be taking the Disaster harder than anybody.
     When he got back to the Throne Room, the Council of
Courtiers had begun. King Herald was pounding feebly on the
arm of the throne with his sceptre, Queen Farthingale was hold-
in her ears as she always did, because she didn't like the noise,
and Pellets, the Privy Councilor, was shouting, "Come to order,
Come to order, Come to order!"
     When all was quiet, the King put down his sceptre, folded
his plump hands across his plumper middle, and said sadly,
"There has been a-er-National Disaster-I'm afraid. Pellets, dear
old thing, will you read the minutes of the last Council? Do we
have any minutes of the last Council?" he added uncertainly.
     "We have minutes, Your Majesty," Pellets sighed, "but
they would stretch into hours if I were to read them all."
     There were a few giggles at this, and King Herald, after a
puzzled moment, laughed very hard indeed, saying, "Hours!
Oh, very funny eh?" while looking anxiously from face to face
to make sure he was laughing at the right thing.
     "Therefore," Pellets continued when the commotion had
died down, "I would suggest we dispense with the reading of
the minutes and proceed directly to the announcements."
     "Yes," the King said quickly. "Oh, yes, I daresay you're
right. Announcements, eh? National Disaster, you mean.
     "Oh, I do wish they would get on with it," Fess whispered
to the Flittermouse.
     While King Herald was bumbling his way through an explanation
of the catastrophe-an explanation greatly lengthened
by interruptions from the Queen and Prince, and greatly complicated
by many references to oatmeal-Fess craned his neck to
see if Sir Treves was feeling any better. To his surprise, he
could not see Sir Treves at all. A quick glance around the room revealed
the missing knight stealthily creeping out the door. Puzzled,
Fess started to follow him, then changed his mind because
the King at that moment completed his explanations and the
throne room began to buzz with talk and ring with cries.
     "Arrest the thief!" exclaimed somebody fiercely.
     "Send him to the Sandbar Sinister!" cried somebody else.
     "No, no, I have it! Find him. Then arrest him!" put in a
third voice in a burst of inspiration.
     "Blow the trumpets first," protested Lady Mace. "Nothing
can be done until the trumpets are blown."
     "But Grandma, what good will the trumpets do?" Lady
Annelet objected.
     "It is the proper First Step," retorted her grandmother severely.
     "Let's organize an army," one of the knights said enthusiastically.
     ''That's against the law," Peliets told him. "No armies, no
wars allowed. Only jousting tourneys."
     Sir Gauntlet, with some difficulty, raised his sword and
waved it feebly. "I will challenge this evildoer to a joust!" he
shouted.
     "Oh, that's a splendid idea!" cried several people.
     "Very satisfactory," agreed Lady Mace. "Trumpets are
always blown before a joust."
     "But Grandma," began Lady Annelet.
     "I say, could someone take a message to the thief, telling
him of Sir Gauntlet's challenge?" the King inquired hopefully.
"That would be just the thing, you know. Eh?"
     "Oh, yes!" the Queen said. "I love a joust!"
     "But Cousin Farthingale," began Lady Annelet.
     "Hush, Annelet," said her grandmother. "Say Queen Farthingale
in Court."
     ''But Grandma, what good will a joust-''
     "Hush, Annelet!"
     Just when Fess was beginning to despair of anything sensible
being said or done, Prince Rules arose from his throne,
held up his hand for silence, and announced, "I have decided
what to do in the National Emergency."
     Fess eyed him dubiously. In appearance, Prince Rules was
everything a prince should be. He was handsome, with his blue-
black hair, his aloof blue eyes, his slim figure and proud carriage.
And though he was a bit condescending in manner, and much
deferred to, he was never unpleasant and not really spoiled. He
was a fine prince-but of course, he was not very bright. And,
as of this morning, he was not very strong, either.
     "What have you decided, dear?" said the queen.
     "I have decided that I, myself, will go and find the Circlet,"
the Prince replied. "In fact, I'll find the other two Circlets too.
I am ready to wander all over Oz-all over the world-to find
them. I am the Prince, and I will save my kingdom. I shall leave
tomorrow.
     There was stunned silence for a moment.
     "Oh, but I say, dear boy," quavered the King. "All over Oz?
I mean to say, out of the kingdom?"
     "The Circlets are not in the kingdom," Gules said simply.
"Or we would have found them long ago. My mind is quite
made up. I shall ride my Steed, and Fess the page shall go with
me. I must avenge Halidom! Besides," Rules added suddenly,
     in quite a different tone, "I want to do something great, Papa!
It's so boring here at the palace. I want to be a famous knight,
and if I find the Circlets, I'll be the most famous knight there
ever was!"
     "Oh, Gules, good for you?' breathed Lady Annelet: "Can
I go too?"
     "OF COURSE YOU MAY NOT, ANNELET!" said
Lady Mace in a terrible voice. "MOST improper. You will
stay safely at home, and knit comforters and things, while your
Brave Prince fares forth into the Unknown World. Hooray for
Prince Rules!"
     "Hooray! HOORAY!" shouted everybody.
     "Hooray," Fess said, feeling more dubious than ever.

     "Fess, dear, are we really going with him?" squeaked the
Flittermouse, bouncing excitedly up and down. "Oh, are we,
really?"
     "Of course," Fess sighed.
     He admired the Prince's bravery very much indeed, but he had
the gravest doubts about the Prince's ability to find the ring or
do anything else. Somebody would have to go with him-to look
after him, and find food for him, and prevent him bungling
everything-and probably to find the Circlets for him as well.
     "Oh, yes, we'll go," Fess said.
     "A person could make up a little song about that!" the Flittermouse
said earnestly.

Chapter 6

     AS SOON as it was known throughout the
palace that Fess was going on a journey, all the palace animals
wanted to go along. This was impossible, of course, but Fess
had great difficulty in convincing them of it. Processions of
grey-hounds and talbots and little kanets followed him around, crying
piteously at the thought of being separated from him for so
much as a day; gloom settled over the stables, and the Queen's
Paifrey had to be given hartshorn and water; only the Waver
could say nothing about the matter, since he was still asleep.
     "But I can't take you all." Fess told them. "You'll be much
better off here, anyway, and Barry is going to feed you while
I'm gone. Go along now, I have lots to do. As for you," he
added severely to Fred, who was unmercifully lording it over
the other horses, "Behave yourself and go get your hooves polished.
You can't go either unless you quit making everybody
else feel bad."
     Subdued by this threat, Fred went away with Bodkin, and
Fess finally managed to escape from the other animals and hurry
to the flower garden. In the excitement he had never brought
the Unicorn her breakfast. She ate only flowers, and preferred,
for her first meal, a dainty basket of trefoils and cinquefoils,
with the dew still on them. It was late in the day for dew now, but
he gathered the trefoils and cinquefoils, sprinkled a little cold
water over them, and went quickly through the ornamental gate into
the special little garden where the Unicorn lived. She was awaiting him patiently, arching her snow-white neck to rub her long,
mother-of-pearl horn against a pear tree, and although she was
as shy and aloof as ever, she did not seem tired.
     "Thank goodness!" Fess exclaimed when she assured him
in her soft voice that she felt quite as usual.
     "Nothing is ever wrong with me, you know," she added,
reaching gracefully for a trefoil.
     "That's true," Fess said thoughtfully. The Unicorn was no
ordinary animal, but the National Emblem, whose image figured
on the Great Seal of Halidom. She was the only known
creature of her kind, * and Fess suspected she was a fairy animal,
since she had been given to the first Herald of Halidom by the
fairy Lurline in ancient days. Probably nothing ever could be
wrong with such a creature. "I guess the Circlet has no power
over you," he said when he had told her about the Disaster. "I'm
all right too, because I'm from Troth."
     "I'm glad," the Unicorn said gently. "As you know, I don't
care much for the others anyway-except the ladies, of course.
Males are usually so rough and boisterous! Except you. I'm devoted
to you."
     Fess thanked her, and asked solicitously if her citrophilous
were crisp enough, but his mind was on preparations for the
journey, and he soon excused himself, explaining that he had
much to do.
     "Oh, take me with you!" the Unicorn begged, pawing wistfully
with her golden hoof. "I'm so bored these days, with never
a pageant to appear in, and never an artist asking me to pose for
a royal crest! Really, nothing is as it used to be in Halidom! I
feel I've lost caste. What distinction is there in being the Emblem
of such a run-down kingdom? Selling bulbs and tree-
shoots for a living! Why, it's In Trade! I don't even have any
Attendant Maidens nowadays, and nobody's woven a daisy
chain for my neck in I don't know when!"
     Fess promised he would weave her one as soon as he came
back to Halidom, but explained that he couldn't take her with
him.

     * At least, the only one known in Halidom and Troth. There are
other unicorns in Oz, as all scholars of Ozology know. But I'm not a bit
sure they were fairy unicorns, are you?

Tears welled up in her long-lashed golden eyes. "But I can't
endure not to be with you," she said in a trembling voice. "I
don't want Barry to bring my breakfast! I don't like boys-ex-
CET you. I don't like this garden any more. I don't like Halidom,
either! I'll be lonesome."
     "Now, please don't cry. I'll come back as soon as I possibly
can," Fess assured her, and hurried away, leaving her sniffing
gently and toying with her trefoils.
     "You forgot to close the gate," squeaked the Flittermouse,
who had been chasing butterflies in the outer garden and now
swooped back to Fess's shoulder.
     "Never mind, one of the gardeners will do it," Fess said
breathlessly. "Flitter, go to the Blue smith's shop behind the stables,
quickly-and don't let the dogs see you, or the horses
either.
You'll find Bodkin there, seeing to Fred's hooves. Tell him I
said to take Fred to the woods west of the palace and tie him
there, saddled and bridled, as soon as the sun goes down. Do
you understand? And don't let anyone else hear what you say!"
     The Flittermouse swooped away on soundless wings, and
Fess went in search of Prince Rules, whom he found in his dress-
in-chamber, trying to decide whether to wear his blue cape
with the white crest, or his white cape with the blue crest.
     "The blue cape won't show the dirt so quickly," Fess told
him.
     "Oh, do you think we'll get dirty?" Gules said interestedly.
He had never been dirty in his life, and thought it sounded quite
dashing.
     "I'm almost sure of it," Fess sighed. "Prince Rules, I think
we'd better sneak away tonight, in secret, instead of waiting
until tomorrow. We're going to have all the dogs and horses
following us if we don' t.
"Very well," said Rules, more interested than ever. "But
how can we arrange-"
"I'll arrange it all. I'm going now to have the cook make
sandwiches for us. If you'll be ready by sundown, I'll do the
rest.
     The Prince agreed graciously to this, and shortly after sundown,
when the blue Munchkin evening settled down over Pax-
on-Argent, Fess, Rules and the Flittermouse stole quietly out
of the palace by a side door, slipped along the shadowed High
Road to the woods, and found Fred waiting impatiently for
them in a little clearing.
     "High time!" he whinnied impatiently. "I really cannot understand,
Your Highness, why we must sneak about like this,
when-"
     "Hush! We're leaving secretly!" the Prince whispered.
     "Secretly? But what about our Sendoff? What about the
Procession? This is a Quest, isn't it? Then what about-"
     "Hush!" the Prince repeated, stamping his foot. "Behave
or I won't let you go. Now, hold still, Fred."
     "Federigo," the Steed corrected him sulkily, but he stood
still while Fess strapped the lunchbasket to his back. A moment
later Rules swung into the saddle and the little party started off
through the woods.
     "Where are we heading, Fess dear?" squeaked the Flitter-
mouse cheerfully.
     "West," Fess said. "To the gate in the Crenelated Wall. It's
the easiest way out of Halidom."
     "And after we're out of Halidom, then what?"
     "Then we'll see," Fess said uneasily. He had no more idea
than the Flittermouse where to look for the Circlets, and it was
obvious the question had not yet entered the Prince's mind.
When it did, he would be puzzled and interested for a moment,
then he would graciously leave the matter up to Fess. Every-
thing was going to be up to Fess-he knew it very well. "I'll just
have to do the best I can," he thought as he trudged through the
dark forest in Fred's wake.
     It was easier going once they were through the woods, and
even easier when the moon came up. The countryside lay blue
and silver in the pale light, with the towers of a castle rising
here and there in the distance, and the mulberry orchards dark
on the hillsides. Halidom did not look shabby and down-at-the-
heel at night, it looked perfectly beautiful-and comfortingly
familiar. Fess wondered, with an odd little lump in his throat,
when he would see it again, and tried not to think about the unknown
lands beyond the Crenelated Wall.
     Since the others of the party were not much given to thinking, they were perfectly cheerful. Prince Rules rocked to and
fro in the saddle, half asleep. Fred plodded along drowsily but
willingly, snatching a bite of grass now and then. The Flitter-
mouse, who could see perfectly at night, left Fess's shoulder frequently
to chase moths or swoop among the silvery weeds at the
roadside, humming his latest little song. It was the one about
Prince Rules riding forth into the world to save Halidom, and
it went

"Donned his helm,
Left the realm."

     Or sometimes it changed to:

"Carried his mace
To another place."

     Fess praised both versions absently, but his mind was elsewhere.
In spite of Fred's tiredness and weakness, which made
him move much more slowly than usual, it was hard for a boy
on foot to keep up with a horse. Fess's feet and legs were beginning
to ache, and he could not help wishing that Prince Rules
had thought it proper for his page to be mounted. Nobody had
suggested such a thing-the Prince because it hadn't occurred
to him, and Fess because he hadn't quite liked to. He regretted
his delicacy now; still, he was a sturdy boy, and he plodded on,
uncomplaining.
     It was nearly midnight when they reached the Crenelated
Wall, passed through the great blue gateway, and entered the
Unknown Land beyond. Fess did not permit himself to look
back; but his first quick look ahead showed him that the road
they had been following dwindled immediately into a footpath,
which wound up a rocky, bramble-grown hillside and vanished
among the boulders. It would be far better, Fess thought, to find
out where it led tomorrow, in broad daylight. He caught up
with Fred and suggested tactfully that the Prince might like to
eat a sandwich and sleep a while before they went further.
     "Oh, yes, let's do," Rules said with a yawn. "But where
can we sleep, Fess? I see no castle anywhere."
     "You may not see one again until we're back in Halidom.,"
Fess said bluntly. It was time the Prince began to learn a few
home truths about going on a journey. "We'll probably have
to sleep on the ground-tonight and every other night. And
there won't be any pillows."
     "Oh," the Prince said, blinking. "Very well," he said graciously
a moment later.
     Fess smiled in the darkness, reflecting that however little
the Prince might understand what lay ahead of him, at least he
was a very good sport indeed. After a glance around the unfamiliar
landscape, Fess said, "Come on, then-let's try that little
grove of trees."
     They found a grassy place under the trees, and a tiny stream,
at which all four travelers drank gratefully. Prince Rules then
sat down against a tree trunk and waited, as befitted a Prince,
for dinner to appear. Fess sighed, but brought him a sandwich
and a mulberry tart from the basket. Then he unsaddled Fred,
who complained a little about the absence of oats and bran mash,
but reluctantly agreed to graze on the thick grass instead.
     "Flitter, can you find enough food for yourself?" Fess asked.
     "Oh, yes, Fess dear, I've been eating gnats and things all
along the way. But we've left my bed at home."
     "That's easily remedied," Fess said, taking off his cap and
placing it on the ground beside Fred's saddle. The Flittermouse
crept under it at once, and Fess sat down nearby to eat his own
sandwich, stretching his tired legs thankfully and hoping there
were no bears or lioncels in the grove. Long before Fred had
finished his dinner, the Prince had wrapped himself in his cloak
and gone to sleep; but for some time Fess lay wakeful, listening
for lioncels, but hearing only the Flittermouse's small, drowsy
songs coming out from under the cap, and the Steed's teeth tearing
at the grass. Finally even these sounds ceased, and he, too,
slept.
     The first thing he saw next morning was the Unicorn, standing
a shaft of sunlight and rubbing her mother-of-pearl horn
gently against a tree.
     "My bends and buckler!" exclaimed Fess, sitting up with a
jerk. "Where did you come from?"
     "Pax-on-Argent, of course," the Unicorn said gently. "Tell
me, have you noticed any trefoils growing hereabouts?"
     "I told you left the gate open!" squeaked the Flitter-
mouse, scrambling out from under Fess's cap and hurtling to his
shoulder in great excitement.
     "You did-and I should have paid more attention," Fess said
ruefully. "Now what's to be done? I suppose I'll have to take
her back!"
     "I won't go back," the Unicorn informed him. "Not even
for you, and I'm very fond of you. I'm not needed at all in Halidom
at the present, and I don't care for other people bringing
my breakfast, and I want to go traveling." She eyed Fess shyly
a moment, then added, "I thought you might like to ride me. I'd
be glad to make myself useful, at least in that way.
     "Oh, what a good idea!" said Prince Rules, who had wakened
and listened with interest to the conversation. "I'm sure
we should get on faster, don't you think so, Fess? And, now I
think of it, it's quite fitting that I should have the National
Emblem traveling with me-to bring good luck. Besides, we'll look
ever so much more elegant." Rules smiled at the Unicorn and
added, "Good morning Unicorn. You may accompany me.
     The Unicorn, who was very reserved and shy with everybody
but Fess, merely pawed delicately at the moss with a
golden hoof, but Fess shook his head doubtfully.
     "There may not be any trefoils growing in this land at all,"
he warned her. "And I'm pretty heavy for you to carry.
     "Oh, no. I may not be as large as a horse, but I'm quite as
strong as one. Stronger, in fact, because I'm not an ordinary
sort of animal. I'm unique. The fairy Lurline told me so. And I'll
gladly eat ordinary daisies or buttercups, if I can be with you."
     "Well, all right, then," Fess said, privately very glad he
would not have to walk all over Oz. Turning to the Steed, who
had been watching rather anxiously, he added politely, "Federigo,
have you ever met the Unicorn?"
     "I believe so, in a Procession once. I was only a palfrey
then," he added hastily to the Unicorn. "I doubt if you remember.
But I'm a Steed now, I'm His Highness's own personal
Steed, and I hope soon to become a Charger. I have a cousin
who's a Destrier."
     "Never mind, go get your breakfast," Fess said, adding in
an undertone, "You mustn't brag so, Federigo, it's not in good
taste.
     "Well, she outranks me," Fred muttered nervously. "At
least, I suppose she does, being an Emblem, and Unique, and all
that. How can one tell what rank she is, when she's not even a
horse.- It's irritating. Besides, she's very stuck-up. She looks
down her nose at me, and I'm just as good as anybody. I come
from a very aristocratic-"
     "I know, I know," Fess soothed him. "But you must be
polite anyway, and she's not really stuck-up, she's only shy.
Now go eat your grass so we can start."
     Half an hour later, smothering his doubts as to how the two
animals were going to get along, Fess saddled Fred for the Prince,
scrambled onto the Unicorn's snowy back, and they were on
their way, the Flittermouse fluttering ahead.
     Having no idea what else to do, Fess had decided to follow
the path over the hillside he had seen the night before. By daylight
the scrubby bushes and tumbled boulders did not look
menacing, but they made traveling difficult, and when the
travelers reached the crest of the hill they were all glad to see a
wooded valley spread out below. So far they had passed no
villages, no houses, not even a squirrel or a woodcutter. A few
brilliant blue birds flew southwards, far up in the cloudless sky,
but there seemed to be no other inhabitants in this lonely
country.
     "If only there were somebody we could ask questions of
Fess said, as they gained the valley and were once again in
woods. "We don't even know where we re heading. We can't
just wander."
     "Why not?" asked Prince Rules.
     "Well, for one thing, we're nearly out of sandwiches And
for another, we'll never find the Circlets unless we make some
sort of plan about how to look for them."
     "But how can we do that if we don't know where they are?"
     "I don't know," Fess admitted gloomily. "But if there were
any villages-or even any people-we could kind of ask around,
at least. After all, there's not going to be a sign beside the
path, saying 'This Way To Lost Circlets!'
     "There's a sign, though," the Flittermouse said suddenly.
"Right over there by that bush. See?"
     It was a square blue sign on a short stake, with large white
letters that read uncompromisingly, "KEEP OUT." Since they
were merely walking along a grassy path through scrubby and
untended woods, this seemed an odd instruction.
     "Keep out of what.?" Fred said indignantly. "I don't see
anything to keep out of."
     "Neither do I. Let's go on," Fess said.
     A few yards farther on, however, they saw another sign.
This one said "NO TRESPASSING." just beyond it was a
third that read, "POST NO BILLS."
     "This is very queer," Fess muttered. "We haven't passed a
fence all morning, yet we must be on somebody's land."
     "Maybe we'll come to the castle pretty soon," Prince Rules
said hopefully.
     "Then you can ask questions!" chirped the Flittermouse,
bouncing happily on Fess's shoulder and leaning far forward to
peer into his face.
     "I suppose so," Fess said, though privately he wondered
whether he'd get any answers if he did ask. So far, the signs
appeared anything but friendly. At that moment, Fred, who
was in the lead, emerged into a little clearing and whinnied,
     "Here's another sign!"
     "Two more," Prince Rules corrected him.
     The Unicorn pressed up beside them, and Fess read out,
"SILENCE!" and "QUIET, PLEASE."
     "Of all the nerve!" Fred exclaimed, loudly and huffily.
"Who do they think they're ordering around, anyhow? Your
Highness, I believe you should make yourself known to these
peasants, whoever they are, and-
     He broke off with a startled snort, and the others gasped.
Before their eyes, the letters of the second sign had changed
from "QUIET PLEASE," to "SHUT UP!" As the whole
party stared at it in disbelief, it changed again, to "SPEAK
SIGN LANGUAGE ONLY."
     "But how do we do that, Fess dear?." the Flittermouse whispered,
very softly, in Fess's ear.
     At the same moment. the Unicorn took a nervous step
backwards, then pointed with her horn toward the patch of sky
visible above the clearing. Against the cloudless blue, huge vapor
letters were forming in the air, as if an unseen, giant hand were
writing them. Slowly they spelled out, "PRIVATE PROPERTY.
FOLLOW DOTTED LINE."
     "What dotted line.?" the Prince whispered, glancing in bewilderment
at Fess.
     Fess shook his head, then peering beyond Fred, suddenly
pointed. On the other side of the clearing, the path became a
line of round white stones that led off through the bushes and
into a thicket of scrubby trees. The travelers glanced at each
other, then, somewhat apprehensively, crossed the clearing and
began to follow the dotted line.

Chapter 7

     BY EVENING of  his second day with the
Fox-Hunters, Robin wanted nothing so much as to escape. He had
learned a good deal about life in View-Halloo by now, and he
found it not only exhausting but shatteringly monotonous.
     Every day, apparently, was exactly like every other. The
Huntsmen were up and into the saddle at daybreak, shouting
heartily to each other almost before their eyes were open, and
they never quit shouting heartily - and exercising vigorously-
until they went to bed at night. They dismounted only for meals,
all three of which were Hunt Breakfasts, with an unvarying menu
of creamed kidneys, scrambled eggs, and a bitter hot drink called
Stirrup-Cup. As soon as the first of these meals was over, half
the hounds and Huntsmen sallied forth, amid loud blasts on the horn,
to streak madly over the fields and hedgerows after a fox, while
the other half stayed in View-Halloo enthusiastically training
horses or practicing jumps. At noon the First Hunt noisily re-
turned, and after another breakfast they plunged in their turn
into training and jumping-practice, while the Second Hunt rode out.
     The hounds lived in a long, pink building, which was called
The Kennels, but seemed to Robin more like a clubhouse. The
foxes had their own quarters, or Earths, as they jocularly called
them, on the other side of Yoick's red brick mansion. The foxes
were every bit as fond of fox-hunting as the Huntsmen, hounds
and horses, and carefully trained their cubs-or kits-in the profession,
teaching them old family tricks of evasion and escape.
After a day in the field they came back to View-Halloo and sat
around the Kennels discussing with the hounds the finer technical
points of the day's sport, in the most companionable way possible,
while the horses talked shop in the stables, and the Huntsmen in
the Hunt Club Rooms of the red brick mansion.
     As far as Robin could find out, Merry had not yet been ridden
in a hunt, or even allowed outside of View-Halloo. Her training
had been begun promptly, however. From the chance glimpses he
caught of her as she was hurried from stables to paddock and back
again, he could guess that she was learning far more than she
really wanted to know about jumping, chasing, turning short, obeying
commands, and half a dozen other things.
     He himself was kept just as busy learning to be a kennel-Boy.
His teacher, Spots, had turned out to be a large, elderly, and
very experienced black and white hound, who knew everything there
was to know, he assured Robin, about training boys and puppies.
     "Just keep your ears up, mind the cope, and don't throw your
tongue unless you're barked at, and you'll learn the work soon
enough," he told Robin casually, looking him over with a lazy
eye.
     This Robin translated, after some thought, into "pay attention,
do what you're told, and don't speak until you're spoken to,''
which sounded familiar enough.
     "Yes sir," Robin sighed. "What will the work be? Carrying
food for the dogs?"
     "For the Hounds. Yes, and drawing water. Your paws are
better adapted than ours for that kind of menial task. However,
you'll have assistants-babblers, skirters, rioters and so on, who
haven't made the pack. Your main work will be-"
     "Excuse me, Robin said. He was able to guess that "making
the pack" was something like "making the team,  but he was
baffled and faintly alarmed by the sound of the other terms.
did you say would be my assistants?"
     "Babblers, skirters, and rioters," repeated Spots. When Robin
continued to look puzzled, the old hound heaved a martyred sigh
and closed his eves for a moment. "I see we shall have to start
at the very beginning. Tell me what you know-if anything-about fox-
hunting."
     Well," Robin began, thinking hard. "A hunt is ... well, a
whole lot of men and horses go out in the country with a bunch of
dogs-"
     ''A field of huntsmen. and hunters ride out with a pack of
hounds," Spots corrected him.
     "Oh. well then, a field of huntsmen and hunters ride out with
a pack of hounds, and the hounds sniff around looking for a fox,
and pretty soon they smell his scent-"
     "The hounds feather as they draw", and pretty soon they make
a hit. Try to get things right!"
     ''Yes, sir. well, then they run along where the fox has been,
barking and making a big racket as long as they can still smell
him-"
     "The hounds are off, in full cry, throwing their tongues as
long as they own the scent," Spots yapped rapidly, closing his
eyes again.
     Robin sighed. "And then finally one of the men-huntsmen-
sees the fox and yells to the others-."
     "Gives the Halloo."
     ''Gives the Halloo,'' said Robin as fast as he could. ''And
everybody chases and chases and finally they run him into a corner
somewhere, or into a hole, and the dogs-I mean hounds-stop and bark
-I mean throw their tongues and finally the men-huntsmen-
come up and kill him, and that's the end."
     He finished with a sigh of relief, only to find that his teacher's
eyes had flown upon and were fixed upon him with an expression
of outrage.
     "Kill him?" Spots barked. "What in the name of Yoicks makes
you think any hound or huntsman in the whole County would so
much as dream of killing a fox?"
     Robin blinked. "Well," he faltered. "They do at home. I
mean, in places where they have fox-hunts. I'm sure they do."
     For a long moment Spots merely looked at him, levelly, coldly,
and in complete disgust. "I perceive," he said at last, "that you
are not only ignorant, but a barbarian."
     "I'm not!" Robin retorted hotly. "I never said I'd kill one!
Why, I wouldn't kill anything, except maybe a fly or a mosquito.
And what's more-"
     "Very well, very well, I won't rate you this time," Spots said,
flapping a paw at him wearily. In the County, he told Robin, no fox
was ever harmed in any way-they were merely tagged, or touched,
when they were caught.
     ''Oh, I see! Like touch-football!" Robin said.
     "Possibly. I am not acquainted with touch-football," Spots
said austerely. He gazed at Robin and shook his head. "You have a
great deal to learn before your first Examinations. Why, you're
not even ready for Lesson One yet! Come on into my office, we'd
better have vocabulary drill the rest of the day."
     Robin followed him, still smarting from what he considered an
unjust scolding  (''I suppose I'll have to call it rating!" he
thought) and trying to catch a glimpse of Merry as he went. He found it
utterly exasperating that, having landed dramatically in a strange
and magic country, and having just barely begun to own his very
first horse, he should have stumbled into a sort of boring
language class that was even worse than ordinary school.
"I'll find Merry tonight," he thought, "and we'll run away."
     But he was not even allowed out of Spot's quarters that night.
The evening Hunt Breakfast was brought to them on a tray, and
afterwards Spots sent him to bed on a pile of hay in the next
room, and locked the door behind him.
     The next morning, after more creamed kidneys and Stirrup
Cup, the old hound fixed his pupil with a stern amber eye, and
said, ''Lesson One: the foxes are our constant companions, our worthy
opponents, and our friends. Repeat that after me."
     Somewhat sulkily, Robin repeated it after him.
     "Lesson Two: the first and best quality in a hound is courage.
The second is a Superior Nose. 'A hound cannot go faster than his
nose.' Memorize that. Lesson Three the first concern of a kennel
boy is the care of the hound's feet. Be ready to recite all that
to me by tomorrow. Now huic-huic to me-that means come along.
You'd better meet some of the Pack."
     Glad to get out of the stuffy office, Robin followed him toward
the kennel yard. Several hounds were strolling aimlessly in the
same direction, pausing now and then to stretch in the sunshine
     "Off-duty just now," Spots explained. "Assigned to the
Second Hunt. That's young Freckles over there-one of my
brightest pupils.'' He gestured at one of the strollers with a
front paw. "Not a handsome fellow, of course-all his family tend to be
swine-chopped-but as for Superior Noses-"
     "Excuse me," Robin interrupted. "Did you say swine  chopped?"
     "Means his lower jaw sticks out beyond his upper jaw," Spots
explained impatiently. "Look and you'll see for yourself. Now,
I'm just the opposite-overshot." He exhibited his profile, displaying
a receding chin. "See the difference? Now, Firetail, there by
the gate, is handsome enough, but he's a skirter. Cuts corners and
runs wide of the Pack. Bad business." Spots shook his head gravely,
and growled a little under his breath. "Terrible disappointment to
his father. Well-let's go in. You'll be meeting some foxes, too, unless
they're all at the fence-wriggling contest. Remember Lesson
One, and see that you don't mention killing to any of them," he
added severely.
     Robin assured him indignantly that he would do no such tactless
thing, and followed his teacher into the kennel yard. He had
always liked dogs, and couldn't help looking forward to getting
acquainted with the hounds.
     After spending most of that day with them, however, he
decided that these hounds were the dullest dogs he had ever met.
They seemed to have no interest in life outside of fox-hunting.
When they were not actually hunting, they were talking about it.
The ones off-duty lolled about interminably outside the kennel
doors or in the shade of some tree, always in groups-which usually
included a visiting fox or two-and they were always talking shop.
     "It was after that second check we lost you," one hound was
saying to a fox as Robin and Spots paused nearby late that after-
noon. "All I could smell was hare, once we crossed that big
ditch."
     "You should have followed the hare, old boy," the fox said
with a yelp of laughter.
     "Followed the hare? My dear fellow, what are you talking
about?" the hound demanded indignantly. "I hope I know better
than to run riot, at my age! Why, a foiled field simply sickens me".
     "I know!" said the fox, laughing harder than ever.
     "I think you went to earth in that big drain," put in a second
hound. "Trouble was, we didn't close our cast, and missed your
drag."
     "No, no," another said impatiently. "We lost him by that
rasper just this side of the bullfinch. Then after we'd feathered, it
was a stale line."
     "What on earth do they mean?" Robin muttered crossly. In
spite of his vocabulary drill, they might as well have been speaking
Serbo-Croatian. But Spots was chuckling and nodding as if the
discussion couldn't have been more fascinating.
     "Smart fox, old Bushy," he remarked to Robin. "I'll bet he
paired up with that hare, and took it easy the rest of the morning.
He's experienced, he is. Like to meet him?"
     At that moment, the fox glanced around, and Robin recognized
him as the one he and Merry had encountered in the meadow the
day before.
     "No thank you," he told Spots stiffly. "I have met him, and he
laughed at my horse."
     "Oh, I say, no offense, my boy," said Bushy, trotting over to
them. "Just knew the Huntsmen would find her rather unusual,
y'know."
     "I wish they hadn't found her at all," Robin muttered.
"They've taken her away from me."
     "Oh, she's got to be trained," Bushy remarked. His slanty eyes
gleamed suddenly, and he pulled Robin to one side,
voice to a hoarse whisper. "Want to hear how I fooled the Pack
this morning?"
     "Well-" said Robin, who didn't. His lack of enthusiasm failed
to dampen Bushy's abundance of it. He nudged Robin a little
farther away from Spots and began whispering animatedly, shoving
his sharp nose so close that his whiskers tickled Robin's ear, and
casting excited, mischievous glances over his shoulder at the
hounds.
     "I used a trick my great-uncle Whitetail taught me. I cut north
for a hundred yards down that first lane, see, then ran my foil for
fifty or sixty, then turned sharp by the bullfinch, jumped the big
ditch and met a friend of mine-a hare! The two of us ran around
a little to foil the field, then just sat in a thicket and watched the
fun. Laugh? Thought I'd burst. You never saw such confused
hounds. Except one other time, about a year ago-that day I headed
due south, then jumped a rasper and-"
     This went on for some time, while Robin yawned, shifted from
one foot to the other, dodged the tickling whiskers, and wished
Spots would come and rescue him. The old hound finally finished
examining a pup's hurt paw, and ambled over to them just as Bushy
came to the end of his fourth story and was starting, with undiminished
enjoyment, on a fifth.
     "Tally-ho, Spots! Time to get on with the lessons, eh?" the
fox said good-naturedly. "Well, good luck, young man. Don't
worry about your little mare. How's she getting on with her
jumping, d'you know?"
     "No, I don't!" Robin said. "I haven't even seen her."
     "Never mind, I expect you will in a month or so, when she's
passed her exams," Bushy said. "I'd better be loping along, I
guess.
Leu in!"
     "Leu in!" responded Spots affably.
     The fox waved a nonchalant paw and sauntered away, leaving
Robin staring after him. "A month or so!" he gasped. "Why, they
can't keep Merry away from me a whole month! I won't let them!"
He turned furiously on Spots. "She's sensitive, and they don't
understand her-they'll hurt her feelings! Besides, she's my horse!
We don't want to stay here in this old County! We never even-
	"Cope, cope!" Spots growled. "A little less tongue-throwing,
if you please, or I'll have to bite you. Huic-huic to me now, it's
time to mix the evening food."
     Robin didn't care to be bitten, so he clamped his mouth shut
and followed Spots to the long pink kennel house and the discouraging
array of feeding bowls. But his mind was made up. Before
tomorrow, he and Merry were going to be far away from
View-Halloo.
     That night, as soon as he heard Spots begin snoring in the next
room, he crept out of his bed of hay, cautiously pried up a window,
and crawled out into the dark. He felt his way along a graveled
path he knew led to Yoick s mansion, then followed his nose
toward the stables beyond. He was just edging cautiously around
the corner of a well-house when he bumped straight into some-
thing that nickered with fright and bounced away.
     "Merry!" whispered Robin, who had recognized the nicker.
"Robin! Is that you?" came a tremulous voice from the dark-
ness, and the next instant Robin was being muzzled joyfully by a
tear-wet nose. "Oh, I've been trying to find you! I hate it here!
Please, let's go away!"
     "Shhhh! Somebody'll hear. I was looking for you, too. Don't
worry, we re going-and right this minute!"
     "Oh, quick, before those nosy Real Horses find out I'm not in
my stall. Climb on my back, Robin, I can see in the dark better
than you can.
     Robin was up in a moment, and Merry starred slowly across
the royal lawns, gradually gaining speed.
     "I don't need the calliope music now," she whispered over her
shoulder to Robin. "Although I'd like it, of course. And I can
nearly always canter in a straight line, and I can jump quite
well."
     "Can you jump that five-barred fence?" Robin asked her
anxiously.
     "I don't know, but I've been practicing hard. There's a place
near our training-ring where it isn't quite so tall. That's where
I'm going to try.
     "All right," Robin said, looking nervously behind him. The
moon had come out from behind a cloud bank, and he could see
much better now-but so, he reflected, could any pursuers. "Is it
much farther?" he whispered.
     "No, there it is ahead-see?"
     At that moment Robin saw movement near the white bars
glimmering ahead, and the flash of a white-tipped tail. "A fox!"
he groaned. "Practicing his fence-wriggling, I'll bet!"
     "At this time of night?" Merry gasped.
     "They always do. It's so the hounds won't see them, and learn
their secrets. Oh, maybe he won't notice us!"
     But the fox had noticed them already. It let out a yelp of surprise
and streaked for The Kennels, howling for Spots at the top of
its lungs. Spots's answering deep bark sounded almost immediately,
baying the message to the Whipper-In, and in another instant every
hound in View-Halloo was giving tongue. Lights flared in the
mansion, in the courtyard; against the glow Robin could see the
first Huntsmen running toward the stables and shouting for
their horses to be saddled.
     "Run, Merry!" he cried. "Don't look back, just run!"
     "Oh, Robin, are they after us?" she whinnied in fright, and
began to run in terrified circles.
     "No, no, go straight, Merry! You can't do this now! Control
yourself!" Robin shouted, dragging frantically at the reins.
Behind he could hear the sound of hoofs in the courtyard, mixed with the
jingle of bridles and the yells of Huntsmen. "Merry they'll be
after us any second. . ." Then Robin thought of the harmonica in
his pocket, and made a dive for it. An instant later he was blowing
teedle-eedle-ees and oompahs as loud as he could blow. Merry's
head came up, her ears pricked, and suddenly she was no longer
going around and around, but bounding straight across the sawdust
of the training-ring and the strip of soft grass beyond.
     "Now!" yelled Robin, and blew a long, loud chord. Merry
gave one last tremendous bound, sailed over the five-bar fence
without so much as nicking the paint with a rear hoof, and landing
running on the other side.
     "We're safe, we're safe!', Robin cried, flinging both arms
around her pole because he couldn't reach her neck without falling
off. "You can slow down now, Merry-we've left them all behind!"
     "Let's leave them farther behind!" Merry gasped. "Hang on,
Robin, I'm going to keep on running."
     Keep on she did, across meadows and over hedges and ditches,
until the moon was high in the sky and the landscape around them
had changed from the pleasant fields of the Fox-Hunters' County
to rugged hills and forests and abrupt, narrow valleys. Here the
little mare was forced to slow down and pick her way more care-
fully, though she still cast nervous glances over her shoulder and
would not consent to stop for the night until they found themselves
in a deep and winding gorge through which a swift little
river ran. Ahead, Robin could hear the muffled roar of a
waterfall.
     "We're perfectly safe now, Merry!" Robin told her. "And I'm
tired. Let's stop, and go on in the morning."
     "Can we go on?" Merry said dubiously as he slid down from
her back. "Isn't that a waterfall we hear?"
     "We'll worry about that tomorrow," Robin said with a yawn.
He knelt for a long, refreshing drink of the icy water of the river,
then curled up in a shallow cave in the rocks nearby, and was instantly asleep.

Chapter 8

	ROBIN awoke early next morning, much
refreshed to find Merry peering in the entrance of his little cave.
She nickered softly, and when he said "Good morning!" she gave a
little bounce of joy.
	"Oh goody, you're awake. I've been awfully bored, waiting
for you."
	"Haven't you even been to sleep?" Robin asked, stepping out
into the sunshine.
	"No, I don't know how. I guess I'm not made for sleeping."
	"Or for getting tired, either," Robin added, patting her ad-
miringly. "That was a wonderful run you made last night!"
	"Well, I don't know," Merry sighed. "I think I ran too far.
There doesn't seem to be any way out of this gorge, unless we
go right back toward Fox-Hunting country, and please, let's not
do that, Robin!"
	"Have you been exploring?" Robin asked, beginning to do
some exploring himself, in search of breakfast. He quickly dis-
covered some wild raspberries, and moved from bush to bush pick-
ing them into his handkerchief, with Merry tagging at his heejs.
	"No," she answered, "I was afraid I might get lost from you.
But a bird told me that noise is a waterfall up ahead, and we can't
climb a waterfall, can we?"
	"Maybe there's a way around," Robin told her. He had a hand-
kerchief full of berries by now, and sat down on the bank of the
little river to eat them. "You know, Merry," he added, "I've been
thinking about what that redbird told us about this country we re
in.
	"It's called Oz," Merry said helpfully.
	"Yes, and we're in the southern section of it, and there's a capi-
tal called the Emerald City, and a fairy princess is the ruler. A fairy
princess wouldn't be mean to us, or capture us, or anything, would
she? I think we ought to try to find this Emerald City and ask her
if she'll help us. She might know the way to Oregon."
	"She might," Merry said uncertainly.
	Robin felt a little uncertain himself. So far, nobody in Oz
seemed even to have heard of Oregon, any more than he had
ever heard of Oz.
	"Fairies probably know everything," he said stoutly. "Any-
way, we've got to go somewhere, and I'd like to see an emerald
city, wouldn't you?"
	"Oh, yes!" Merry agreed. "But Robin-what if it's too far to
walk from there to Oregon?"
	"Then we'll take a train. In a city, I could get a job to earn our
fare. I was a caddy once, at the Cherryburg Golf Club, and another
time I had a paper route. The only thing I won't be is a kennel-
boy!" he added with a grin. He finished his raspberries, except for
a handful which he put thoughtfully in his pocket for lunch, and
jumped up, eager to be off. Reassuring Merry had made him feel
much more confident himself. "Everything's going to be fine,
you'll see," he told her as they started along the gorge.
	But the farther they went, the narrower the gorge became, and
the steeper and higher its red, craggy walls grew, while the water-
fall boomed ever louder ahead. Within a few minutes they had
scarcely room to pick their way along the rocky river-bank, and
Robin wondered if they would soon be forced to wade. Then they
rounded a sharp bend and halted in astonishment and admiration
at the scene before them. The gorge had opened out abruptly into
a steep-sided basin, with the river, suddenly broadened into a little
lake, lying like a clear jewel at the bottom. Straight ahead, the
waterfall leaped in a broad and sparkling torrent over the edge of
the basin far above, to plunge with a roar and a cloud of spray into
the lake.
	"How beautiful!" Robin exclaimed. His voice was lost in the
thunder of the waterfall, and he ended by shouting his remark
directly into Merry's ear. She nodded, but seemed frightened as
she gazed with wide eyes this way and that.
	"Where's the way around?" she whinnied. "You said there'd
be a way round."
	"I might've been wrong," Robin admitted.
	He, too, began to examine his surroundings with an eye to
escaping from them, and walking farther into the basin, peered
rather anxiously across the river. At once he spotted a curious little
hut on the opposite shore. It looked as if it were built entirely of
twigs, woven together in some fashion, and smoke was spiraling
from its crooked chimney. Most encouraging of all, there was a
crude raft moored near the hut.
	"Somebody must live there," Robin shouted, pointing. "Make
as much noise as you can, Merry!"
	Merry whinnied shrilly, and Robin cupped his hands about his
mouth and yelled with all his might. It was useless. The waterfall's
thunder swallowed their voices. After a few moments of effort,
however, Robin stopped to catch his breath and noticed a small
sign tacked to a tree growing near the water's edge, only a few
steps away from him.
	"PULL SIGNAL CORD FOR FERRYMAN," it read.
	"Now, why didn't I see that in the first place!" Robin panted,
running forward in relief. A cord was dangling from the tree on
which the sign was tacked. Wondering what sort of noise it would
make, Robin pulled it. He heard nothing at all, but on closer ex-
animation he discovered that the cord was threaded through a com-
plicated system of pulleys, screw-eyes and guide-hooks right under
the river to a large drum-like stump on the opposite shore near the
hut. Every time he pulled the cord, a wooden mallet banged hard
upon the stump-and presently a very bent old man, with a long,
pointed pink beard, emerged from the hut and peered across the
river at them. Robin waved both hands and Merry her tail, and
they received an answering wave from the Ferryman, who hobbled
rapidly	into his hut, came out again wearing a battered, official-
looking scarlet cap, and hurried down to the raft.
	"He's coming!" Robin shouted joyfully. "It won't be long
now, Merry, and we'll be on our way.
	As a matter of fact, though the river was not very wide, the
old Ferryman took an unconscionable length of time to cross it.
He boarded his raft promptly enough, but only after an enormous
amount of energy expended and motions made did he succeed in
casting off. To the puzzled travelers, who stood watching for some
time and finally sat down on the red sands to wait, the ferry
appeared to be a mere raft of logs with two railings which ran along
a rope stretched across the river, but judging by the Ferryman's
furious activity its operation seemed to be extremely complicated.
Ropes of all sizes had to be untied every few minutes, and tied again
in different places; a great many wooden levers had to be adjusted
and readjusted; soundings had to be taken every ten seconds. What
with all these things to attend to, the Ferryman was a perfect whirl-
wind of motion all the way across the river-yet the ferry traveled
so slowly it was almost impossible to see it move. Robin and Merry
had ample time to inspect the strange craft minutely as it crept near,
and to read the words printed across the front of the Ferryman's
battered cap and handwritten, in red chalk, on both the railings:
"MUNICIPAL INTERSTATE RAPID TRANSIT WATERWAYS SYSTEM COMMISSION OF THE QUADLING
COUNTRY OF OZ. INC."
	"Well, the Ferryman's rapid, even if the ferry isn't," Robin
shouted to Merry.
	Eventually, in a final burst of activity from its pilot, the raft
scraped gently against the shore. Merry and Robin started down
the sloping bank to board it, but the Ferryman waved his arms
in alarm and motioned them back. They waited while he dashed
about energetically, mooring the ferry securely in several places,
the rigging a minute, red-striped awning over the little gang-
plank. Then, and only then, were they allowed to step onto the
raft.
	"Good morning, sir," Robin shouted politely. "We'd like to
cross the river."
	"Howzat agin?" cried the old man, cupping one ear with a
gnarled hand.
	"I say we'd like to cross the river," Robin shrieked, wishing he
could turn off the waterfall for a minute. "How much is the-"
	"Eh?" yelled the Ferryman, leaning closer. "Howzat agin?"
	"WHAT'S THE FARE?" Robin bellowed.
	"Lots of air? A-course there is. Kind of a silly thing to call me
clear across the river for, young feller."
	"Oh, dear," Robin sighed.
	"Well, you'd be deaf too, if you lived so close to that water-
fall," Merry said sympathetically. "Let me try."
	Stepping close to the old man, she began whinnying shrilly into
his left ear, while Robin bellowed into his right one. At first he
merely looked baffled and yelled "Howzat agin?" to everything
they said, but finally his face cleared, and he gave them a jovial,
toothless grin.
	"Oh, you want to go across the river! Well, why didn't you
say so? No charge, glad to oblige-" He stopped, then added
eagerly, "-unless you'd happen to have a mite of food about you
somewhere? Don't matter what. Berries, roots, any old thing."
	Robin remembered the raspberries he had saved, and hastily
presented them to old Howzatagin, who appeared overjoyed, and
ate them on the spot.
	"Now I needn't catch a fish for breakfast, you know," he con-
fided as he returned Robin's raspberry-stained handkerchief.
"Well, all aboard! All ashore that's going ashore! Up the gang-
plank! Stow the awning! Lash the railings! Cast off the moorings!
Coil the sheets! Man the rudder! Hoist the tops'l! Mind the bin-
nacle! Take the helm! Nor' by Southeast! Steady as you go!"
	Robin had opened his mouth to ask why Howzatagin didn't
like to catch fish, but presently he gave up and closed it again. Be-
tween the waterfall's din and the racket the old man was making
as he barked out orders to himself and dashed here and there obey-
mg them, things were far too noisy and confusing for conversation.
Robin and Merry concentrated on keeping out of the way, and
uttered not a word throughout the snail-like trip across the river
and the long rigamarole of landing on the other shore.
	At last they stepped off the ferry, and Robin, feeling he had
spent the better part of his life on the journey, muttered to Merry
that it might have been better to swim.
	"What's more, I'm hungry again," he added with a sigh.
	"Maybe you could catch a fish, even if the Ferryman doesn't
like to," suggested Merry.
	"Oh, don't do that, young feller!" begged Howzatagin, who
seemed to hear much better now that they were away from the
waterfall. "Poor little tykes, think how they must hate it!"
	"Who?" Robin asked in bewilderment.
	"The fish! How would you like to have a nasty old hook in
your mouth?" Howzatagin demanded. "I have to catch 'em some-
times, because there's not much else to eat hereabouts. But it always
makes me cry." He pulled out an enormous scarlet handkerchief
and wiped his eyes. "I think of them as my friends, I do. There's
some as I even know by their first names. Got a trout in the house
right now as I'm curing of a sprained fin. Name's Richard. Come
on in and meet 'im. I'll give you a cookie."
	Fascinated at the prospect of meeting a trout named Richard,
Robin and Merry followed the old Ferryman into his twiggy hut.
There they found not only the trout, who was swimming wanly
around a punch-bowl, but a dozen or so other little convalescents,
both birds and animals, perched on the rafters or curled up on the
old man's bed. They were recovering from a variety of ailments-
broken legs, dislocated tails, ear-aches, or, as in the case of one
rather pale-looking young beaver named Henry, merely upset
stomachs-and many were neatly bandaged.
	"You must be very fond of animals," Merry said shyly as the
Ferryman led Robin to a table and set out seed-cookies, wild cran-
berry juice, and a mug of steaming herb tea.
	"Well, they're company," the old man explained. "Only
trouble with the Red Gorge, it's kinda lonesome. Not many folks
ever pass this way. Besides the food bein' skeerce."
	"Why don't you move?" asked Robin.
	"Move?" Howzatagin looked scandalized. "Why, I couldn't
leave my post, young feller! I'm the Ferryman! Only one in the
Quadling Country! Sole employee of the Municipal Interstate
Rapid Transit Waterways System Commission of the Quadling
Country of Oz, Inc."
	"What does 'Inc.' mean?" Merry asked.
	"Inconsequential," sighed Howzatagin. "But I wouldn't move.
Oh, no, I couldn't do a thing like that! Where are you folks headin'
for?"
	"Well-the Emerald City, if we can find a way," Robin said.
Briefly he told the old man of their adventures of the past two days,
adding that he hoped someone in the capital could tell them how to
get home to Oregon. "Do you think that fairy ruler would help
Us?" he inquired.
	"Easiest thing in the world!" Howzatagin declared. "Why,
Princess Ozma'll just put on her Magic Belt and wish you home
again."
	"Wish us home?" Merry echoed.
	"Magic Belt?" Robin said at the same moment.
	"Oh, ho, you are strangers, aren't you?" the Ferryman
chuckled. "Never heard of the Magic Belt! I s'pose you never
heard of the Wizard, either, or the Cowardly Lion, or the Tin
Woodman, or Princess Dorothy, or Betsy Bobbin, or the Saw-
horse, or-"
	"No, never!" chorused Robin and Merry. Merry added un-
easily, "What's a Sawhorse?"
	For the next half hour they listened, fascinated, while How-
zatagin, who had lived in the Emerald City many years before
becoming the sole employee of the M.I.R.T.W.S.C.O.T.Q.
C.O.O.Inc., told them all about the beautiful capital of Oz and the
many celebrities who lived there. To Robin it sounded as if no-
body but celebrities lived there- and such astonishing ones they
were that if he himself had not been traveling with a living, talking
merry-go-round horse he would not have believed a word the old
man said. There was a Scarecrow, stuffed with straw, who was not
only alive but had the best brains in the land-a kind-hearted
Woodman made entirely of tin-a Tiger whose appetite continu-
ally demanded fat babies, but whose tender conscience had never
allowed him to eat a single one-a Lion who trembled piteously
with fright even while dashing into battle-a Wizard who could
perform any conceivable feat of magic and had once been Ruler
of Oz-a yellow hen named Billina who had been Dorothy's com-
panion in a shipwreck and later rescued Ozma and her whole
party from the Gnome King-a madcap rag girl named Scraps
who was made of an old patchwork quilt but brimmed with
more life and far more mischief than most ordinary folk-a Saw-
horse whose common wooden legs were shod with pure gold,
who had been the faithful steed of Princess Ozma when she was
a boy.
	"Princess Ozma was a boy once?" Robin burst out, delighted.
It made her seem much more approachable, somehow.
	"A boy named Tip," said Howzatagin, nodding wisely. "Be-
witched, you know."
	"What about those other girls-Princess Dorothy and Betsy
Bobbin? Were they boys too?"
	"Oh, no! Why, they came from Americky, same as you. Car-
ried here by earthquakes and shipwrecks and cyclones and I dunno
what all. Princess Ozma kept wishin' 'em back home with her
Magic Belt, but they kept comm' back, and finally they just
decided to stay."
	"Oh, Robin, couldn't we stay too?" Merry begged.
	"For always?" Robin said. "Merry, don't you want to go
back to Oregon at all?"
	"Well-if I could be a Real Horse, and stay with you I might,"
Merry said. "But in Oregon I'd just be fastened to a merry-go-
round, and I couldn't even talk!"
	"I'll bet the Wizard would change you to a real horse, " How-
zatagin told her.
	"Oh, would he?" Merry whinnied, bouncing with excitement.
"Oh, Robin, did you hear that? Oh, hurry, let's go ask him!"
Robin agreed-reluctantly-that it was time to go. He could
have listened to stories of the Emerald City folk forever. "But
it'll be even better to meet them myself," he reflected, so after
thanking the old Ferryman for his kindness, they left the hut.
	"Just foller that path through the woods there," Howzat-
agin told them. "And when you come out on t'other side, keep
agoin' till you come to a road made of yaller bricks. Then just
stay on that Yaller Brick Road. It'll take you right into the Em-
erald City! Goodby! Come back and visit me again someday!"
	"We will!" Robin promised, climbing onto Merry's back.
"Tell Richard we're glad we met him. Goodby!"

Chapter 9

	PRINCE Gules, Fred, Fess, the Unicorn and
Flitter, cautiously following the dotted-line path of white stones,
discovered that it led them right through the thicket, and out on
the other side. As they emerged, they found themselves at the top
of a little slope, and paused to look curiously at the tidy, rolling
land which spread out before them.
		It seemed to be one vast farm. Everywhere were orderly plots
of fruit trees and berry bushes, and rows of little plants. All were
laden and ready for harvest. There was not a person, an animal,
or a bird to be seen anywhere, and not one sound to be heard,
but at first this seemed to be the only queer thing about the place.
	Then Fess, hoping to pick some pears and apples to replenish
the lunchbasket, led the way down the slope and over to the
nearest tree. There he stopped in astonishment, and simply gaped.
	"Signs!" he exclaimed-and even his hushed voice sounded
too loud in the silence. "Look here, Your Highness1. This tree
is growing signs, instead of fruit!"
	"So is that one," whispered the Unicorn.
	"They all are!" said the Prince.
	It was true. Even the bushes and plants were loaded with
signs, which grew on stake-like stems amid leaves that on closer
inspection proved to be handbills and small posters. Some of the
signs were small and obviously still green, with their lettering
cramped and indistinct; some were ripe, and plain to read; still
others were withering, with their lettering half worn off and their
edges cracked and splitting.
	They spelled out every sort of message. As the travelers fol-
lowed the dotted line they could read KEEP OUT, DO NOT
DISTURB, NO SMOKING, SCHOOL ZONE, STANDING
ROOM ONLY, and a hundred others. One whole group of trees
bore nothing but STOP signs; another RAILROAD X-ING
signs; still another merchants' signs, such as FIRE SALE,
EVERYTHING MUST GO, SPECIAL CLEARANCE, and
$AVE! $AVE! $AVE! This last one seemed to fascinate the
FIittermouse, who stared at it wide-eyed at they passed, then kept
trying in a nervous whisper to pronounce it to himself.
"All the signs in the world must come from here!" Fess mur-
mured to the Unicorn as they passed a price-tag bush. "Isn't it
interesting?"
	"Well, it's a nice place to visit, I suppose," she conceded
remotely. "But I wouldn't care to live here."
	"I wouldn't have the country if you gave it to me in a silver
manger!" Fred grumbled, making very little attempt to keep his
voice down. "Nobody riding out to welcome us, everything or-
dering us around-look at that bush there! 'No Hunting.' 'No
Smoking.' 'No Trespassing'! Who'd want to trespass in this place
if they could bypass it? Furthermore-"
	"There's a helpful one," Prince Gules interrupted, pointing
to a sign growing by itself at a place 'where the dotted line branched
and wandered off in several directions through the trees. "THIS
WAY IN" the sign directed, and below the words was an arrow
pointing out one of the many paths.
"Nice of them to tell us, I'm sure!" Fred commented. "Any
decent country would send an escort. After all, a party of our
consequence-
He broke off, shying slightly, as the sign suddenly changed
to "SHHHHHHHH!" Then he tossed his head disdainfully and
started along the path indicated- though without finishing his
sentence, Fess noticed. He also rolled a wary eye at the sign as
he went by, but it changed blandly to "No Smoking" and made
no further comment.
	There were a good many of these "talking" signs growing
beside the path at intervals. "Like sentries," Fess reflected Uncom-
fortably. "Or even spies." Certainly something was keeping a
sharp watch on the travelers. A KEEP OFF THE GRASS sign
changed to "PLEASE!" when Fred inadvertently placed one
hoof beyond the dotted line. A moment later, as the Unicorn
reached eagerly toward a clump of daisies, the sky-writing itself
broke off the lazy squiggles it was making, and scrawled angrily,
"DO NOT PICK THE FLOWERS!" The Unicorn had al-
ready spat the daisies out in distaste; Fess, retrieving one from the
corner of her mouth, discovered that they were made of card-
board, and each petal was neatly lettered, "He Loves Me" or
"He Loves Me Not."
	"Everything Loves Us Not in this place," Flitter whispered
forlornly as he read the petals over Fess's shoulder. The little
creature seemed depressed by this silent country, and was huddled
inside Fess's collar with only his head sticking out.
	"Never mind," Fess murmured, stroking the drooping, blue-
gray fur with one finger. "We'll find some people soon."
	It seemed to him the dotted-line path was leading them toward
the source of the sky-writing-and perhaps the ruler of the coun-
try. There must be someone in charge of this strange place, he
reasoned, who could tell them how to get out of it. Prince Gules,
who had been riding along in silence, looking around with the
mildly entertained expression of a sight-seeing tourist, was appar-
ently of the same opinion, for he turned to smile at Fess, and whis-
pered, "Bound to come to the castle soon.
	However. it was not a castle they came upon presently, when
the dotted line made a sharp turn between two groves of trees.
It was merely a graveled clearing, with a small tool-shed in the
center. Nailed to the door of the shed was a sign reading, "Bill
Bored, Prop." Below the sign, a sleepy-faced gardener in a worn
straw hat was sitting in an old chair, smoking a pipe. It was the
smoke from this pipe that floated up into the air to form the
sky-writing-which at the moment was spelling out, in trailing,
bored-looking letters, "Good Morning-I Guess. Welcome To
Sign-Here-I Suppose."
	The Unicorn gave an affronted gasp, while Fred-perhaps
fortunately-was rendered quite speechless by this unflattering
greeting. Prince Gules, too, raised a critical eyebrow, but his man-
ners were as excellent as the gardener's were bad.
	"Thank you," he replied graciously.
		At once the sign on the door changed to: QUIET! SPEAK
SIGN LANGUAGE ONLY!
		The Prince favored it with a chilly look, remarking, "I'm
afraid I don't know how."
		Under his regal stare the sign faded a bit, then grudgingly-
and with a slight air of embarrassment, Fess thought-reverted
to its former announcement.
		"The signs in your country repeatedly say 'No smoking',"
Prince Gules reminded the gardener severely.
		For answer, the gardener put the pipe in his mouth and puffed
out, in sky-writing, "I'm Different. I'm The Boss. Who Are You?
And Who Are Those Creatures With You? Signatures, Please."
	Fred stamped indignantly at "creatures'; and the Unicorn ele-
vated her snow-white nose and looked down it at the gardener,
but the Prince merely became more courtly.
	"I am Gules, Prince of Halidom," he said. "Traveling with
me is the Unicorn, Emblem of Halidom and Unique Animal of the
World. My attendants are my Steed, Fr . . . Federigo; my page,
Fess of Troth; and his pet the Flittermouse."
	Fred was much soothed by the quiet grandeur of this little
speech-and especially by the Prince's having remembered to
call him "Federigo"-but the gardener seemed unimpressed.
	"Well, I'm Bill Bored, Proprietor Of Sign-Here," scrawled
the sky-writing, carelessly. "And As Far As I'm Concerned,
You're All Trespassers, And Against The Law. What's Your
Business Here?"
	"We have no business here," Prince Gules began, only to be
interrupted by the sign on the door, which waspishly changed to
"Right!" As this piece of impertinence drew down upon it an-
other of the Prince's quelling stares, however, it seemed to lose its
nerve, changed uneasily to "Write", and finally faded out sulkily
altogether.
	Meanwhile, the Prince was explaining to Bill Bored that while
they had entered Sign-Here by accident and wished only to leave
it, they would be glad to know if he had seen anything of a Golden
Circlet.
	"What's A Cold Circle?" scrawled the sky-writing, ending
in an untidy puff of smoke as Bill Bored yawned.
	"I said Golden Circlet. The Second Treasure of Halidom!"
the Prince said in ringing tones.
	Fess, who had so far admired the Prince's conduct of the inter-
view-especially his squelching of the impertinent sign-now
decided that a little less grandeur and a little more information
was in order, and quickly told Bill Bored about the robbery, and
the importance of finding the Circlet as soon as possible.
	"But so far, we don't even know where to look," he finished.
"Well, It's No Good Asking Me," Bill Bored sky-wrote indif-
ferently. "I Haven't Seen It." After a pause in which he yawned
again, he added three smoky words. "Ask The Oracle."
	The travelers turned to him eagerly.
	"Where is the Oracle, Sir?" asked Fess.
	"In The Coracle," was the laconic answer.
	"But where is the Coracle?" Fess persisted, while Fred danced
impatiently, the Unicorn sighed with exasperation, and even Flit-
ter thrust his head out of Fess's collar to scowl.
	However, the smoky words answered only, "In The Mid-
dle Of The Link."
	"And where is the Link?" cried the Prince. "Indeed, 'what
is it?"
	But by now Bill had become so bored that he was almost asleep.
He waved irritably toward a path leading out of the clearing, then
turned his back and sat with his knees stolidly crossed, puffing on
his pipe. Not another word could they get from him; the sky-
writing resolved itself into mere lazy puffs and squiggles.
"Oh, who needs him?" Fred said in disgust. "Come on, we'll
find this Link ourselves, whatever it is! We'll probably know it
when we see it.
	He set out at a spirited trot along the path Bill Bored had indi-
cated; the others followed willingly. However, they were soon
forced to slow down. Almost as soon as they were out of the clear-
ing the path began to climb, the air to grow chilly, and the land-
scape to change. Within a few moments the neat plots of sign-trees
had merged into untended groves and thickets, while the white
stones of the dotted line gave way to jumbled rocks. Fred and the
Unicorn slid and stumbled on the steep, uneven footing, while
their riders, hunched against the cold wind, peered anxiously this
way and that through the forest-though neither of them, Fess re-
flected, had the slightest notion what a Link might look like. Now,
when signs might have helped, there were none visible except
occasional weedy-looking ones that read "Road Closed" or "No
Mountain-Climbing Allowed."
	"Then what are we supposed to do, fly?" Fred panted, glaring
at this last one. "If that isn't just like this country!"
	At the same moment, the Unicorn remarked, "It's snowing."
	"And I'm getting awfully hungry," squeaked the Flittermouse
mournfully. "Can't we go somewhere else now, Fess dear? I don't
like this place at all, and my nose is cold, and-"
	Suddenly the Prince broke in. "What is that ahead? Oh,
merely a lake. But what a queer one! By my halbred, it's almost
black."
	It certainly was a queer one, they saw when they emerged at
last from the trees and stood looking at it through the falling snow-
flakes. It lay in a forest-ringed hollow which was apparently the
very top of the mountain, and it was perfectly circular, with water
of so dark a blue that it had actually stained the white sand around
the edge.
	"Looks more like ink than water, Prince Gules remarked as
he and Fess dismounted to examine it.
	The Unicorn, who had stretched her white nose down to sniff,
drew back hastily, announcing, "I believe it is ink."
	"A lake of ink?" Fess began incredulously, then exclaimed,
"Why, of course-a link. We've found the Link, Your Highness!"
	"And there's the Coracle!" cried the Flittermouse, bouncing
up and down.
	Sure enough, in the exact middle of the Link a small, circular
boat floated peacefully. It appeared quite empty, except for a load
of snowflakes slowly gathering around its rim.
	"If that's the Coracle, where's the Oracle?" Fred demanded.
	"There's something," said the Unicorn, pointing her horn at
an object standing on the sands a little distance away. As they
approached they saw it was a table, on which was chained a large
open register-book. Beside the book stood a pen in a silver stand,
and-inevitably-a little sign.
	"Sign Here For Oracle," it directed.
	Without hesitation, Prince Gules seized the pen, dipped it in
the Link, and boldly scrawled "Gules, Prince of Halidom" across
the open page of the register.
	No sooner had he dotted the last "i" than a bell chimed some-
where, and out in the middle of the Link the Coracle gave a little
lurch and started toward them of its own accord. Fred shied, and
Flitter scurried back inside Fess's collar. where he whispered
shakily, "Fess dear, what kind of person is an Oracle?" The others
merely watched in astonishment, stamping their cold feet and blow-
ing on their hands, as the Coracle crossed the Link and halted,
bobbing gently, in the shallow ink near the shore. They could see
now that there was a velvet cushion in the boat's rounded bottom;
on the cushion was a shimmering, transparent sphere mounted in a
silver base.
	"A crystal ball! So that's the Oracle!" Fess exclaimed. "I
wonder how we work it?"
	The Oracle itself answered this question; as the travelers clus-
tered around it, a tiny sign popped up from a slot in its base.
	"Deposit Three Gold Pieces," Prince Gules read aloud. He
turned and held out a casual hand to Fess. "Do you have three gold
pieces, please?"
	"I don't think so," Fess said nervously, beginning to search
his pockets.
	"You forgot to bring gold pieces for our journey?" the Prince
exclaimed in shocked and disapproving tones.
	Reminding himself that the Prince couldn't help being a bit
stupid at times, Fess patiently explained that all he had brought was
a lunch basket, that a page seldom, if ever, even saw any gold pieces,
and that in any case Halidom's treasury was usually empty.
	"True," Gules admitted. "Well, perhaps I have some. I think I
did have, about a month ago."
	He, too, began going through his pockets, and after much
searching produced two small and rather battered coins. After a
few more anxious moments, while Fred stamped and complained
that he was freezing, Fess located a third-an old one from Troth-
which had slipped through a hole into the lining of his cloak. Much
relieved, he handed it to the Prince, who dropped all three gold
pieces into the slot.
	Immediately another sign popped up. "Ask Three Questions.
Shake Well After Each," it instructed.
	"Where is the Golden Circlet?" Gules asked it promptly.
	Fess, wishing the Prince would be less impulsive, hurriedly
added, "The one stolen night before last from Halidom."
	They all crowded forward, expecting another sign, but instead
they heard the mysterious little bell chime again. Nothing else
happened.
	"You forgot to shake it," Fred mumbled.
	The Prince reached into the Coracle, took the crystal ball be-
tween his hands and shook it hard. Instantly it became cloudy and
opaque, as if gray fog were trapped inside; then the fog changed
to violently swirling white particles. This gave the whole thing
such a familiar appearance that Fess exclaimed in surprise. It
looked precisely like a little glass paperweight he had at home,
which produced just such a miniature snowstorm when he shook
it. So striking was the resemblance that he found himself watching
dubiously as the ball cleared, half-convinced it would reveal
nothing more than a little snowman.
	What it did reveal was even more disappointing. There, shim-
mering amid the last settling snowflakes in the crystal ball was
merely the image of another crystal ball.
	For an instant they all stared at it blankly.
	"Maybe it means the Circlet is around here somewhere," Fess
ventured, peering into the empty boat.
	"Nonsense!" the Prince said in annoyance. Before Fess could
stop him, he gave the ball an angry shake, and pointing to the
image, demanded, "What is that supposed to represent?"
	At once the little bell chimed, and the miniature snowstorm
raged, then cleared to show exactly the same image. This time it
was larger and more distinct; it even quivered a little, as if the
Oracle were trying hard.
	"Oh, wait, please, Your Highness!" Fess cried, seeing that
Prince Gules had his mouth open to ask another irritated question.
"Be careful! That's two of our questions gone, and we haven't
any more gold pieces! Do think before you ask it anything else!"
	"Oh, you ask it something! I'm tired of its silly ways," said
Gules, handing the Oracle to Fess.
	Fess thought anxiously a moment, then asked, "How can we
find the three Golden Circlets of Halidom?"
	He shook the ball. As the swirling snow cleared for the third
time, they could see that the former image was gone, and smoky
words were beginning to take shape instead. Everyone pressed
closer to Fess, the Flittermouse leaning perilously far out of his
collar and Fred breathing hoarsely into his ear.
	"It's a rhyme!" Fess said, and read it out.
"Circlet One, in strange disguise,
Will lie unseen before your eyes.
Flight and chance will set it free;
Despoil the gift to royalty."
	As the travelers stared uncomprehendingly, the words shim-
mered and began to fade.
	"Oh, hooray," snorted Fred with a withering glance at the
Oracle. "Why, that solves everything, doesn't it? Now if we
can just locate those fellows Flight and Chance . .
	"Why must it be so mysterious?" the Prince said in disgust.
	"I seem to remember that Oracles are famous for that," Fess
sighed. "It's disappointing, but-"
	"Wait! There's more coming!" the Unicorn interrupted.
Sure enough, new words were forming as the first ones van-
ished. This time they read:

"Circlet Two, of purest gold,
Was carried off by a villain bold.
Problems will your path encumber;
Trust in the humblest of your number."

"My rhymes make more sense than that, don't they, Fess
dear?" the Flittermouse said jealously. "Even if they're not quite
as-"
"Here's more, here's more!" Fess exclaimed, as a third verse
formed.

"Circlet Three, a tiny thing,
Is in the hands of a future king.
Go by night, return by day,
The Circlet find in a roundabout way."

	The words remained a moment within the Oracle, then slowly
faded, and though they waited hopefully, no more appeared.
	"End of instructions," Fred said flatly. "Clear as mud. Easy
as sneezing. Naturally, we won't have the slightest trouble finding
a future king. Anybody who is anybody knows dozens, I'm sure.
He stamped a hoof so hard it made a six-inch hole in the snowy
sand. "I never heard of such a waste of gold pieces!"
	"Yes, put the useless thing back in its boat, and let's be off be-
fore we freeze solid!" the Prince said with scorn.
	"It's rude and crude," agreed Flitter. "And I'm cold as gold,"
he added pitifully.
	The Prince mounted without further ado as Fess replaced the
Oracle on its stand. Before the Coracle had borne its strange cargo
back to the middle of the Link, Fred was half way around the
edge of the shore. But Fess stayed behind long enough to scribble
the verses on a scrap of paper torn from the register book.
	"If I don't we're sure to forget what they said, and we might
understand them later, if we keep trying," he explained to the Uni-
corn as he climbed hastily onto her back.
	"I think that's very wise," she told him gently. "You know, I
believe I already understand one line. 'The humblest of your num-
ber' must mean the Flittermouse, mustn't it? Because it wouldn't
be His Highness or me or you, though it might be that Steed."
	"Depends on what it means by 'humblest'," Fess said with
amusement. "Federigo certainly doesn't act humble."
	"That's precisely why I doubt if his blood-lines are as aristo-
cratic as he pretends. Persons of Real Quality don't boast so much."
	"But how could it mean me?" the Flittermouse said in a rather
panic-stricken voice. "I couldn't find a Circlet all by myself!"
	"It only says for us to trust you," the Unicorn remarked. "And
that," she added graciously, "I'm quite prepared to do."
		Flitter was so flattered at this kind speech that he crawled out
Fess's collar and sat proudly on the Unicorn's head, muttering
	lists of words that rhyme with "unicorn" so that he might
compose a song in her honor.
	He had just given up in despair on "unicorn" and begun on
"emblem" when they reached the opposite side of the Link, where
Fred had stopped in front of the oddest sign they had yet seen. It
	merely "Exit", but the letters were painted on red glass, with
dim light behind the glass and a doorway framed by red velvet
urtains below. It all looked exceedingly strange and out of place
this snowy landscape.
	"Where do you suppose the door leads to?" said Prince Gules,
who was trying unsuccessfully to see through the high, thick
shrubbery on either side.
	"Out, that's where," Fred told him. "Come on, any place is
better than here!"

Recklessly, he shouldered the door open and went through,
the Unicorn at his heels. Next instant both were trying in vain
to scramble back through the closed door, as all the travelers gazed
downward in horror. They had emerged onto a narrow, shaky
platform of iron bars, below which they could see nothing but
empty space, with a series of equally frail-looking landings de-
sceending dizzily to the ground far below.
	"It's a fire-escape!" Fess gasped.
	"And we haven't even had the fire," Fred groaned. Teeth
chattering, he made another plunging assault on the stubbornly
closed door, nearly knocking the Unicorn off the platform in
the attempt and causing the Flittermouse to skid off her head.
		"You're crowding us! You're crowding us!" the little creature
squeaked, wildly fluttering his wings.
"look out!" cried Prince Gules.
	There was a loud clang, and instead of looking anywhere, all
five travelers shut their eyes tight, for the platform had suddenly
tilted, turned itself into a perilous sort of ramp down which they
tobogganed helter-skelter, and shaken them furiously onto the
next platform below, which immediately clanged and tilted too.
For the next few minutes they did nothing but scramble, slide, and
half-fall downward, as the fire-escape shuttled them roughly from
one level to the next. At last it dumped them off unceremoniously
at the bottom, folded itself up again with a series of malevolent
clangs, and disappeared entirely.
	Breathless, dizzy, and shaking, they were just beginning to pick
themselves up when Fess discovered the Flittermouse was missing.
Realizing the little creature must have fluttered away somewhere
in the uproar, he scrambled to his feet and was looking frantically
around when Fred gave a loud, terrified neigh and yelled,
	"Help! A lioncel.' A lioncel! Help! Help!"
	At the same moment, there was a shrill scream, followed by a
perfectly tremendous roar, and an unfamiliar voice shrieked,
	"Help! Help! A bat! Go 'way! Go 'way!"

Chapter 10

	"You know what, Ozma?" said Princess
Dorothy, stopping short to stare at a lily bush in the palace gardens.
"We ought to have an Easter party!"
	"Well! Did you see that written on a lily-petal?" the Wizard
asked her.
	Dorothy returned the broad smile lighting the face of her old
friend, and said, "Not exactly, but the lilies made me think of
Easter, and that made me remember that Easter's only a week
away, and that reminded me that we haven't made any plans, and
THAT made me think-"
	"-that we ought to make some," the Wizard finished.
	"It's a good idea!" Ozma declared. "We haven't had a party in
ages. Who shall we invite?"
	"Children, of course," answered a brisk voice, and Dorothy's
yellow hen, Billina, fluttered out from underneath a rosebush.
	"Billina! Have you been hiding your nest again?" exclaimed
Dorothy with a suspicious glance beneath the bush.
	"Never you mind! Ozma lets me, don't you, Ozma?" de-
manded the hen, and ruffled her feathers with satisfaction at
Ozma's amused nod. "Anyway, hiding eggs is the usual procedure
at an Easter party, isn't it? I'm just getting in practice," she added
with a shrill cackle of laughter.
	"Finding 'em is what you do at the party," Dorothy said.
"Though somebody has to hide them beforehand. I b'lieve I'll just
appoint you Chief Egg-Hider, Billina-since you've had so much
experience!"
	"Well, I must say!" began the Yellow Hen indignantly. But
at the Wizard's burst of laughter and Ozma's mischievous smile,
she gave in and chuckled too. "Oh, all right. I'll hide 'em. Will the
party be outdoors?"
	"Of course. We have a perfect place for it," Ozma said, glanc-
ing around the rolling lawns and gardens of the palace grounds.
"Let's have a nice big party, what do you say? I don't see why we
shouldn't ask every single child in the Emerald City. Now let me
think. .. They'll all need baskets-"

	"That sounds like my department," the Wizard observed.
"Shall I make small baskets grow on all the bushes for half an hour
or so, at the beginning of the party? Then each child could pick
one. Or, if you would prefer something a little more striking-"
	"Have the baskets fall out of the trees onto their heads. That
would be more striking," chuckled a deep voice behind them, and
the Cowardly Lion ambled out of a little summerhouse, where he
had been taking an after-lunch nap.
	Billina gave another of her shrill cackles of laughter, and the
others joined in. At the sounds of merriment, Scraps the Patch-
work Girl came careening perilously around a bend in the path
riding the palace cook's bicycle, collided head-over-heels with a
big snowball bush, and landed at Ozma's feet, demanding to know
what was up.
	"A patty's up," Dorothy giggled. "But you seem to be down."

"It's up, I'm down. What's more-alack!
I've got a snowball down my back!"

said Scraps, twisting her rag arm into an impossible position to
pat the wet spot where the snowball had melted. "A party, you
say? When? Where? Who? Why? Whee!" Turning an enthu-
siastic somersault, she announced herself ready to help. So Ozma
and Dorothy sat down on a marble bench, Billina perched on
the edge of a nearby fountain, and all four became engrossed
in plans for the party, while the Lion lay purring sleepily and
the Wizard leaned against a lantern tree and listened, smiling.
	"Now. That's everything, I think," Ozma said at last, and
began counting off items on her fingers. "Refreshments, invitations,
favors, games, prizes, baskets."
	"Excuse me, my dear," the Wizard chuckled. "I believe you
forgotten a pretty important item."
	"What's that, old boy?" the Cowardly Lion rumbled, lazily'
turning his massive head.
	"The eggs," said the Wizard.
	"Oh, my goodness!" cried Ozma. "A fine Egg Hunt it would
have been without any eggs!"
	Scraps, who could never stay still for long, flung herself reck-
lessly out of a tree she had been climbing, caught hold of a branch
at the last moment, and dangled there by one hand, chanting:

"A legless table without the legs
Is just what you'd egg-spect,
But an Easter Egg Hunt without the eggs
Is not egg-zactly c'rect!"

	With a whoop of laughter she released her hold, falling with a
soft, raggy plump on the head of the Cowardly Lion, who sighed,
but good-naturedly let it go.
	"Why, there'll have to be hundreds of eggs!" Dorothy said in
some awe. "How could we forget them? And where are we going
to get hold of so many before next Sunday?"
	"Well, don't look at me!" the Yellow Hen retorted.
	The Cowardly Lion's eyes immediately slid in her direction.
"You're the only one around here who lays eggs."
	"Very true, but I cannot possibly lay hundreds of eggs in a
week-much less boil them and dye them before the party!"
	"Oh, Billina, he's only teasing you," Ozma said with a laugh.
"Nobody expects you to furnish all those eggs!"
	"Anyway," Dorothy said, "I don't think they should be just
common eggs.
	"Well! I'm sure I don't know what you mean by 'common'!"
Billina began huffily, but Dorothy interrupted her.
	"You do too, so don't pretend to be offended! I mean they
should be real Easter Eggs. Don't you think so, Ozma?"
	"I do," said the little fairy firmly.
	"Then," the Cowardly Lion said with a yawn, "why not order
them from the Easter Bunny?"
	He had made the suggestion in fun, but to his surprise it turned
out to be perfectly practical. Ozma gave a little jump, clapped her
hands, and said, "Why, yes! That's exactly what we'll do!"
	"You mean we've got an Easter Bunny right here in Oz?" said
the Lion, sitting up and blinking his yellow eyes.
	"The Easter Bunny!" Ozma corrected him. "Where else
would he live? He's one of my most interesting subjects!" Since
this was news to everybody, she went on to explain that the Easter
Bunny ruled over a tidy and busy kingdom of bunnies somewhere
in the Munchkin country-or rather, beneath it, since his domain
was mostly underground. "So I understand," she added. "I've
never seen it-though I've often thought I'd like to."
	"So would I!" Dorothy exclaimed. "I'll tell you what, Ozma,
if you don't mind, I will go see it, and order our eggs while I'm
there. I don't have a thing to do this afternoon-I can start right
now.
	"Hold on-hold on!" the Cowardly Lion growled. "Where is
this place? How far is it? Don't be so sudden! I don't care for the
idea of your dashing all over the countryside by yourself!"
	"Then come with me!" Dorothy laughed, and ran over to
throw her arms around his great, maned neck. "Can we look in
your Magic Picture, Ozma, and see which road to take?"
	"I've a better idea," said the little fairy. "Scraps dear, would
you mind fetching my Magic Belt from my bedroom?"
	"Magic Belt!" gulped the Lion.
	As the irrepressible Scraps cartwheeled wildly off across the
lawn, yelling "Magic Belt! Bagic Melt! Agic-may Elt-bay!"
Dorothy exclaimed, "Oh, that's a fine idea, Ozma! The Magic
Belt will get us there in a jiffy."
"I don't like jiffies! Couldn't we just walk?" the Lion begged.
"Better not," Ozma said. "Several hundred eggs is a lot of eggs
-we'll be wise to order them right away. On your way home you
can take your time, though-it'll be a nice little vacation for you.
Just be sure to get back by Easter! Now-what colors do you think
our eggs should be?"
	This brought forth suggestions from everyone but the Lion,
who was too busy worrying about his coming journey by Magic
Belt to pay much attention to the conversation. He had had con-
siderable experience-most of it in spite of himself-with such odd
modes of travel as wishing pills, Flyabout Bus, and whirling moun-
tains, and had a low opinion of them all. So while the others
thrashed out the last details of the Easter Egg order, he sat yawning
with nervousness, growling fiercely under his breath, and trying
without any success at all to control his cowardice. By the time
Scraps burst out of a nearby tily bush, yelling "Boo!" and waving
the Magic Belt, he was so upset he roared.
	"What's the matter, can't you take a joke?" demanded Scraps
as she handed the belt to Ozma and danced over to tweak his ear.
	"This is no joking matter," the Lion said miserably.
	"Really, it doesn't hurt a hit," Dorothy assured him. She kissed
Ozma goodbye, then climbed quickly onto his back, took a firm
hold on his mane, and announced that they were ready.
	"Speak for yourself," muttered the Lion, but he braced himself
and shut his eyes tight.
	Ozma buckled on the Magic Belt, clasped both hands to it-and
the next instant, Dorothy and the Lion were no longer in the
garden.
	* * * *

	"OUCH!" roared the Cowardly Lion.
	He opened his eyes, blinked through a rapidly clearing haze of
opalescent smoke, and found himself sprawled in the middle of a
bramble patch, his chin squashed flat against a mat of briars and his
gaze fixed on a large rabbit-hole directly in front of him. His paws
hurt, his elbows hurt, thorns were sticking into his nose, and some-
thing wriggly was weighing down his head.
	"Dorothy? Where are you?" he quavered.
	"Here I am," said the wriggly thing. "I'm sorry-I got sort of
jounced around, I guess, and I'm trying to get off you, but there's
so many stickers in this place! There, thank goodness. Is that
better?"
	Relieved of the weight, the Cowardly Lion struggled to a
sitting position, sighed, and tried to lick a large thorn out of his
left front paw. "Doesn't hurt a bit, she says," he muttered under
his breath.
	"Well, the wishing part didn't hurt," Dorothy pointed out as
she scrambled around him-with a good deal of difficulty-and
carefully removed the thorn for him. "I'll admit the landing is
sometimes kind of inconvenient, but if this is the entrance to the
Easter Bunny's kingdom, you can't blame the Magic Belt for
putting us here. I suppose that rabbit-hole is the entrance?"
	"I suppose so"' said the Lion, looking at it without enthu-
siasm. "At least it isn't brambly. Come on, you'd better follow
me-provided I can squeeze through."
	Once he had wriggled past the tube-like entrance-removing
a few bits of hide from his anatomy in the process-there was a
bit more room; however, they were now in total darkness. Cau-
tiously they groped their way forward, along what seemed to be
a rough winding passage sloping steeply downward.
	"I hope there aren't any old abandoned wells around here,"
the Lion muttered, adding "Oof!" as he bumped into the wall at
one of the many curves. "Just what we need right now-to fall
into an old abandoned well and never be heard of again."
	He sounded so gloomy that Dorothy giggled. "Silly. The
bunnies must use this passage all the time. I believe it's getting
roomier," she said a minute later. "And isn't it a little bit less
black?"
	The darkness was, indeed, becoming mere dimness; this light-
ened, as the passage twisted ever deeper and deeper into the earth,
until a soft, pervasive, pleasant glow illuminated the rocky walls
and roof. For a while the glow was blue, then gradually it changed
to green, to ruby-red, to amber, amethyst, and pink. As these
different colors shifted and played about them, the passage broad-
ened into a spacious, level tunnel.
	"Why, it's perfectly beautiful!" Dorothy said softly, and the
Lion, too, blinked with pleasure as he padded along. Scurrying
bunnies began to appear now, popping in and out of the branch-
ing passages, bent under the great loads of artificial grass or fes-
tooned with strings of painted baskets. All of them wore bright-
colored oval badges lettered "Dye-Mixer," "Dipper," "Runner,"
"Grass Dept." and the like, and all seemed to be in a frantic hurry.
As the light brightened, the traffic increased, and presently the
travelers emerged from the tunnel into a vast, high-vaulted cave.
	"My goodness!" Dorothy exclaimed, as they halted to look
around them with lively interest.
	The cave was brilliant with the jewel-like play of light, and
seething with activity. Bunnies were everywhere-watering plots
of artificial grass, weaving and painting baskets, or carving blocks
of chocolate into figures of rabbits or baby chicks. Some, in dye-
splashed aprons, were stirring great cauldrons which steamed over
little fires in rocky alcoves along one wall; the steam was vari-
colored, like the light. Others were loading handcarts with fresh-
dyed eggs and trundling them away.
	In the center of all, on a high basketwork throne, sat a person-
age who could be no other than the Easter Bunny himself. He was
nearly as tall as Dorothy, not counting his long, alertly twitching
ears. He wore a lavender waistcoat, a monocle on a purple ribbon,
and a golden crown, and was altogether a splendid figure as he
looked about him with watchful pink eves and twinkling whis-
kers, directing his busy kingdom.
	He spotted his visitors at once, and flung his monocle to his
eye to watch their approach. "Well, well, well!" he cried genially
as they reached the foot of his throne. "How d'ye do, I'm sure!
Who are you, my dear? Er-I trust your lion is quite tame?"
	"Oh, yes, your majesty," Dorothy assured him. "In fact, he's
civilized. He's the Cowardly Lion, and I'm Dorothy, and we've
come-"
"Not the Cowardly Lion? Not Princess Dorothy, of the Em-
erald City?" exclaimed the Easter Bunny, nearly falling off his
throne in his haste to clamber down. "Why, a thousand wel-
comes! I can't tell you how honored I am. Well! Of all people!-
and lions! What brings you here?"
	"Magic Belt," said the Cowardly Lion, shuddering at the
memory.
	"Ozma sent us," Dorothy said, and explained their errand. "I
hope your bunnies aren't too busy?" she finished anxiously.
	"Never!" declared the Easter Bunny. He laid a paw on his
lavender waistcoat and eyed her earnestly. "On the contrary, it
gives me great joy to be able to render some slight service to the
radiant Princess Ozma, whose loyal subject I am proud to be!
Here, Jumper, come take this little lady's order, quickly!"
	With one bound, a bunny carrying a notebook and wearing
a badge that said "Sales Dept." was at Dorothy's side, pencil poised
and whiskers twitching.
	"Now, I call that efficient," the Lion rumbled as Dorothy
placed their order.
	"Oh, we're all very efficient around here. We have to be," the
Easter Bunny told him. "Our production volume is almost as big
as Santa Claus's, you know. By the way, I do hope you have time
for a cup of carrot tea and some jellybeans before you leave?
Here, Knocker-hustle a tea-tray along to my office, will you?"
	The Cowardly Lion felt a great lack of enthusiasm for these
particular refreshments, but could think of no way to avoid them,
so when Knocker and Jumper had both bounded efficiently away,
he followed Dorothy and the Easter Bunny across the cave to a
large alcove. It was glassed in with panes of clear sugar, and fur-
nished with basketwork chairs and a large executive desk beauti-
fully carved of chocolate.
	"There-sit down, sit down, make yourselves at home. Ah,
here's the tea-tray!" said the Easter Bunny.
	Resigning himself to his fate, the Lion worried down a couple
of jellybeans and sipped nauseatedly at the carrot brew while the
Easter Bunny plied Dorothy with respectful questions about
Princess Ozma, and confided that it was his greatest ambition to
visit the Emerald City someday to offer his fealty in person.
	"Meanwhile," he added earnestly, "perhaps you wouldn't
mind carrying back a gift for the Princess, as a small token of my
esteem." He sat back, twirling his monocle on its ribbon. "Now,
let me see-what could I send her?"
	"Some of this excellent carrot tea, perhaps," said the Cow-
ardly Lion jovially. He had managed to empty his into a potted
plant, and was feeling quite secure.
	"Oh, do let me fill your cup!" exclaimed the Bunny, hospi-
tably refilling all the cups to the brim. "No, I want my gift to be
far more interesting than mere tea. Ah! I know the very thing!"
	Bounding to the door of his office, he summoned a runner.
"Fetch me the Great Egg from the Treasury," he ordered, ad-
ding in an undertone, "Better dust it before you bring it along."
Turning back to his guests with an embarrassed smile, he ex-
plained, "The Great Egg is quite a valuable antique by now, and
like all antiques, tends to need a bit of upkeep, which in a busy
place like my kingdom it doesn't always get. It was designed and
created by the Chief Artist of Bunnyland many years ago, during
my grandfather's reign, and won a kingdom-wide contest for the
most unusual egg. Indeed, I believe you'll find you've never seen
anything like it."
	"I've never even seen anything like this tea," the Cowardly
Lion said through his teeth.
	A few minutes later the runner appeared outside the sugar-
glass walls of the office, trundling a handcart in which the Great
Egg was balanced carefully on a pillow of woven grass. Though
still slightly dusty in spots, it really was quite magnificent. as they
discovered when they went out to inspect it (the Lion casually
dumping his tea into a vase on the way). It was about as big as
Dorothy's head, was made of sparkling crystallized sugar, and was
not only lavishly decorated but encircled by a band of beaten
gold. At one end was a peephole, covered by a round pane of the
clear sugar-glass and surrounded by stiff candy flowers. Anyone
looking through the peephole saw the Great Cave of Bunnyland
in lifelike miniature-and what was more astonishing, in action.
Dorothy and the Lion could even see themselves peeping into
the Egg, with the Easter Bunny standing beside them, the workers
busy at their tasks around them, and the colored lights playing
over all.
	"Ozma will love this!" Dorothy exclaimed, though privately
she was wondering how they would ever get such a fragile object
home safely. But the Easter Bunny had thought of everything.
Clapping his monocle to his eye, he hopped away, returning with
a basket that just fitted the Great Egg, and followed by a little
boy bunny who was to guide them out of the kingdom.
	After thanking him warmly and promising to bring Ozma to
visit him sometime, Dorothy and the Lion crossed the Cave once
more and started back along the tunnel. Their little guide went
with them to the point at which the colored lights began to dim,
then shyly pointed toward a smaller passage and hurried back to
his tasks.
	"Is this the way we came?" said the Lion as they started un-
certainly along the passage.
	"It must be," Dorothy told him. "Though it doesn't exactly
look familiar. Oh, ouch! I bumped my head!"
	"Roof's getting lower. Watch out, we're coming to another
zig. Or maybe it's a zag."
	The passage was, in fact, a constant succession of zigs and
zags, and it grew darker, narrower and lower all the time. Dorothy
had great difficulty managing the basket, as she crept along bent
almost double, trying to avoid the frequent rocks that protruded
from the rough walls. Before long, she and the Lion were both
bruised and scraped in a dozen places, as well as breathless.
	"Let's rest a minute!" Dorothy gasped finally, groping for her
big friend and leaning against him in the dark. "I can't believe
this is the same passage we used before. It's much longer and
rougher. Do you suppose that little boy bunny didn't know the
way?"
	"Either that, or we've zigged somewhere when we should
have zagged," the Lion panted.
	However, they crept on a few steps, edged their way around
another of the innumerable bends, and suddenly felt the ground
underfoot sloping steeply upward. At the same time, the passage
narrowed into a mere burrow, and they could see a circle of dim
green light ahead.
	"At last! That must be the rabbit-hole!" Dorothy said in re-
lief. "Now, if I can just get the basket through this last bit without
smashing the Egg. .
	A moment later they had squeezed through the hole and
emerged once more into the outside world-but not into the bram-
blebush they remembered. Instead, they found themselves stand-
ing in a patch of very tall, waving grasses at the foot of a gray
stone wall, which was so high it seemed to have no top, and curved
away in front of them without a gate or door of any kind.
	"So it wasn't the same passage!" Dorothy said, looking curi-
ously at the wall. "Now, where do you suppose we are? And
what's on the other side of that, I wonder?"
	"Let's not find out," growled the Lion, lashing his tail un-
easily. The wall looked too grim and bleak for his taste. "Come
on, if we just keep walking we're bound to come to a road soon."
	Sore, disheveled, smudged, and glad to be finished with tun-
nels, they started along the foot of the wall, following its curve.
They had not gone a dozen steps before they were startled by a
tremendous clatter and clanging and banging which suddenly
broke out somewhere ahead and above them. It grew louder and
louder, rose to a deafening climax, and was followed by a very
complicated crash, a few final clangs, then total silence. Exchang-
ing an astonished glance, they ran hastily farther around the wall's
curve.
	Next instant, a piercing neigh and a confusion of loud, in-
sulting yelling made the Lion flatten his ear's against his head.
Quivering with fright and indignation, he gave a tremendous roar.
At the same time, Dorothy screamed, dropped the basket, Egg
and all, and began wildly beating at the air, ducking and dodg-
ing as she shrieked, "Help! Help! A bat! Go 'way! Go 'way!"

Chapter 11

	S0-IN a muddle of misunderstanding-the
parties from Halidom and from the Emerald City came face to
face. For of course Dorothy's "bat" was none other than the
Flittermouse, who had become separated from his companions
a few moments before, during the tumble off the fire-escape.
And the lioncel that had so terrified Fred was merely the Cow-
ardly Lion, who now roared again, indignantly, at what he was
sure must be a deadly insult.
	"A lion sell!  he growled to Dorothy, glaring at the Steed.
"That big black bag of hones there called me a lion sell!"
	This was enough to make Fred pull himself together and re-
turn the glare. "Bag of bones!" he whinnied furiously. "Who's
a bag of bones, you great mop-head!"
	"What do you mean, mop-head?" snarled the Lion. "Take
that back, you big ink-blot, or I'll-"
	"Ink-blot indeed! Why, I'll have you know-"
	"Oh, please be quiet, Federigo'." begged Fess, who, being
more sensible than Fred, still felt extremely wary of the Cow-
ardly Lion, whether he was a lioncel or not.
	"I won't be quiet! My honor is at stake! I unconditionally
refuse to
	At this point the Flittermouse landed on Fess's shoulder and
began to cry bitterly.
	"A bat! Fess, dear, she called me a bat!"
	"But aren't you a bat?" quavered Dorothy, who still had both
hands clamped to her head to prevent the bat's getting tangled
in her hair.
	"No, he's not, he's a Flittermouse," Fess explained, trying to
shout above the din. "Fred, do be quiet!"
	"Everyone be quiet!" Prince Gules's voice suddenly rang out
with such authority that even the Lion was surprised into obeying.
In the silence the Prince stepped up to Dorothy, bowed in his
graceful, courtly manner, and added, "I apologize for the had
manners of my Steed. May I introduce myself?"
	"Oh. I wish you would," Dorothy said gratefully. By this
time she had noticed the Unicorn, and the Prince's crown, and
had taken a closer look at the Flittermouse, and her curiosity was
growing every second. "Is that a Unicorn?" she burst out.
	"The Unicorn," said that unusual creature, stepping daintily
over to her. "And you're a maiden, aren't you? It's lovely to
see a maiden again, after all these males. Would you care to weave
a daisy chain for my neck sometime-at your convenience, of
course? It would make me awfully happy."
	"Why, I'd love to, Dorothy told her. Smiling at the Prince,
she said, "I'm sure we were bad-mannered too. It was only be-
cause we were startled-and the Cowardly Lion thought he was
being insulted by your horse."
	"Steed," Fred corrected her sulkily. Under his breath he mum-
bled, "Admits he's a coward, does he?"
	"Certainly he does-and it makes him a terrific fighter," Dor-
othy retorted. "It seems to me," she added severely, "that it's much
better to admit you're a coward-and then act brave-than to pre-
tend you're brave, and then just yell 'Help! Help! the way you
and I did."
	This left Fred with eyes and mouth both open and not a word
to say. Fess could not help grinning at his stupefied expression.
But then the Unicorn murmured confidingly to Dorothy, "No
one expects maidens to be brave. After all, we femies are much
more sensitive than these crude males." And even the Flitter-
mouse, who was still sobbing disconsolately at being called a bat,
raised his head long enough to peer at Fred and quaver,

"Males who rage and roar are rude.
 Males who crowd are crude."

	At this point, Less decided his old friend was getting a bit too
much the worst of it. "I think Fred was just startled, too," he
explained. "We were all pretty shaken up right that minute-
we'd just fallen off a fire-escape."
	'"And we'd just climbed out of a rabbit-hole," the Cowardly
Lion admitted gruffly. "Still, that's no reason to go calling a fel-
low a lion sell, is it? I wish somebody'd tell me what it means."
	A good many explanations were in order, and several more
apologies-including a remorseful one from Dorothy to the Flit-
termouse, who was still feeling quite crushed. He had to be
coaxed for some time before he would consent to crawl out of
Fess's collar and sit for a moment on Dorothy's hand, still hic-
cupping a bit but smiling tentatively at her through his tears.
At last, after everybody was placated and the Cowardly Lion
was made to understand that "lioncel" was merely the Halidom
term for his species, the two parties got around to formal intro-
ductions. These aroused much interest and astonishment on both
sides.
	"Why, I've heard of Halidom," Dorothy exclaimed. "And
Troth too. I've a friend-Sir Hokus of Pokes-who always orders
his armor from there."
	"And I've read about you two in the Oztory books!" Fess
said diffidently. He felt very much impressed to be talking to
such famous celebrities, and was delighted to find them so mod-
est. "Why, they're just like anybody'." he thought.
	As for Fred, he was so overcome by the magnitude of his
faux pas in quarreling with such personages that he could only
stare miserably into space and conclude that his career was
wrecked.
	The Prince remained imperturbable, courtly, and as imprac-
tical as ever. "I am delighted to meet you both," he announced
with a winning smile. "I regret only that I cannot at this moment
offer you the hospitality of my father's palace, and arrange a
tourney in your honor. However, I hope you will do me the
honor of being my guests at luncheon."
	"But Your Highness, we haven't any luncheon!" Fess whis-
pered in a panic.
	"When we locate some, that is," Prince Gules added gra-
ciously.
	"We'll help you locate it," Dorothy said at once. "I'm hun-
gry too.
	"I'm starved," said the Cowardly Lion. "But no carrot tea,
if you please! I want some lion food for a change."
	Flitter, hoping very much that "lion food" didn't include
Flittermice and things, made himself inconspicuous behind the
popinjay feather on Fess's cap, but Dorothy merely remarked
that they'd be lucky to find people-food, and that what she
wanted was a place to sit down comfortably and talk. " 'Cause
I'm just plain curious about why you left Halidom, and where
you're going, and how you happened to be on that fire-escape-
and you're probably wondering what we were doing in a rabbit-
hole-"
	"And why a Royal Princess of Oz is wearing such a dirty
dress," the Cowardly Lion chuckled, trying with a few self-
conscious swipes at his mane to improve his own appearance.
	Fred, who had been musing bitterly on this very point, seized
the chance to climb back into grace. "That was rather confusing,
you know," he said rapidly. "If we'd had the least idea we were
talking to Important Personages . . .I come of quite an aristo-
cratic family, myself. I have a cousin who's a Destrier. As a mat-
ter of fact-" Catching Fess's disapproving frown, he broke off,
merely adding in an awed tone, "Are you really a close friend
of Princess Ozma?"
	"Yes, but I'll bet she'd hardly know me," Dorothy sighed
as she examined her once-white dress. Suddenly she cried,
"Ozma! The Egg'. Oh, my goodness, I've dropped the Egg some-
where!"
	"An egg?" Prince Gules said hopefully. "Something for
lunch, perhaps?"
	"No, it's not that kind of an egg, it's a present for Ozma.
Oh, there it is!" Dorothy ran quickly to where the Egg lay be-
side the overturned basket. Fortunately it had fallen in the soft
grass and was undamaged. "You must all see it- it's so interesting."

	"Later," the Cowardly Lion rumbled. "Stuff it in the basket
now, and bring it along. I intend to find some lunch before I do
another thing."
	This suited everybody. Within a few minutes they had
pushed their way through the high grass surrounding the wall,
and found beyond it a sunny meadow which supplied all their
needs. Dorothy, Fess and the Prince sat down under a big bread-
and-butter tree to lunch off its fruit, and the Cowardly Lion,
after a few dissatisfied remarks about proper lion food, joined
them. Fred began at once on the velvety grass, while the Flitter-
mouse skimmed over it, catching insects and nibbling the cen-
ters out of honey-flowers. The Unicorn browsed in a daisy patch
as close as she could get to Dorothy, for whom she seemed to
have formed a strong attachment. As they ate, they talked, and
before long had exchanged the complete stories of their various
adventures.
	Dorothy was greatly concerned about the theft of the Golden
Circlet of Halidom and the sad state of the kingdom. "Why,
that's dreadful!" she exclaimed. "Ozma must be told right away.
After all, she's the ruler of all Oz, and Halidom's a part of Oz.
I think you'd all better come straight to the Emerald City with
the Cowardly Lion and me. Then Prince Gules can tell her about
everything, and she and the Wizard can figure out what to do."
	"But I don't want her to do anything," the Prince objected.
"I want to find the Circlets myself, and win fame and glory."
	"It's going to be pretty hard, if you don't even know where
to look," Dorothy pointed out.
	"No matter. I insist on saving my own kingdom, and I want
no help."
	"But that's just-" Dorothy had been going to say "plain
stupid," but broke off, remembering that through no fault of his
own the Prince was stupid. "That's-very understandable," she
finished rather lamely.
	A few moments later, Fess drew her away from the others,
on the pretext of picking honey-flowers for dessert.
	"Prince Gules just doesn't realize what we're up against," he
said apologetically. "I think you're right about asking Princess
Ozma to help us. Why, we could wander around for months
without finding even one Circlet!"
	"Yes, and no telling what might become of Halidom in the
meantime," Dorothy said. "It's too bad-but if the Prince won't
listen he won't, that's all. Are you sure those Oracle verses are
no good?"
	"Well, we couldn't make any sense out of them, but maybe
you can. Here, take a look."
	Less dug the page from the register-book out of his pocket
and Dorothy studied the verses eagerly, but finally had to con-
fess that she was baffled too.
	"Of course, there are some clues here," she mused, frown-
ing at the paper. " 'In the hands of a future king'-Prince Gules
is a future king, isn't he?"
	"Yes, but Circlet Three isn't in his hands. If it were, the
people in Halidom could draw and weave as well as ever. And
the Unicorn thinks Flitter is 'the humblest of our number', but
how can Flitter find a Circlet? He's not even very bright."
	Dorothy sighed and handed the paper back to him. "Seems
to me we'll just have to get the Wizard to help. Do you s'pose
we could sort of steer the Prince toward the Emerald City with-
out his knowing it?"
	Fess had been thinking this very thing. Arguing away an un-
comfortable feeling of disloyalty by telling himself that it was
for the Prince's own good, he nodded. "It'd be easy, and we'd
better do it. Which way is the Emerald City from here?"
	"To tell the truth, I don't exactly know," Dorothy confessed
with a puzzled glance around the meadow. "I got awf'ly turned
around in all those twisty underground passages."
	Fess couldn't help laughing, and he felt a little better. "We're
in the same boat, then. You don't know where to find the Emer-
ald City, and we don't know where to find the Circlets. Why
don't we just travel together, and see which turns up first?"
	The others readily agreed to the idea of the two parties join-
ing forces-and Dorothy and Fess diplomatically avoided any
further mention of the Wizard. The Cowardly Lion, whose good
nature was entirely restored by several hundred slices of bread
and butter, merely reminded Dorothy that they had promised to
he home in time for the party.
	"But if you want to do a little sight-seeing first, it's quite all
right with me. This is our vacation, you know. I like traveling-
when I don't have to do it by Magic Belt. Climb on, let's go."
	Fess and the Prince mounted too, and they started across the
meadow. Dorothy carefully balanced the basket holding the
Egg; Fess's lunchbasket-now comfortably stuffed with bread-
and-butter sandwiches-dangled from Fred's saddle. The mead-
ow merged gradually into an attractive wood, in which they
passed several more bread-and-butter trees, and a few bread-
and-jam trees as well. Fess could not resist sliding off the Uni-
corn to add a few jam sandwiches to their provisions; soon Dor-
othy joined him, and they both filled their pockets and the
crannies of the Egg basket with peanut-butter-and-crackers from
a tree farther on. Before long they were passing doughnut trees
twined with marshmallow vines, and lollipop shrubs edging little
brooks of lemonade; and they had learned to make cautious de-
tours around the numerous cocoa bushes, which had a discon-
certing way of spilling hot chocolate down one's neck whenever
one brushed against them.
	"I wish I hadn't eaten so much plain bread and butter!" Dor-
othy exclaimed. "What sort of place is this, anyhow? Look,
there's a peppermint-drop fern. And a cookie tree!"
	"And there's the end of the path, unless I'm badly mistaken,"
the Cowardly Lion observed.
	Sure enough, directly ahead of them was a tall wrought-iron
fence, with a gate firmly closed across their path. On the gate
was a neat brass plate. Prince Gules now dismounted too, and
led the way over to it.
	It read, simply, "HOME."

Chapter 12

WELL," said Robin, "that's the end of
the woods. And there's plenty of roads down yonder, but I
don't see anything of that yellow brick one Howzatagin told
us about, do you?"
	Merry shook her head as they both examined the scene be-
fore them. "No. Those roads are all kind of blue."
	"Everything's kind of blue," Robin agreed in a puzzled tone.
	They were standing on a hillside overlooking a curiously
empty stretch of land which rose everywhere into barren, roll-
ing hills dotted with clumps of prickly pears. They could not
see over the hills, but they could see, winding in and out among
them, numerous tracks and paths, which looked well-traveled
though they were empty at the moment. The whole landscape
did, indeed, have a distinctly blueish cast.
	"Even the dirt's sort of blue," said Merry.
	"And those prickly-pear bushes-and the pines at the edge
of the woods. Look, Merry, isn't that queer?" Robin said as
they both glanced back toward the last scrubby fringe of trees.
"I thought those pine woods had a sort of red look when we
started through them, back by Howzatagin's cabin. And re-
member how red the rocks in the Red Gorge were? And all
that red clay in Fox-Hunter land? Now everything's changed
color."
	"You've changed countries, that's all," said a squeaky voice,
and a squirrel with bushy blue-gray fur scampered along a pine
branch to peer down at them.
	"Changed countries? You mean we're not in Oz any more?"
exclaimed Robin.
	"Of course you're in Oz. But you've left the Quadling
Country-it's the red one. You're in the Munchkin country
now. The border runs through these woods."
	"Oh. Then where's the Yellow Brick Road?" Robin asked.
"I don't know. Squirrels aren't concerned with roads. Ex-
cuse me, please, I have an important engagement with a hazel-
nut bush. Ta-ta!" With a flirt of his tail, the squirrel vanished
into the trees.
	"Well," Robin said, "Maybe one of those blue roads will
lead us to the yellow one. Come on, let's try it."
	The blue road was little more than a well-trodden footpath,
but for some time they followed it around the base of one hill
after another, seeing nothing but prickly-pear bushes, blue
rocks, and more barren hills ahead. Then they rounded the curve
of one last hill and were confronted by a very strange sight.
	Before them, in a bowl-shaped hollow among the dusty hills,
was a huge sphere made of some glistening, transparent stuff that
looked like pale blue glass. Inside it were many smaller spheres
the size of small houses, with an occasional larger dome thrusting
up above them, and Robin and Merry could see people moving
here and there along what appeared to be curving streets. Strang-
est of all, around the outside of the Great Sphere ran a broad
road paved with little round glass stones; and this road was really
running-circling frantically around and around the Sphere at
great speed, flashing blindingly in the sun.
	One bridge spanned the road, stretching from the foot of the
hill on which Robin and Merry stood blinking to a large round
opening in the Sphere. This entrance had elaborately worked
gates of wrought-iron-standing wide open at the moment-and
a round gatehouse at one side. A ramp led down to the level of
the bridge, across which short chubby people trudged occasion-
ally on their way to or from the Sphere.
	"It's a city," Robin said finally in a dazed voice. "It must be.
But it's absolutely the queerest one I ever saw!"
	"Maybe it's the Emerald City," Merry said hopefully.
	"Well-I don't see any emeralds. Of course, maybe they
keep 'em in a safe or something. Did you ever see anything like
that glass road, Merry! Let's go down and look around."
	Merry was just as curious as he was, and in a very few minutes
they had cantered to the bottom of the hill and wandered, gaping
around them, onto the bridge, which happened to be empty
when they reached it. Halfway across, Merry stopped to peer
over the railing at the dazzling, circling road below.
	"Come away, Merry!" Robin exclaimed, shuddering and
tugging at the gilded reins. "It looks dangerous!"
	"Dangerous?" Merry gave her little whicker of laughter and
danced even closer to the rail. "But it's just like the merry-go-
round, Robin! Oh, dear, it almost makes me homesick. Round
-and round-and round- Make some calliope noises, Robin!"
	In a transport of nostalgia, Merry began to bound gracefully
in circles in the middle of the bridge. Robin clung to her pole
and cast nervous glances at the glass road wheeling beneath him,
humming a few "teedle-eedle-eedles" just to please her. Neither
of them noticed the group of chubby people who emerged from
the gates just then. The people halted, apparently transfixed, at
sight of the circling little mare. Then, after exchanging
astonished glances, they hurried to the middle of the bridge.
Merry, finding herself surrounded, halted abruptly.
	"Hello," said Robin cautiously, looking around the circle of
strange faces, all of which displayed the liveliest interest. There
were five men and three women, all short and roly-poly, with
countenances as round as full moons, set with round blue eyes.
	"Hello," they answered in chorus. As they spoke,
raised their right hands with tip of thumb and forefinger
together to form a little circle. It seemed to be a gesture of
so Robin politely imitated it, and waited for someone to
When no one did, he ventured to ask what city this was.
	"This is Roundabout, your honor," answered a man in
polka dot jacket.
	Before Robin had recovered from being called "your honor,
a second man, wearing a tunic embroidered with spirals, said
"And we are Roundheads. Your honor is very welcome!
we ask who your honor is'? And what is that thing with you?"
	Before Robin could answer, the man in the polka dots gasp
"Thing? Thing!" and turned, wide-eyed and excited, to
companions. They immediately grew as excited as he, clutching
each other and repeating, "Thing! It's a thing!"
	"I'm not a Thing!" Merry said indignantly. "Am I, Robin?
	"No, of course not," Robin soothed her, adding to
Roundheads, "This is Merry. Merry Go Round. And I'm Robin
Brown, and we-"
	"Merry Go Round?" echoed the Roundheads joyously,
Polkadots added, "Oh, please, your honor Robin, what brought
you here?"
	Wondering why the little man's voice trembled with w~
seemed unbearable suspense, Robin replied, "To tell the truth
I don't know. All I did was catch the brass ring-and here I am!
At this the Roundheads simply went wild with excitement
"The ring! The ring brought him!" they babbled to each other
"And he brought the Thing! The ring! The Thing! The king!
thething! Thering!"
	"What do they mean, Robin?" Merry asked crossly. She
felt very confused, and it made her nervous.
	"Nothing, as far as I can tell," Robin told her. "They're just
talking in circles."
	"Yes, yes, in circles!" Polkadots agreed eagerly.
	"And you were running in circles when we found you!"
added Spirals. "Everything's round, even their names!" he an-
nounced triumphantly to the others, upon which the babble
broke out again. "Yes, everything's round! Everything's round!"
"And the treasure's found-Roundelay found it day before
yesterday!"
	"Oh, welcome, welcome, your honors!" Polkadots said
earnestly. "We've been expecting you a long time!"
	"Expecting us?" Robin said in surprise.
	"Oh, yes! You and the Thing," said the Roundheads.
"You're a king, aren't you?"
	"A king?" Robin gasped. "My goodness, no! How did you
ever-I'm just a-I'm just Robin."
	The joyous babble died away at this, and the smiles turned
to anxious frowns. The Roundheads looked at each other and
began a lowtoned, puzzled discussion, which seemed to feature
the words "ring" and "Thing", and several suggestions to "ask
Roundelay."
	"I'll bet I know what it is," Robin whispered to Merry.
"They're probably expecting the king of some neighboring
country on a State Visit or something. And here it's nobody but
us. Kind of embarrassing all around." Raising his voice a little,
he said diffidently, "I guess we came at just the wrong time. I'm
sorry. We'll leave right away, if somebody would just tell us
where the-"
	"Oh, don't leave!" the Roundheads chorused in dismay.
	"Oh, no!" Polkadots exclaimed. "You must meet Rounde-
lay, your honors. He's our Sphere-Seer. Please, come in. Let us
show you around our city. And then stay for lunch! We have an
awfully pretty city," he added so coaxingly that Robin turned
pink, and felt more flattered than ever in his life.
	"Probably," he told himself honestly, "they've given up on
that king, and just want to entertain somebody, so as not to waste
the refreshments." But he was dying to see inside the Sphere, so
after only a moment's hesitation, he shyly accepted the invita-
tion, hoping he and Merry wouldn't be too much in the way in
case the real king showed up after all.
	The Roundheads did not seem the least bit worried about
that; with a delighted cheer they hurried their guests through
the wrought-iron gates into the city. The appearance of strangers
in the glass streets of Roundabout caused an instant commotion.
Every Roundhead in sight came running to stare at them and ask
excited questions of the others, who were already trying to tell
all about it. Since everybody was talking at once, Robin and
Merry caught only a few words-the familiar "king", "Thing",
and "ring", along with several references to "Roundelay" and
something called a "Round House"-but they were too busy
gaping at this strange and interesting city to listen anyway. At
last several delegations detached themselves importantly from
the crowd and scurried away in various directions, and Spirals
and Polkadots led the visitors toward the nearest winding avenue,
with the rest of the joyous, chattering citizens trooping along
behind.
	"Now this, Your Honors," announced Polkadots proudly, "is
Corckscrewe Street, named for a Founding Father of our city,
who designed the Great Sphere, and built the Round House."
	"What is this Round House?" Merry whispered to Robin.
"All the houses look round to me!"
	Indeed, they were-and since they were all fashioned of the
shimmering pale blue glass, it was easy to see that even the furni-
ture inside was round. The larger domes, Polkadots explained,
were all factories; and Robin, peering with interest through their
transparent walls as the procession moved through the winding
streets, soon realized that everything the people manufactured
was round, as well. One factory made balls of every description,
from tiny ball-bearings to huge beach balls; another made hoops
and rings; another, plates and saucers; another, wheels and coils.
There was still another that puzzled Robin. He could see shining
machinery and round work tables, but he could see no merchan-
dise at all.
	"What is made there?" he asked Polkadots, who was walking
beside his right stirrup.
	"Holes, Your Honor," the little Roundhead answered. "To
fit in wells, and doughnuts, and zeros, you know."
	"And in croquet wickets?" suggested Robin, fascinated.
	"Oh, no! They're not round. We make round things here
We also make our rounds," Polkadots added a bit wearily.
see, we're a nation of peddlers, your honor. We tramp about
the Munchkin country selling the things we make. But we'
getting terribly tired of it," he added in a pleading voice.
"We're really a home-loving people," said Spirals, peering
up earnestly into Robin's eyes.
	"Besides, business has fallen off badly lately," put in a wistful
voice from the crowd.
	"Oh, very badly! It's awful!" cried several other voices.
	Robin said sympathetically, "It's hard to sell things." He had
once tried to sell can-openers for the Cub Scout Fund, and found
it tough going.
	"Well, it's never before been hard to sell our things," Polka-
dots declared. "Because they never wear out. That's the whole
trouble! We've already sold our customers all the ball-bearings
and holes and wheels and saucers they can use-and now nobody
will buy any more, because the old ones are still perfectly good!
It's certainly balled up our economy, I can tell you!" He pointed
to a factory they were passing. "Just look at all those surplus
cymbals! The more they pile up, the less we sell, and the less we
sell, the more they pile up! Why, it's a vicious circle!"
	"Isn't it, Your Honor?" Spirals added with a coaxing smile.
	"Seems to me you'll have to find some new customers,"
Robin told him.
	"Oh, no! We couldn't call on new customers, because we
always call on old ones," Spirals explained.
	Merry blinked, exchanged a puzzled glance with Robin, and
suggested, "Well, then, make things that wear out!"
	"Oh, no!" Polkadots said in a shocked voice. "We couldn't
make imperfect things! Ours are always perfect!"
	This time Robin blinked too; somehow the conversation
didn't seem to be getting anywhere. "Mighty few things are ever
perfect," he remarked. "Are you sure?"
	"Oh, yes!" a dozen voices assured him, and Polkadots added,
"All the experts say so!"
	"But who are the experts?" Robin persisted.
	"Why-people who realize our products are perfect," Spirals
explained. "Perfection is our motto, you see. And our National
Emblem is a circle-the Perfect Circle."
	"I thought you said it was a Vicious Circle?" whinnied
Merry, who was by now totally confused.
	"That's right-perfectly vicious!" Polkadots agreed en-
thusiastically, and all the others chorused, "Perfectly vicious!"
then fixed Robin with wistful eyes. Spirals smiled winningly and
added, "And perfectly circular."
	It occurred to Robin that there was something perfectly cir-
cular about the National Reasoning, too, but before he could
figure out just what it was, one of the Roundhead women spoke
up in an eager, pleading voice.
	"Please, Your Honor, we don't care if business improves or
not. The truth is, we're tired of being peddlers and factory-
workers. We want to stay home in our pretty city and be ladies
and gentlemen, and have crown jewels and National Magic Pos-
sessions and things, like other cities, and be glamorous and
interesting!"
	"Oh, yes! That's what we want!" several other Roundheads
cried.
	"And when we have a king, we can do those things, you see,
your honor?" the woman went on persuasively. "Don't you
think that will be nicer than the way things are now?"
	"Oh, yes, much nicer," Robin agreed, wondering what his
opinion had to do with it. "Are you going to have a king, then?"
he added politely.
	"Yes, Your Honor," Polkadots said in a solemn tone. "That is
perfectly certain. We will have a king. The Prophecy says so.
And our king will solve all our problems, and take care of us
forever."
	"Well! That's mighty nice," said Robin, privately thinking
it was quite a bit to ask even of a king.
	"Mighty nice! Oh, mighty nice! Yes, mighty, mighty,
mighty nice!" cried the Roundheads joyfully. They began to
dance in circles on the glassy street, singing their National
Anthem, "Round and Round the Ballbearing Bush."
	They had by this time arrived at the largest dome of all,
which Robin guessed must be the Round House. Unlike the
other buildings, it was a deep sapphire blue, and was flanked by
a tall Round Tower, which had small circular windows all around
its top but no door giving on the street. The Round House itself
had a thick glass door that reminded Robin of the bottom cut
from some vast blue bottle; this was thrown open, and Robin
and Merry were ushered into a huge round room.
	Merry shied violently at a large white object on a dais in the
middle of the room. "Is it a ghost?" she whispered in a trembling
voice.
	"No, just something wrapped in dust-sheets," Robin re-
assured her, sliding from the saddle and looking about him curi-
ously. The room was odd but attractive, furnished with blue
rugs and round blue velvet hassocks, with numerous small doors
around the walls. As the Roundheads came dancing in, still
bellowing their anthem, one of these little doors popped open,
and a strange little man popped out, followed by one of the
Roundhead delegations that had separated from the crowd
earlier. He wore a long, flapping robe embroidered all over with
pinwheels, and a high, peaked hat with a ball at its tip. Unlike
the other Roundheads, he was almost skinny, and he had sly,
gleaming eyes that made Robin instantly uneasy. However, he
was beaming hospitably, and hurried toward the visitors with
every appearance of delight, the delegation trotting after.
	"Welcome! Welcome!" he exclaimed, bowing and bobbing
and nodding and making repeated little circles with his fingers.
As the last rafter-shaking notes of the anthem subsided at last,
he swept a grandiose bow and said in a loud and solemn voice,
"I am honored. The Round House is honored. All Roundabout
is honored! A hundred welcomes to Your Majesty!"
	"Oh, dear," Robin groaned. "He's got things muddled too!"
It was the awkwardest thing, having to keep telling people you
weren't a king. "Excuse me, sir, but-are you the mayor or some-
thing?"
	"Ah, no, no, Your Majesty," the little man chuckled, shaking
his head until the ball on his peaked cap waggled and bounced.
"I am merely Roundelay, Sphere-Seer of Roundabout, tempor-
ary guardian of this beautiful city and humble advisor to the
Roundheads."
	"Well, anyway, you're in charge, aren't you?" Robin went
on hurriedly. He was anxious to get the embarrassing part over
with as soon as possible. "You see, there's been a sort of mix-up.
I'm afraid the-the delegation there must have told you I was the
king you were expecting for lunch, but they're mistaken, 'cause
I'm not, really. I'm only-"
	"Ah, but they are not mistaken!" cried Roundelay. "You
are the king we've been expecting."
"Yes, yes, you are!" shouted the Roundheads. "You are,
you are, you-
The noise went on for some time. After exchanging a baffled
glance with Merry, Robin peered carefully at Roundelay, then
around at the rejoicing citizens, wondering if he could have
strayed into a city of harmless lunatics. Still, the Roundheads
seemed fairly sane-except on this one subject. Holding up both
hands for silence, he tried again.
	"Look, Mr. Roundelay," he said firmly. "I'm sorry to dis-
appoint everybody-honest, I am. But this is all a mistake! It-"
	"Indeed? Indeed?" murmured Roundelay, whose gleaming
eyes were moving rapidly from Robin to Merry and back again.
"But is it not true that your name is Robin-as in 'round-robin'-
and that this attractive Thing's name is Merry Go Round?"
	"Yes, that's true, but-"
	"And," Roundelay interrupted, beginning to rub his hands
together, "were you not discovered on our bridge, cavorting in
circles?"

	"Well, I don't know about cavorting. Merry was wheeling
around, but-"
	"Wheeling around!" Roundelay echoed gleefully, rubbing
his hands even faster. "Round, round, everything's round! And
-just mention once more what brought you to our country?"
	"Well, in the beginning, the brass ring brought us.
you'd listen-"
	"No need! It's proved! You've proved it yourself!" shrieked
Roundelay. As the Roundheads burst into a deafening cheer, he
shouted above it, "Hail to Round Robin, King of Roundabout!
Hail to Merry Go Round, Royal Symbol! Hail-"
"King of Roundabout?" gasped Robin. "W-wait a minute-"
"Royal Cymbal!" Merry whinnied shrilly. "Are they going
to beat me?"
	"No, they don't mean that kind of a cymbal, Merry, but-
oh, jeepers, if they'd only . . . Be quiet!" Robin yelled suddenly
at the top of his voice.
	To his surprise, everybody obeyed instantly, but before he
could draw another breath Roundelay was already talking again,
bowing, rubbing his hands and smiling ingratiatingly.
	"Pardon, Your Majesty! We are too boisterous in our re-
joicing. Your Majesty must forgive us! It is just that we have so
looked forward to the day when we would have a king!"
	"But I'm not your king! Whatever makes you think I am?"
	"Why, the prophecy!" chortled Roundelay. Waving his
bony hands to the rhythm, he chanted,

"The ring will bring the king
The king will bring the Thing-
Everything round
The treasure's found,
The ring will bring the king."

	"That's the prophecy?" Robin said, dumbfounded.
	"It is. And you are our long-awaited rulers! There's no doubt
whatever! Between you, you fulfill every line!"
	"Not unless you call me a Thing, and I won't let you!" cried
Merry, her eyes filling with tears.
	"Yes, and what about the treasure? We haven't got any treas-
ure!" Robin protested.
	"Ah-ha, but we have!" Roundelay chuckled, wagging a
long finger at him and dancing about ecstatically. "We have
recently acquired a treasure, a National Magic Possession, all our
own-the Shining Circle of Roundabout! Now we have a Sover-
eign, too, and Roundabout can at last begin to be glamorous and
interesting! Hooray! Make ready for the Royal Coronation! Give
orders for the Royal Banquet! Roundabout's turn has come
around at last!"
	"Hooray! Hooray!" yelled all the Roundheads, and surged
into a perfect fury of activity.
	While Robin and Merry stood dazed, the dust-sheets were
whipped off the object on the dais, revealing a glittering barrel-
shaped throne, made of sapphire-blue glass and upholstered in
pale blue velvet. Several Roundheads dashed through a door at
the rear of the room, shouting for the cooks; others produced
from somewhere a huge velvet cushion on which rested a spark-
ling blue glass crown and sceptre; still others, after considerable
agitated rummaging in a closet, brought forth a length of the
blue velvet trimmed with spun glass fringe. A moment later a
whole troup of chubby little Roundhead children dressed in
blue-embroidered choir robes filed in through the big door,
shrilly singing the National Anthem as a round. Breathless but
all present, the entire citizenry gathered around, and Roundelay
stepped forward.
	Before Robin and Merry had even begun to recover from
their bewilderment at the rapid sequence of events, the fringed
blue velvet cape was thrown over Merry's back, the crown placed
on Robin's head, and the sceptre thrust into his hand. They were
led to the dais amid noisy national rejoicing, and without further
ceremony hailed as King Round Robin the First, Ruler of the
Roundheads and Sovereign of the Sphere, and Merry Go Round,
Royal Symbol of Roundabout.
	"From kennel-boy to king, in one easy step, Robin mum-
bled as the populace began a group of round-dances in their
honor. "Anyway, Merry, you can't say I haven't come up in the
world."
	"But my goodness, Robin, what'll we do?" Merry whinnied.
"I don't even know how to be a Royal Symbol!"
	"I don't know how to be a king, either--especially the kind
they want, that's going to take care of them all their lives, and
solve all their problems! Why, Merry, not even real kings do
that! We'll just have to convince them, somehow, that they're
wrong about us-but there's no sense trying now. They're
making too much noise to hear a single word we say."
"Anyway, we've already tried, and they won't believe us!"
	"Oh, they're bound to when the excitement dies down
little. I'm sure they mean well, Merry. They're awfully nice."
	"All except that Seer," Merry muttered, rolling an eye
toward Roundelay, who was watching the dancing from the foot
of the dais, and still rubbing his hands.
	Robin glanced at him too, and nodded. In his opinion
Roundelay smiled too much, and there was something curiously
sly about his manner-especially when he had mentioned that
Shining Circle, whatever it was. But the other Roundheads
seemed honest, hard-working people, and they wanted so badly
to have a king and be glamorous and interesting that Robin felt
a little sorry for them.
	"Tell you what, Merry," he suggested as the dancing drew
to a close. "We might stay for a day or two, just to please them.
After that, we can go on to the Emerald City and see Princess
Ozma and the Wizard."
	"All right," Merry agreed. "I can wait that much longer to
be a Real Horse. And I do kind of like this velvet cape," she
confided.
	"Then as soon as everybody goes home, I'll tackle that
Roundelay, and tell him what we're going to do," Robin said
firmly.
	He had to wait some time before he could carry out this plan,
because the moment the floor was cleared of dancers, the kitchen
doors burst open and huge trays of steaming food were borne in
by blue-liveried servants. To Robin, who had eaten nothing all
morning but raspberries and a seed cookie, the banquet was the
best part yet of being king. There was round steak, ground-
round formed into meat balls with a delicious sauce, and the even
more delicious National Dish of Roundabout, called Pi. This was
a light pastry tart stuffed with prickly pears, and had a flavor
unlike anything Robin had ever tasted. He prudently ate two
helpings of everything-and three of Pi-since he didn't know
when he would get anything else.
	"Because once we explain that the prophecy didn't really
mean us," he whispered to Merry, "they might not even want us
to stay for dinner."
	He was wrong. When the citizens departed to their homes
and he at last had a chance to tell Roundelay that he couldn't be
king, though he wouldn't mind staying for a day or two, he was
informed that he had no choice in the matter.
	"The prophecy says the ring will bring the king, and the
king will bring the Thing, and that you'll both make Round-
about prosperous forever," Roundelay declared.
	"Forever?" Robin cried. "But listen here! We're on our way
to the Emerald City to see Princess Ozma! I've got to get back
to Oregon!"
	"And I've got to get changed to a Real Horse!" Merry
wailed.
	"Besides, your old prophecy doesn't even mean us! And
where does it say anything about making Roundabout prosperous
forever?" Robin added suspiciously.
"There's another verse," Roundelay said, evading his eye.
"I'll bet there's not! Recite it to us!"
	"Never mind. You're king of Roundabout and this horse is
the Royal Thing-I mean Symbol. You came exactly according
to the prophecy. And now you're here, you'll stay!" Roundelay
said stubbornly.
"Oh, no we won't! And you can't make us!" Robin shouted.
	"Can't I?" inquired Roundelay, beginning to chuckle and
back toward the door, his shifty eyes gleaming. "Can't I, indeed?
Just take a look out there, if you don't believe me!"
	He waved toward the window, and Robin and Merry rushed
over to peer out. What they saw was the dangerous glass road,
flashing 'round and 'round as far as they could see. The bridge
which was the only means of exit from the city had been shut
like a dresser drawer into some cavity beneath the Sphere, and
the wrought iron gates were shut and padlocked.
	"We've no need for a bridge, now that we can stay home and
be ladies and gentlemen," came Roundelay's sly voice "From
this moment on, Roundabout's welfare is up to you. I'll be back
in half an hour to show you around the Round House and to
hear your plans for our future prosperity. Good-day, Your
Majesty!" He burst into gleeful chuckles, and the great glass
door slammed shut.
	Whirling around, Robin and Merry found themselves alone.
And, after futilely shaking and pounding on every door in the
room, they found that they were royal prisoners, as well.

Chapter 13


	DOROTHY, Fess, Prince Gules, Fred, the
Cowardly Lion, the Unicorn, and the Flittermouse were still stand
mg in a puzzled row, staring up at the brass plate that read
"HOME", when they heard childish laughter, and a burst of sing-
ing in treble voices. Peering through the iron gates, they saw hun-
dreds of small children, all dressed in crisp, clean, starchy pinafore
or short white linen pants, playing merrily on vast green lawns
A few taller figures, in full blue skirts and tiny caps with fluttering
white ribbons, strolled here and there among them; in the back-
ground, a long, white-columned building stood among shade trees.
It was such a pretty sight that Dorothy exclaimed aloud in
pleasure, the Cowardly Lion began to purr, and even Fred nickered
softly and cocked his head in a sentimental manner.
"What charming little tots!" Prince Gules said cordially.
"What clean ones!" Fess added incredulously.
"Fess, dear," squeaked the Flittermouse, poking his head
through the popinjay feather, "what rhymes with beautiful? Can
anybody think what rhymes with beautiful?"
	"Dutiful," the Unicorn said amiably. "I wonder if those little
maidens would make me a daisy chain? I believe I'll ask them to let
me in."
	There was no need to ask. Their voices had attracted the atten-
tion of the nearest group of children, who instantly broke off their
game and ran with delighted cries to open the gates.
	"Come in! Come in and play!" cried half a dozen shrill little
voices.
	"Oh, look, a horsey!" shrieked one little girl.
	"Horsey?" snorted Fred, switching from sentimentality to in-
dignation. "See here, Miss-er-Tot, I am a Steed, not a-"
	"And a itty-bitty white donkey!" cried several others.
	"Could they mean me?" the Unicorn gasped.
	"And a big, big pussy-cat!" shouted a little boy.
	The Cowardly Lion, who had been chuckling under his breath
at Fred's outraged expression, abruptly assumed one of his own.
"Pussy-cat!" he growled. "Take that back, Moppet, or I'll pussy-
cat you!"
	Oh, hush-they're only little children!" Dorothy begged.
	"We're Good Children," a little golden-haired girl informed
her.
	"I'm sure you are," the Prince said graciously. "Ah-will you
be so kind as to show us the way through your charming-ah
park?"
	"If you'll play a game with us," piped the child Fred had called
"Miss Tot."
	"I suppose we could play just one game with them, couldn't
we?" Dorothy said to her companions. Smiling at the children, she
added, "What shall we play? Blindman's Buff? Tag? Ring Around
the Rosy?"
	"Oh, no!" the children chorused, turning shocked, wide eyes
upon her. "Those are naughty, rough games!"
	"Ring Around the Rosy is naughty and rough?" the Cowardly
Lion said incredulously.
	"Oh, yes! We might get our hands dirty!" exclaimed the boy
he had called "Moppet".
	"Or muss our hair!" several little girls cried in dismay.
	"Or wrinkle our pretty, clean clothes!" added the Moppet,
carefully smoothing his spotless and absolutely wrinkle-free jacket.
	"My!" said Dorothy, rather dashed. "You certainly are good
children, aren't you?"
	"Oh, yes. This is Good Children's Land," Miss Tot said
primly. She pointed to the white building among the trees. "That's
the Nursery. We live there."
	"With the Nannies," added a boy.
	"That's a Nannie," offered another, pointing to one of the
strolling figures in the white-ribboned caps.
	"And we're little Ladies and Gent'mun, and always mind our
Nannies, and do as we're bid, and drink up all our milk. And we
have lovely porridge for breakfus, and bread-and-jam for lunch,"
the Moppet announced.
	"Well! Now we know all about you, don't we?" Fess said,
trying not to laugh.
	"Oh, no!" Miss Tot informed him. "You don't know what
we're going to have for dinner!"
	Immediately all the children's faces lighted up, and they began
giving little hops and handclaps of delight, shouting, "Parsnips!"
"Spinach!" "Mashed carrots!" "Bread-pudding!" "Oh, goody,
goody!"
	"Ugh," Fess said frankly, exchanging a revolted look with
Dorothy.
	The Flittermouse whispered, "At least they didn't invite us to
stay, Fess dear! In fact, let's go!"
	The Cowardly Lion, who had sat down and closed his eyes in a
nauseated way at the sound of the dinner menu, hastily opened
them again and got up. "Yes, we must go. I've just remembered
some urgent business. I-"
	Paying no attention, the children continued their hopping and
goodying and hand-clapping. "And then do you know what we
get to do?" the Moppet shrieked joyfully.
	"No, but I can see you're going to tell us," sighed the Lion,
sitting down again.
	"We get to Clean Our Teeth!" "Yes, and Scrub Our Han-
nies!" ("Hannies!" the Lion groaned, lashing his tail.) "And have
our Ears Washed!" "And then it'll be Bedtime!"
	"Never," Prince Gules remarked thoughtfully to Fred, as the
happy anticipatory little cries of "Bedtime! Oooo, goody! Bed-
time!" shrilled around him, "Never have I encountered such insuf-
ferable little namby-pambys. Let us continue our journey."
	"Yes, let's!" Dorothy said with feeling.
	Since all the travelers were heartily bored with the Good Chil-
dren, there was an immediate chorus of agreement, and the Flitter-
mouse-who had so far remained unnoticed behind the popinjay
feather-fluttered down to his traveling position on Fess's shoul-
der. Instantly several children spotted the little creature, and clus-
tered around Fess, making little snatches and shouting, "Oh,
look! A mouse! A teeny blue mouse!"
	"A mouse? First a bat, and then a mouse!" Flitter squeaked as
he tried to avoid the chubby fingers. "Help! Don't do that! Oh,
dear!" Wildly flapping his wings, he beat off a clutching little hand
and hurled himself in the air, where he skittered about a moment
in confusion, squeaking, "Oh, dear me," and finally landed on
the highest thing he could find, which happened to be the tip of
the Unicorn's horn. "Do you mind if I sit here, Unicorn dear?" he
quavered breathlessly. "If I can hang on, that is?"
	"Not at all," the Unicorn assured him. "I have every sympathy
for you, and I'll hold my head very still."
	"Oh, I like you. You're nice," Flitter told her tearfully. "Not
at all like those beautiful, dutiful, namby-pamby . . . Oh, my,
that's a little rhyme, isn't it? They clutch too much," he
then exclaimed, "Oh, My!" and fell silent, almost overcome by
own brilliance.
	"Beautiful is as beautiful does," the Unicorn sniffed as she be-
gan to pick her way through the crowd of children.
	This was extremely difficult, as they were still hopping,
bing, chattering in their piercing trebles, and getting so success-
fully underfoot that the travelers could scarcely move. Fess
the Prince tried to clear a way through the mass for Fred, who
hardly dared put a hoof down for fear of treading on a child
Dorothy, attempting to do the same for the Cowardly Lion,
lifted the Egg-basket high, thus unintentionally-and most unfor-
tunately-revealing the stains and smudges her white dress had
acquired in the rabbit-hole. This produced a concerted shriek of
horror from the children.
	"Her clothes are dirty!" they gasped to each other, pointing
trembling fingers at Dorothy's skirt. "Oh, look, look! The Big
Girl's clothes are dirty!" For an instant they shrank back in dis-
may-for only for an instant.
	"Poor Big Girl! We'll save her!" the Moppet shouted.
	"Oh, yes! Take her to a Nannie!" the others chorused.
	The next thing the stunned travelers knew, the entire mob of
tots had rushed at Dorothy, knocked the Egg-basket from her
hands in a shower of peanut-butter-and-crackers, and were hurry-
ing her off across the lawns toward the nearest Nannie, still utter-
ing loud, shocked noises of concern and sympathy.
	"G-reat golliwogs!" the Cowardly Lion stuttered. "Come on!"
	Fess snatched up the Egg-basket, and the entire party pelted
across the grass in pursuit, but the Nannie, after one horrified
glance at Dorothy, seized her wrist and rushed her into the great
colonnaded Nursery building, slamming the door in the faces of
her breathless and consternated companions.
	Prince Gules tried the door at once, and found it locked fast.
	"They can't do this!" Fred neighed hysterically. "Don't they
know who we are? Don't they realize-"
	"Oh, hush, Federigo," Fess begged. "Don't stand there
whinnying about your dignity, try to kick that door down!"
	"I?" Fred stared, dumbfounded. "I, a Steed of Halidom, so
forget my education and my manners as to kick?"
	"Then stand aside, or I'll forget mine and have horsemeat for
dinner," snarled the Cowardly Lion, preparing to hurl himself at
the door.
	"Wait-perhaps I can break the lock with my horn," the Uni-
corn put in.
	At that moment they heard the rattle of a window sash, and a
faint hail from somewhere above and to their left. Dashing around
the corner of the building, they saw Dorothy's distressed face
framed in a second story window.
	"Here I am," she called, "and don't be worried, because I'm
perfectly all right, only I'm locked in this play room, and I can't
get out!"
	"For heavens sakes, jump! I'll catch you!" the Cowardly Lion
promised recklessly.
	"I can't-they've taken my dress away to wash! What's more,
that Nannie is coming in a minute to give me a shampoo and a bath
whether I want it or not! It's perfec'ly infuriating!"
	"Isn't there any way we can get your dress?" Fess asked
anxiously.
	"Not that I know of, and I think you'd all better run before
any more of those bossy Nannies show up. You're none too clean
yourselves, you know, after falling off that fire-escape and getting
hot chocolate spilled down your neck in the woods, and-Oh,
hurry! Here they come!"
	Looking hastily in the direction she was pointing, they saw
a whole new crowd of children running and skipping toward the
Nursery, herded along by a dozen Nannies.
	"Hurry, nothing! We're not going to run away and leave you
here to face those parsnips and mashed carrots!" Fess said indig-
nantly.
	"Perish the thought!" the Lion said with a shudder. "Come on,
jump! Never mind your dress!"
	"Mightn't you climb down those vines?" Prince Gules sug-
gested vaguely, squinting at a very small creeper clinging to the
side of the building.
	"Or just fly?" the Flittermouse coaxed. "Just this once? It's
easy, truly it is, Dorothy dear! See me?" He fluttered about acro-
batically to show how easy it was, but Dorothy only wrung her
hands and begged them all to run.
	"I'll get away somehow, and find you outside the fence, I
promise, but-Oh, please hurry, they're almost here!"
	"Here, hold this, Your Highness!" Fess thrust the Egg-basket
into the Prince's hands and dashed toward the vine. Whether he
would have succeeded in climbing up it or not he never knew, for
at that moment the Nannies and children arrived, and the whole
party was not only surrounded, but nearly deafened.
	"Naptime! Naptime! Naptime!" the shrill little voices chanted.
	"Come along, now, come along now, time to take your nice
naps," the Nannies cried briskly.
	Struggle as they might, the travelers found themselves swept
irresistibly back toward the front door of the building. It did no
good at all to protest that they must go on, that they were engaged
in an important Quest, that Dorothy must be released immediately,
if not sooner. Both Nannies and children were merely shocked,
and announced disapprovingly that they could not possibly go
now! It was Naptime!
	At this the Cowardly Lion lost his temper completely. Snarling,
"It's not my naptime!" he stopped in his tracks, opened his mouth,
and roared deafeningly.
	The effect was devastating. Nannies and children screeched,
flung up their hands and scattered in every direction; the Unicorn
backed full tilt into a tree: the Flittermouse dived headfirst into
the Egg-basket; and Fred sat down. Indeed, the travelers were
almost as startled as the Nannies and children-even the Cowardly
Lion had to lean against a column for a moment with his ears flat-
tened and his legs trembling panting as the echoes died away.
	Surprisingly, it was Prince Gules who first recovered his wits.
Even more surprisingly, he took instant action. Still clutching the
Egg-basket, out of which the Flittermouse's head was now warily
protruding, he ran back to Dorothy's window, shouting, "Quick-
ly! Quickly! Our chance has come!"
"Ch-chance?" Dorothy stammered, taking her fingers out of
her ears.
	"Yes, and you must hurry! They'll soon be returning. Are
there clothes-closets in that playroom?"
"Well, there's a toy-closet-yes, there's a clothes-closet, too.
But what-"
	"Just obey me! Go quickly and find something big enough to
fit you. Put it on and come back to the window."
	"But-" Dorothy began.
	"Go!" the Prince commanded imperiously. As Dorothy van-
ished, he whirled and seized Fess's wrist. "Come! I saw a picnic
table under those trees. We must drag it under the window."
	"But Your Highness, a table won't be high enough to rescue
her!" Fess panted, trying to pull back.
	"The Unicorn will rescue her, not the table!" snapped the
Prince, jerking him on.
	"The Unicorn's going to rescue her!" squeaked the Flitter-
mouse, spurting out of the Egg-basket and skittering about in high
excitement. Oh, drag the table as fast as you're able, follow the
plan as quick as you can, mind the rules, obey Prince Gules, don't
be bold, just do as you're told, drag it hither, don't stop to dither,
that's the way, but look at it sway, oh will it fall and ruin us all, now
don't forget . . Heavens to Bet-sy, hear how I'm rhyming-all
of this time-" Flitter landed with a small, surprised thud on Fred's
saddle, gulped "-mg," conscientiously and began to wonder what
had come over him.
	The others were too busy to wonder anything. The table
stood against the building now, directly under the window, and
Prince Gules was insisting that the Unicorn leap on top of it.
	"But it's so wobbly!" she protested. "I'll do anything to help
dear Dorothy, but if we both fall. . . !"
	"You won't fall, I'll brace the table," Fred put in unexpectedly.
	He trotted quickly over and leaned against one side of the
table, while the Cowardly Lion, who was beginning to understand
the Prince's plan, braced his massive shoulder against the other
With a light spring the Unicorn bounded to the table-top,
under the Prince's direction, reared and placed both her front
hooves against the wall of the building.
	"Now-bend your head until your horn is against that win-
dowsill," Gules ordered.
	At that moment, Dorothy appeared at the window, wearing
a very stiffly starched white pinafore so much too small for
that its sash came just below her armpits. She appeared both
irritated and breathless, but when she saw Prince Gules's arrange-
ments she clapped her hands delightedly.
	"How awf'ly clever of you! Now if I can just get through
this window . .
	She immediately began to try, while the others watched her
anxiously and Flitter bounced up and down with excitement,
keeping a sharp black-sequin eye out for Nannies meanwhile.
	"Can you manage?" said the Prince.
	"I think so. Oh! This pesky pinafore!" Dorothy puffed. "It's
like wearing a board!"
	"Who's wiggling the table! Stop it!" exclaimed the Unicorn.
	"I can't stop it, I'm terrified," moaned the Cowardly Lion,
who was trembling in every limb as he watched Dorothy's pre-
carious attempt to swing out the window.
	"Shut your eyes," the Prince commanded him.
	"Oh, hurry! I see a Nannie," Fess cried suddenly. "Three
Nannies! And children . . . They're all coming back!"
	"Never mind, I'm-there!" Dorothy gasped. As she spoke, she
completed her perilous scramble from the windowsill. In an in-
stant she had slid down the Unicorn's neck, to a firm seat on its
back.
	"Now!" the Prince sang out triumphantly. "Everybody run!
Head for that far gate yonder!"
	With another of her floating leaps, the Unicorn sprang from
the table to the ground and fled for the gate the Prince had indi-
cated, with Dorothy safe on her back. Fess flung himself on the
Cowardly Lion, who charged after them, and the Prince, though
hampered by the Egg-basket, to which he was still stubbornly
clinging, managed to scramble into the saddle somehow. But as
Fred wheeled to follow the others, a crowd of Nannies and chil-
dren streamed out of the Nursery almost under his nose. Fred
reared, wheeled again, and headed around the building the other
way, with Flitter darting behind.
	"More children, by my halberd! Quick through that patch
of shrubbery!" the Prince panted.
	Nannies and children, having recovered from their fright,
were appearing from everywhere now, more determined than
ever to enforce the Law of Naptime. Within seconds all the trav-
elers found themselves deflected from their straight dash for the
gate, instead being forced to dodge, evade, detour around play-
houses and wading pools and clusters of swings and teeter-tot-
ters, and-in the Cowardly Lion's case-occasionally leap clean
over the heads of groups of children who burst out of the shrub-
bery right in front of him. Separated and unable to keep track
of what was happening to the others, each still kept moving
somehow toward the gate, and finally Dorothy and the Unicorn
dodged one last group of Nannies and dashed through it.
	"At last!" Dorothy gasped. "Thank goodness the woods are
thick. Let's hide."
	Panting and exhausted, they concealed themselves behind a
lemon-drop bush, and very shortly saw the Cowardly Lion, with
his tongue out, his ears flat, and Fess half-buried in his mane,
skim through the gates in one prodigious bound.
	"Here we are! Come hide yourselves, quick!" Dorothy
called softly. "Where are the others?" she went on in an agitated
whisper as the Lion flung himself down beside her and closed
his eyes, muttering, "Nice vacation we're having."
	"Don't know," Fess puffed, collapsing thankfully on the
ground. He stared with respect at the Cowardly Lion. "Whew!
What a ride! Do you always spend most of your time in the air
when you're running?"
	"I do when I'm scared," the Lion panted. "And I'm usually
scared." He opened his eves and looked at Dorothy in alarm.
"Where are the others? You mean the Prince is still missing?
	"And Fred-I mean Federigo-and the Flittermouse! Oh,
what can be keeping them?"
	"I'll go find them," the Cowardly Lion said instantly, strug-
gling to his feet.
	"But my dear Lion, you're much too tired!" the Unicorn
protested.
	"Besides," Dorothy added, giving her cowardly old friend
a hug for being so brave, "They're just bound to come in a minute.
I'm sure Fred can run awf'ly fast."
	"But did he even get started?" Fess said. He, too, stood up,
frowning as he tried in vain to remember catching even a glimpse
of Fred dashing, like the rest of them, about the lawns. "Oh,
why did I leave them! How could I desert them like that? Not
one of them is smart enough to get out of a fix-"
	"I thought the Prince acted mighty smart when he got me
out of that window," Dorothy said.
	"That was a lucky accident, I'm afraid. He'd never be able
to think so fast again. And Fred-and poor little Flitter! Oh,
I've got to go back and find them! Was Flitter even 'with them?"
	"I'm sure he was," said the Unicorn. "He climbed out of
the Egg-basket when you went to fetch the table, and then-"
	"The Egg! Ozma's Egg!" cried Dorothy, starting up. "Oh,
I must go back too!"
	"Hush! Listen!" hissed the Lion.
	As soon as they stopped talking, they could hear rapid hoof-
beats, and a moment later they saw the Steed pounding full tilt
through the woods, his gleaming black legs working like pistons.
The Prince was crouched like a jockey on his back, still clutch-
ing the Egg-basket as well as something fluttery and white, and
the Flittermouse was clinging wildly to Fred's headstrap, with
his gauzy wings streaming straight out behind.
	"Stop them before they run right past us!" Dorothy cried.
	Fess was already plunging through the bushes and out into
the path. At sight of him Fred arched his neck, set all four hooves,
and stopped. The jolt was so severe that the Prince came close to
sailing straight over his head; as he grabbed for balance, the bas-
ket spun out of his arms, and landed, bouncing. The Egg spilled
out, chips from its candy flowers flew, and the gold band came
loose and wobbled away in one direction while the Egg rolled in
another.
	"Oh, I'm extremely sorry!" the Prince gasped. Tumbling out
of the saddle, he ran to pick up the band, while Fess rescued both
Egg and basket. By this time the others had crawled out of the
bushes, and the party was once more reunited. Feeling themselves
still too close to the Nursery for comfort, they pushed on deeper
and deeper into the woods, until they were sure they had put a
safe distance between themselves and the most adventurous Nan-
nie.
	Then, at last, they stopped in a little clearing to catch their
breath and collect themselves. The first thing Prince Gules did
was apologize to Dorothy for dropping the Egg, and promise that
he would try to fit the band back on. The second was to present
her with the fluttering white thing he had been carrying, which
turned out to be her dress. The Flittermouse, he explained, had
spotted it hanging on a clothesline, had flown hurriedly to tell
him, and they had made a detour back through the pursuing Nan-
nies and Children to retrieve it. It was still slightly damp, but
Dorothy was overjoyed to see it, and at once hung it over a branch
to finish drying.
	"I'm ever so much obliged to you!" she told the Prince earn-
estly. "If you'd ever worn a starched pinafore three sizes too small
for you, you'd know how obliged I am! Don't you worry about
Ozma's Egg, I don't think it's damaged much at all-and besides
you've more than made up for it, finding my dress for me, and
figuring out how to rescue me from that playroom! That was sort
of a s'prise," she added thoughtfully. "That it was you who
figured it out, I mean.
	"Those Nannies were a surprise, too," the Cowardly Lion
rumbled, lashing his tail a little at the memory.
	"So was our fall off that fire-escape," Fess sighed.
	"And having to dash through that park," added the Steed,
who was still leaning wearily against a tree.
	The Cowardly Lion yawned and lay down heavily. "Yes, on
the whole I can't say I care much for surprises. And," he added
with a glance at the lengthening shadows all about them, "I think
we've all had plenty of them for today. I vote we camp right here
and try for a nice uneventful night's sleep."
	But there was one more surprise in store for them. A few min-
utes later, when Fred and the Unicorn had wandered off to graze
on the flower-starred moss, Flitter was swooping after gnats, and
Dorothy and Fess were exploring the badly squashed contents of
the lunch basket, Prince Gules settled down under a tree to see if
he could fit the band back on Ozma's Egg. And a moment or two
after that, he gave a sudden, strange, sharp outcry that made
everybody look around in alarm, and caused the Cowardly Lion
to choke violently on a crumb.
	"What's wrong?" Fess cried.
	The Prince was sitting bolt upright, staring with open mouth
at the slightly dented gold band off the Egg. He seemed struck
dumb, but raised one hand and beckoned wordlessly. As the en-
tire party converged on him like pins rushing to a magnet, he
held up the band so that every one could see its inside surface.
There, delicately engraved on the shining metal, were the words
"Herald of Halidom," followed by a small but distinct figure "1".
	"It's a Circlet!" Prince Gules brought out at last, in a voice
grown hoarse with excitement. "I've found one of the Golden
Circlets of Halidom-on an Easter Egg!"

Chapter 14

	The great discovery had come so unexpect-
edly that it was some time before the astonished travelers could
comprehend that one of the lost Circlets of Halidom was act-
ually in their possession, and one portion of the Prince's quest
accomplished.
	"Which Circlet is it?" Dorothy asked.
	"The largest, Circlet One," the Prince told her. "You can
see the number engraved inside it. The kings of Halidom always
 wore it around their crowns-until my great-grandfather
lost it playing quoits."
	"Lost it down a rabbit-hole!" Fess said suddenly.
		"So that's how the bunnies got hold of it!" Dorothy ex-
claimed. "One of them found it, I s'pose, and took it to the cav-
ern as a sort of-of curio, and-"
		"And then that Chief Artist, or whoever he was, used it to
decorate a sugar egg!" said the Cowardly Lion. "Won a contest
with it, too!" he added with a roar of laughter.
		"I fail to see anything funny," Fred said with a glare, "about
the First Golden Circlet of Halidom being used to decorate a
sugar candy trinket."
		"Oh, well, it hasn't hurt it," Fess said pacifically. "Though
I think it's changed it some. Of course, I've never even seen
this one, it was lost such a long time ago, but Circlet Two, the
one that was stolen from the Wyver, was thicker, and smooth
all over."
		"So was this one, in the olden days," the Unicorn put in,
in her gentle voice. "I've seen it, many times-on your dear great-
grandfather's head, Your Highness. It's shocking! They've
beaten it quite flat to fit around that Egg."
	"Flat or not, you will soon see it on my head," announced
the Prince, who had been working to bend the egg-shaped
band back into its original circle. "Furthermore, you will never
See it off my head until I ride back into Pax-on-Argent and
give it to my father. I say-I've thought of something! Every-
one is smart again now, back home in Halidom!"
	"Ooooooh!" squeaked the Flittermouse, dropping from a
branch to perch on the Cowardly Lion's nose in great excitement.
"Is this the one that makes us smart?
	"That's right!" Fess exclaimed. "Why, Your Highness, you
began being clever the minute I handed you that basket! Remem-
ber? I shoved it at you when I ran to climb that vine on the Nurs-
ery wall-"
	"And the next thing we knew, you'd thought up that ex-
cellent plan for rescuing the maiden," said the Unicorn. Her
golden eyes rested fondly on Dorothy. "So fortunate," she mur-
mured.
	"And the Flittermouse started thinking up rhymes-whole
lots of them!" Dorothy said.
	"And even I had the common horse-sense to brace the table,"
Fred whinnied triumphantly.
	"And I found Dorothy's dress," added the Flittermouse in
a rather tentative voice. "That was pretty smart, too-wasn't it?"
he asked the Cowardly Lion, turning to peer into his eyes, which
were only about five inches away.
	"Yes indeed! It showed the greatest perspicacity!" the Lion
declared, looking cross-eyed in an effort to focus on him, and
trying not to sneeze.
	Flitter stared at him, enthralled. "Per-scacity. Verscatity.
Verse-picacity," he whispered, his black-sequin eyes round with
awe. Suddenly squeaking "I'm smart! I'm smart!" he hurled him-
self joyously into the air and performed a whole aerial ballet of
silent skitterings, swoopings, side-slips, roll-overs, nose-dives, and
soaring spirals, until he looked like one more flitting blue shadow
among those now fast stealing through the trees. Dorothy, watch-
ing him, thought she had never seen anything so enchanting.
	Fess had already observed that night was almost upon them,
and as the others went on discussing the new quick-wittedness
of the Halidomians, he roamed about gathering twigs, dry leaves,
and fallen branches, and piling them into a heap in the center of
the clearing. As he produced his tinder-box and began to strike
sparks into the mass, he reflected with some amusement that
though he had only the same old ordinary wits he was born with,
he was still the only one of the party who ever thought of prac-
tical things, such as building a fire before it was too dark to find
the wood.
	Once the flames sprang up, the others roused themselves. Fred
and the Unicorn returned to their mossy dinner, and the rest
gathered cozily around the fire to finish the mashed jelly sand-
wiches. The Prince had by this time managed to squeeze the
Circlet back into shape, and pressed it down firmly on his blue-
black hair, where it glinted impressively in the firelight.
	"I'm just disgusted," Dorothy remarked as she studied it, "To
think how we lugged that Egg around all day hunting for the
Circlet-and if we'd only looked, it was right before our eyes!"
	"Right before our eyes," Fess repeated in a puzzled tone.
"Now why does that sound familiar? Right before our-"
	"The Oracle!" the Flittermouse squeaked, landing suddenly
on his shoulder. "That's what the Oracle verses said, Fess dear.
Something about 'right before your eyes.'"
	"So it did!" Dorothy said. "Let's take another look at those
verses!"
	Fess was already diving into various pockets, and in a mo-
ment produced the crumpled but still legible sheet from the
Register-book. Holding it so that the firelight fell on it, he read
it out:

"Circlet One, in strange disguise,
Will lie unseen before your eyes.
Flight and chance will set in free;
Despoil the gift to royalty.

	"Well! It certainly makes plenty of sense now, doesn't it?"
he finished.
	"But we didn't really spoil Ozma's present, did we Dorothy
dear?" the Flittermouse asked in a worried voice.
	"Oh, no," Dorothy assured the little creature. "It works
as well as ever, and the Wizard can put on another band. 'Despoil'
means something different, Flitter."
	"I rather feel I should apologize to that Oracle," the Prince
admitted. "Never again will I think a Crystal Ball is silly! Do
you know, if that verse makes sense, the others must, too. Read
them, Fess. Perhaps now that I'm a bit more intelligent, I can
understand them."
	"Me, too," Flitter said proudly.
	"Well, they don't seem much clearer to me," Fess said, but
he read them aloud.
"Circlet Two, of purest gold,
Was carried off by a villain bold.
Problems will your path encumber;
Trust in the humblest of your number.

Circlet Three, a tiny thing,
Is in the hands of a future king.
Go by night, return by day,
The Circlet find in a roundabout way."

	There was baffled silence for a moment. Presently Dorothy
sighed and shook her head. "Far as I'm concerned, those two
verses are still nonsense," she confessed.
	"Complete nonsense! In fact, that middle verse merely tells
us what we already know!" the Prince added irritably, forgetting
he was going to be charitable toward Crystal Balls.
	"Except where it says about trusting me," the Flittermouse
said in a small, nervous voice, and began to mumble plaintively
to himself,
"Says I'm humble-
Mustn't grumble.
Says I'm trusty,
So I must be.
Says I'm willin'
To catch the villain.
What is less clear
Is how, Fess-dear?"
	"I wouldn't worry about it tonight," Fess told his little pet
with a smile. "Maybe it'll all be clear tomorrow."
	By this time their scanty meal was finished, and everybody
was beginning to yawn. Dorothy's dress was quite dry now, and
she thankfully put it on, wrapping the discarded pinafore around
the Egg as padding and packing the whole bundle into the basket.
	''Now when morning comes, I'll be all ready to leave here
she explained.
	"Wonder where here is, by the way?" the Cowardly Lion said
uneasily, squinting into the blackness between the trees.
	"Just a thick forest, that's all I know. A mighty thick one,"
Dorothy, too, gazed thoughtfully into the unknown darkness.
"Say, do you s'pose it could be the Great Blue Forest? That's
in the Munchkin Country, all right, and it's enormous on the
maps. If that's where we are, I hope we're right on the edge of
it, 'cause if we aren't, we could get awful lost."
	"Perhaps we're lost now," Prince Gules said with a yawn.
"I must say I don't care. I intend to sleep for hours and hours
and hours without so much as stirring. Tomorrow, I'll consider
the matter of where we are.
	"And I'll write a little song about it," Flitter crooned sleepily.
"Fess dear, where's your cap?"
	Fess hastily placed his cap over a soft patch of moss, and the
Flittermouse disappeared underneath it. One by one the others
arranged themselves comfortably around the fire or under nearby
trees, and before long most of them were fast asleep and dreaming.
	Prince Gules had a wonderful dream. He dreamed he was
riding, victorious, back into Pax-on-Argent. He was wearing all
three Golden Circlets, and Lady Annelet, whom he had some-
how rescued from a dragon, rode beside him on her palfrey, beam-
ing at him and chanting, "Oh, good for you, Gulie! Oh, good
for you, Gulie! Oh, good for you, Gulie!"
	The Unicorn dreamed she was walking in a procession beside
Prince Gules's great-grandfather, simply smothered in daisy chains
and attended by twenty maidens, all of whom were Dorothy.
	The Flittermouse dreamed-in rhyme-that the University of
Halidom was conferring upon him an honorary degree for Smart-
ness and Verse-picacity, and that Fess was applauding proudly
from the front row.
	Dorothy dreamed somebody was trying to convince her there
was, too, such a thing as a Flittermouse, and that she didn't be-
lieve it.
	Three of the party were not dreaming. The Cowardly Lion,
who had planted his massive self on the farthest edge of the clear-
ing, was taking only lion-naps, keeping one yellow eye warily
open in case of danger. Fess (who thought the Lion was fast
asleep) had privately resolved to do the same thing. For a long
time he lay staring into the flames, his chin on his fists and his
mind wandering among the strange scenes of the past two days.
Then, because he was just a little bit homesick, his thoughts
Sneaked away, back to the Crenelated Wall and the last glimpse
he had had of the moonlit castles and mulberry orchards and
azure fields of Halidom. Just as he was anxiously hoping that he
had remembered to tell Barry to break an egg over the kanets'
chopped meat every morning, a twig snapped nearby, startling
him until he recognized the big black shadow that had drifted
up beside him.
	"Oh-it's you, Federigo! Why aren't you asleep?"
	"I have been asleep-dozing, anyway. And thinking," the
Steed added carelessly.
	"Thinking?"
	Fred nodded, tossed back his mane, and contrived to look
elaborately unconcerned about almost anything one could men-
tion. "Nice night, isn't it?" he said brightly.
	"What have you been thinking about, Federigo?" Fess asked
with a smile.
	"Oh, nothing in particular, really. Just about this-well, this
fancy name notion I had for a while. This Federigo. Sounds a
little silly. Not at all the thing. I'd rather you'd just call me Fred,
if it's no particular trouble."
	"It's no trouble at all." Fess got up, threw another branch
on the fire, and walked over to stroke the Steed's gleaming black
neck. "Fred's a very nice name, really. I've always thought so."
	"Well, at any rate, it's good enough for me," Fred mumbled.
"Common-undistinguished-suits me, I expect," he added with
a short whinny of laughter. "I never told you, but one of my
grandfathers was a plow-horse."
	"Nothing wrong with that."
	"No. He was a good plow-horse. Well, g'night."
	"Goodnight," Fess said. Affectionately he watched the Steed
move away into the trees, both glad and just a little bit sorry that
Fred had actually become smart enough not to put on airs, and
hoping it wouldn't change him much. Stretching out again be-
side the fire, he decided to worry about the forest, and getting
lost, in order to keep himself awake. He was still thinking hard
about this problem three minutes later, when he fell asleep.
	Fred was asleep too, head drooping and one hip cocked. He
was dreaming intently. In his dream, Princess Ozma was be-
stowing on him an emerald-studded gold medal-for sheer merit,
valor and character-even though knowing all about his grand-
father and not a thing about his cousin who was a Destrier.

Chapter 15


	THE MORNING mists were still floating
like veils among the trees when the Cowardly Lion rose with
a yawn, shook his heavy mane, and looked about him. The
Unicorn was already browsing on the dew-covered moss a little
distance away, and after telling her that he was off to find him-
self some breakfast, the Lion padded away silently through the
forest. As a matter of fact, he had decided to do some exploring.
Dorothy's remark last night had worried him, and he knew that if
this really were the huge Blue Forest of the Munchkin Country,
there was a good chance they might wander about in it for weeks
before discovering a way out.
	The sun was high before he returned to the clearing, now
more worried than before. He had ranged far in every direction,
without seeing anything but trees, an occasional stream, much
undergrowth, and still more trees.
	"I can't find any squirrels or birds to ask questions of, either,"
he told the others gloomily. "We're lost, all right, and I don't
like it. At this point, I'd even go back to Good Children's Land
-if I knew which way to go. All we can do is follow one of
those streams, and hope it'll lead us out of the forest somehow."
	Dorothy, Fess and the Prince had already breakfasted on
wild plums and blueberries, so without further delay the little
party started off, Prince Gules remarking that the Circlet would
probably make him smart enough to find their way, and Doro-
thy added staunchly that though she'd been lost often, she'd
never stayed lost long.
	"You know, I've been wondering, Prince," she said as they
threaded their way through the forest. "Do you s'pose those
other Circlets could be right under our noses, too, and we just
haven't seen
	"Not unless you or the Lion have them," Prince Gules
answered.
	"Well I don't have a single other metal thing except shoe-
buckles," Dorothy sighed. "And the Cowardly Lion doesn't
even have those. But-I guess it's useless to suspect any of those
silver things on Fred's bridle? Some of 'em are circles."
	Fred politely smothered a horselaugh, and the Prince shook
his head, smiling. "Those silver ornaments were made in Troth,
long after that popinjay carried off Circlet Three. And of Course,
the bridle is my property and in my possession so even if the
robber had contrived to fasten Circlet Two onto it somewhere
Fred and I would still be strong, as would all my father's sub-
jects."
	"You don't seem very weak to me," Dorothy observed.
	"Nor do I feel as weak as I did the first day after Circlet
Two was stolen, but I believe I've just grown used to it. I tried
to pick up Fred's saddle this morning, and I could barely lift
it. By my buckler, I'd hate to try a joust!"
	"Me, too," Fred agreed with feeling. "That dashing about
yesterday nearly did me in."
	"Well, all right, I just thought I'd ask," Dorothy said re-
luctantly. "I s'pose that popinjay couldn't have just flown over
to Troth? And just happened to drop Circlet Three in that
bridle-factory or whatever it is, and-"
	This time it was the Cowardly Lion who had to smother
his laughter-not quite successfully.
	Fess explained that there had been a strong east wind that
evening, according to old timers' accounts, so probably the pop-
injay had been blown right over the Crenelated Wall, and for
all anybody knew, to the other end of Oz. "So we'll just have
to keep on hunting, I'm afraid," he finished. "That is' if this
stream ever leads us out of the forest so we can keep on!
	By noon, however, the stream they had chosen to follow
had done nothing but lead them farther and farther into in-
creasingly thick forest, and finally, to their disgust, it poured
itself into a very deep pool and simply ended.
	"How aggr'vating!" Dorothy said, putting her hands on
her hips and scowling at the pool. "It must go right under-
ground here. I thought rivers and streams were all supposed to
empty into the Nonestic Ocean!"
	"Not that we want to go to the Nonestic Ocean," the Cow-
ardly Lion said moodily.
	"No, but we'd be sure to get out of this forest on the way
there. Why, my goodness, if we spend much more time in this
place, we'll miss the Easter party!"
"And I'll never find the other Circlets!" said the Prince.
"A pox on this following of streams! I propose we strike out
boldly for ourselves. We can't possibly be any more lost than
we are already."
	So, after lingering by the pool long enough for the Cow-
ardly Lion to catch a few fish with his big, swift paw, and Fess
and Dorothy to grill them for lunch over a twig fire, they chose
a direction at random and started off, determined to keep going
in a straight line. This proved terribly difficult; they kept having
to detour around boulders or thickets or ponds, and by mid-
afternoon no longer had any idea whether they were going in
a straight line or in circles It was just at the point when their
spirits were lowest, when Flitter had begun to cry a little and
Dorothy was  trying not to, that Fred, who was plodding in
lead, stopped suddenly and exclaimed, "Look! Here's a road!
	The others crowded up beside him eagerly.
	"Well, anyway, a path," Fess amended.
	"No matter, it's quite visible enough to follow! And it must
lead somewhere," the Prince declared.
	He and Fred started briskly along the little trail. The Cow-
ardly Lion, privately hoping it wouldn't lead merely to some
deserted clearing, trotted after him, with the Unicorn,  Fess
and Flitter following behind. It was certainly easier going than
pushing through the underbrush as they had been doing the
whole day, but the path wound and curved and doubled back
on itself so much that even the Prince soon began to have mis-
givings.
	"In my opinion, we're still just going in circles," he mut-
tered as he tried to see around the next bend. "'Round and
'round and 'round."
	"And up and down, too"' the Cowardly Lion observed,
beginning to pant a little.
	"But aren't the trees beginning to thin out just a little?"
Dorothy said hopefully. "And look! There's a bird, at last!"
	Sure enough, a blue-jay was sitting on a branch near the
path, grooming his wing-feathers and watching them with an
indifferent sapphire eye.
	"Good afternoon," Prince Gules said politely. "Could you
tell us where this road goes, please?"
	The bird studied him a moment, then said, "Oh, round
about," in a casual tone, and went on with its left wing.
	"That's obvious," the Lion growled. "What we want to
know is does it ever get anywhere?"
	The jay glared at him. "I have already answered that ques-
tion!"it said. With an insulted flirt of its tail, it flew away.
	'Already answered!' " Fred repeated in disgust. "All he
said was 'round about.' Roundabout?" he neighed suddenly.
	At the same moment, several of the others chorused, "The
verse! The Oracle!"
	'The Circlet find in a roundabout way!' " the Prince
quoted. "This is certainly a roundabout way," he added bitterly,
as they started again up the winding, meandering, hilly path.
"But I fail to see how that will help us find the Circlet, unless
it's lying somewhere on this road."
	"Oh, dear!" the Unicorn said in dismay. "Surely no one
would leave your dear ancestors' Golden Circlet lying about on
a road! Besides, that's the one that's 'in the hands of a future
king,' isn't it?"
	"That's right," Dorothy sighed. "That pesky Crystal Ball!
I hope it knows what it's talking about!"
	"It did before," the Prince reminded her, tapping Circlet One.
	"So did we-after we'd found the Circlet," Fred puffed
scornfully. He stopped a moment to catch his breath. They were
nearing the top of the slope, and it was growing steeper all the
time. "For my part, I wish the thing had known how to talk
plain Ozzish," he grumbled as he bent his head and started the
tiresome climb again. "I don't hold with this poetry stuff. Or
pictures, either! Remember? The first question we asked it, it
tried to fob us off with a picture of itself, instead of an answer.
Just a picture of a crystal ball! Now why did it do that?"
"It must have had some good reason," said the Prince.
Nobody commented; the others felt too doubtful to agree
and too breathless to discuss it. The Flittermouse alone seemed
to take the Prince's words to heart, repeating "Some good rea-
son," solemnly to itself several times, then murmuring rather
moodily,
"Some good reason,
Not just teasin'.
Told us right,
Just last night.
Kind of taunting,
Pretty daunting.
Won't talk plainly,
Babbles, mainly.
Still insists
That we persist

	Why, there's a Cryst-al Ball!" it finished in
as they reached the top of the hill at last.
	"So there is!" Dorothy gasped.
	They all stood staring in astonishment. Abruptly, at the
crest of the ridge, the forest had ended. Before them lay a bar-
ren circular valley criss-crossed by roads and ringed with hills.
And in the middle of the valley stood something that looked
precisely like a huge blue crystal ball.
	"Could it be a picture of that, the Oracle was showing us?"
Fess breathed.
	"Don't know," the Lion gulped uneasily. "What is it?"
	"A city?" Dorothy guessed.
	"A kind of castle!" Prince Gules exclaimed. He gazed at it
in growing excitement. "I say, it must be what the Oracle meant!
Just look at it!"
	"And just look at that road running 'round and 'round it!"
roared the Cowardly Lion with a shudder.
	"No matter, there must be a bridge!" the Prince said im-
patiently. "I'll wager it's hidden in that space underneath the
dome. And I'll also wager my best buckler that this place has
a king, and that the king has Circlet Three, the rogue!"
	"But the Oracle said 'a future king'," Fess objected.
	"Then perhaps he's a prince! Whatever he is, if he has my
Circlet, I mean to find it! Charge, Fred! Forward for Halidom!"
	"Oh, wait!" Dorothy cried in dismay. "Let's make a plan!
Let's-oh, dear, I 'wish he wouldn't be so impulsive!"
	But the Prince, flourishing his sword, had already plunged
recklessly down the rocky hillside, and Fess, after exchanging
one startled glance with the Lion, gulped "For Halidom!" and
plunged loyally in pursuit. The Cowardly Lion swallowed and
began to tremble. Then, laying his ears flat and roaring "For
the Prince and Fess!" in his most horrendous tones, he bounded
after the Unicorn's flying hooves.
	In another two minutes they were all ranged at the brink
of the glass road, shouting fiercely for the bridge in the name
of King Herald of Halidom, Princess Ozma of Oz, and anybody
else they could think of.
	A few moments later, Robin Brown, who was slouched in
utter boredom on his blue glass throne plaiting and unplaiting
Merry's gilded reins, was startled by the sound of pounding foot-
steps. Next instant the thick glass door was flung shatteringly
open, and a puffing Roundhead-it was Polkadots-dashed in.
	"Visitors, Your Majesty!" he bawled, and had barely time
to leap aside before what seemed a whole menagerie swept in
after him.
	To Robin and Merry in the throne room, their appearance
was electrifying. Robin half-started from his throne, staring
wild-eyed at the biggest lion he had ever seen; Merry's incredu-
lous gaze riveted on the Unicorn.
	"His-His Highness, Gules of H-Halidom," Polkadots an-
nounced, then dashed through one of the doors in search of
Roundelay.
	"And his Steed, and his Royal Emblem," the Prince added
austerely.
	"And his page, Fess of Troth," shouted Fess, as impressive
as he could.
	"And his protector, the Fierce Lion of Oz," growled the
Cowardly Lion, who had decided he might be more impressive
incognito.
	"And me, Dorothy," Dorothy said firmly.
	"And me, and me, and me!" the Flittermouse shrieked in
tremendous excitement.
	"In the name of my father, King Herald the 64th," cried
the Prince, "I demand the instant return of the Third Golden
Circlet of Halidom!"
	Robin swallowed convulsively. "The wh-whatlet of wh-
whatidom?" he faltered.
	"Do not feign ignorance!" the Prince thundered, half-
drawing his sword. "You hold in unlawful possession a Treasure
of my kingdom, and I command you to hand it over! If you
do not instantly obey-"
	"Oh, wait a minute," begged Dorothy, who had been look-
ing more closely at Robin, and with astonishment, at Merry,
who was peeking wide-eyed from behind the throne. "I don't
think he even knows what you're talking about! Besides, you
mustn't bully him, he's not as big as you are!"
	"He is just a little lad, isn't he?" said the Prince, reverting
with relief to his usual mild tones, and studying Robin with
interest. "And what an extraordinary Steed he has! See here,"
he said to Robin, letting his sword slip back into his sheath.
"Are you really king of this funny place?"
	"Not really," Robin said. He drew a long, wavering breath
and began to relax a little, though he kept a vigilant eye on the
Fierce Lion of Oz. "I'm just sort of-of temporary. I'd better
call Roundelay. He-"
	At that moment one of the small doors opened, and Polka-
dots reappeared, followed by Roundelay himself. The Seer had
hurried halfway to the throne when he caught sight of the
Prince. He stopped dead, then tried hastily to sneak back out.
But the Prince had seen him, and was staring in astonishment.
	"Why, it's the peddler!" he cried.

Chapter 16

	THE PRINCE'S exclamation caused Roun-
delay to stop in his tracks, while the rest of the party gazed
surprise first at this newcomer, then at Prince Gules.
		"Do you kno'w this-this-whoever it is?" Dorothy asked
bewilderment.
		"It's Roundelay," said Robin.
		"Roundelay, Sphere-Seer of Roundabout, at your service,
my dear young lady," said that personage, smiling ingratiatingly,
bowing, and rubbing his hands.
	"Don't believe the rogue," Prince Gules retorted, watching
this performance with distaste. "Naturally, he is no acquaintance
of mine-but I've seen him, time and again, in Pax-on-Argent.
Why, I saw him not a week ago, coming out of Sir Greve's house.
I kno'w he's the peddler."
	"You highness is right, quite right," Roundelay said. "Until
recently, all Roundheads were peddlers-even I. But that is
changed now. No more must our homeloving people tramp the
highways and byways of Munchkinland. No more must we
shoulder our heavy packs, bow our weary backs, and trudge-"
	"Get on with it!" growled the Cowardly Lion, who did not
care for oratory.
	"-on our rounds," the Seer said quickly. "We may now re-
main at home in our beloved and beautiful sphere and be ladies
and gentlemen, for now we have a king! And a Royal Symbol!
We have become-"
	"And a National Magic Possession, too!" Polkadots put in
eagerly. "Don't forget the Shining Circle!"
	"Be quiet!" Roundelay snarled. "You may leave! Get out!"
	Polkadots hurried to obey, but the damage was done. Fess
and Dorothy chorused, "What Shining Circle?" and the Prince
cried, "Circlet Three! I knew it!"
	"You mean the Shining Circle is your Circlet?" Robin ex-
claimed.
	"I'm positive of it!" the Prince declared. "And I must have
it back at once! It-"
"Quick - somebody catch that seer" Fess snapped.
	Without even interrupting a yawn, the Cowardly Lion,
happened to be nearest, shot out his right front foot and hooked
a claw into Roundelay's tunic, bringing to an abrupt halt the
Seer's second attempt to sneak away.
	"It is of supreme importance that I restore the Circlet to my
father," the Prince was saying to Robin. "Tell me, who is the
king here, if you are not?"
	"Well, I'm not! But I don't know-"
	"You are! He is!" Roundelay broke in.' "He and no other!
He is Round Robin the First, Ruler of Roundabout and Sov-"
	"Hush," said the Cowardly Lion, squashing the Seer's peaked
cap over his face.
	"I'm not anything of the sort!" Robin said indignantly. "I'm
plain Robin Brown from Cherryburg, Oregon, and I'm a prisoner
here, and
	"A prisoner!" Fess exclaimed.
	Simultaneously, Dorothy cried, "Did you say Oregon? Why
I'm from Kansas!"
	"Kansas! Are you that Dorothy?" Robin gasped.
	At that point everybody began asking so many questions
everybody else that it became quite impossible for a few minutes
to sort out what anybody was saying. Seizing the chance to ask
a burning question of her own, Merry emerged from behind the
throne and hurried over to where Fred and the Unicorn were
standing.
	"Is that your pole?" Merry whispered shyly, fixing wide,
excited eyes on the Unicorn's horn. "Did you used to be a merry-
go-round horse like me, before the Wizard transformed you?"
Fred could not restrain a snort of laughter, and for a dumb-
founded moment the Unicorn's golden eyes opened as wide as
Merry's. But then all three began to explain-Fred, kindly, that
he wasn't really laughing at Merry, and Merry, humbly, that she
didn't really mean to be rude, but she'd never seen a Unicorn
before, and the Unicorn, gently (because this was a fellow fe-
male) that Merry's ignorance was quite understandable, because
there weren't any other Unicorns to see. Meanwhile, Dorothy,
Robin, Fess and the Prince were untangling their various stories
and meeting each other properly, and Robin was being formally
introduced to Flitter and the Cowardly Lion, while the Lion
himself sat thumping his tail, absent-mindedly squashing the strug-
gling Seer, and watching the whole scene with benign interest.
	Presently things were sufficiently straightened out for them
all to turn their attention back to the matter of the Shining Circle.
	"Maybe it is your Circlet," Robin told the Prince. "I'd tell
you in a minute if I knew, but I've never seen either one of them.
Why don't you ask Roundelay? I'll bet he knows all about it,
the old villain!"
	"Villain?" gulped Flitter, bouncing into the air and skittering
around Fess's head. "Is that the Villain, Fess dear? I'm willin' to
fight the Villain-bite the Villain-"
	"No, no-better not bite him, Flitter," Fess said quickly.
"Your part's in a different verse, remember? The one about
Circlet Two. This is about Circlet Three, and the future king,
and roundabout way and all that."
	"Oh, yes," Flitter said, settling down again with relief.
	"Well, I'll fight him, if necessary, or even bite him!" Prince
Gules said as he strode over to the Seer. "Let him up, please, Sir
Lion."
	As the Cowardly Lion obligingly removed his paw, Roundelay
struggled to his feet and backed dizzily away, jerking at his hat.
After numerous furious attempts he succeeded in yanking it off
his eyes, and glared, red-faced and defiant, at the Prince.
	"He does know all about it, I can tell by looking at him!" Gules
exclaimed. "You insolent, bald old Jackanapes, where is my father's
Golden Circlet?"
	"It isn't your father's Golden Circlet! Not any more it isn't!"
shouted the infuriated Seer. "It's Roundabout's Shining Circle.
What's more, we Roundheads have a perfect right to it, because it's
round!"
	"You have no right to it whatsoever! Where is it?" the Prince
demanded.
	"It's in the Round Tower," Robin muttered.
	"Yes, in the Round Tower!" Roundelay's scowl changed to a
spiteful grin as he began to back away. "And perfectly safe, as His
Majesty Round Robin will be glad to tell you. Just try and get it!"
	"I intend to try, and I intend to succeed!" the Prince informed
him. "I'd give a sack of gold pieces to know how you got it, in
the first place!"
	"Oh, would you?" Roundelay hugged himself with both
skinny arms and burst into mocking laughter. "Then ask Sir
Greves!"
	"Sir Greves?" repeated the Prince, momentarily too taken
aback to do more than stare.
	"Yes, Sir Greves! Go home and ask him! Leave now, why
don't you?"
	"I'll never leave without that Circlet!"
	"Then you'll never leave," Roundelay retorted. With another
burst of laughter, he leaped nimbly through the round doorway
and slammed the great glass portal after him.
	"Oh, dear, he's locking it!" Dorothy cried.
	"Let him," the Prince said scornfully. "Once I have that
Circlet on my thumb, my hands will be skillful enough to pick the
lock! Where's the door to this Tower, Robin? We'll break it
down!.''
	"It isn't locked," Robin sighed, pointing toward a small door
set in an alcove. "There's no need to lock it.. Roundelay's right,
I'm afraid. You'll never get the Shining Circle unless he says so."
	"Why not?"
	"Because it's guarded. By the Machine. I'll show you."
	Robin led the way across the room to the alcove and flung open
the small door. The others crowded through after him and found
that they had walked directly into the Round Tower. It was a very
curious room they stood in; Fess decided it was like being in the
bottom of a well. The floor was bare and circular, and the shining
dark walls rose sheer and straight on every side. There was nothing
whatever in the place except a thin spiral staircase, which wound
up the center through empty space to a platform high at the top
of the Tower.
	"Is the Circlet up there?" Dorothy asked Robin as they
stared upward.
	"That's what Roundelay said when he showed me this place,"
Robin told her. "Of course, he called it the Shining Circle. But
whatever it is, it's up there on that platform."
	"Then why can't we just climb up the stairs and get it?" Prince
Gules demanded. As he spoke, he strode toward the stairs, and be-
fore Robin could stop him, placed one foot on the bottom step.
	Instantly a tremendous clamor of alarm bells broke out from
what seemed every direction at once. As the noise shrilled and
screamed and banged and clanged, the cringing travelers saw the
Machine appear like an awakened watchdog on the edge of the
high platform.
	The Machine, which was made of shining steel, was a large,
complicated affair, indeterminate in shape but intimidating in
appearance, and absolutely crammed with pulleys and cogs and
wheels. In fact, it seemed mainly composed of wheels within
wheels, and Fess thought it had a decidedly malevolent sneer. It
lost no time proving it could do more than sneer. Before the Prince
-or anyone else-could possibly have reached the top of the long
spiral of stairs, it had shot out a steel arm holding six interlocking
and furiously spinning wheels and placed them across the platform
like a shield, separating platform and stairs as effectively as a squad
of armed soldiers could have done it.
	Shivering, Dorothy pulled the Prince back. The instant his
foot was off the bottom step, the din of bells died away, the arm
with its spinning wheels drew back, and the Machine disappeared
from view, leaving only the sound of Roundelay's jeering laughter
coming from somewhere outside the Tower.
	"That's why," Robin said simply.
	"And a very good reason, too', said the Cowardly Lion with a
shudder. Every hair on his mane was standing on end, and he shook
it angrily as he padded to the dark glass wall and flattened his nose
against it in an attempt to see where the laughter was coming from
"I wish I'd squashed that beetly little Seer when I had my paws on
him!" he growled.
	"But then we'd never get the Circlet!" Fess pointed out.
	"We're never going to get it anyway, far as I can see," Dorothy
sighed. "Unless..." She looked nervously at the stair. "I weigh the
least of anybody, I s'pect. Maybe if 1 tried it-on my very tippy
toes.
	"Nonsense! I won't hear of it!"  roared the Cowardly Lion, his
mane bushing up uncontrollably again.
	"It wouldn't work, anyhow," Robin told her. "The alarm's
too sensitive. Why, an ordinary blue-bottle fly lighted on that
bottom step this morning, and set off the whole alarm."
	"How about the second step? Or the third or fourth?" the
Prince demanded. He was still glaring up at the platform as if it had
insulted him personally.
	"They're all the same. The least vibration on the stairs, and the
Machine comes out to see what's going on."
	"What if I climbed up the banister?" Fess suggested.
	Robin shook his head, but shrugged and said, "Try it if you
like."
	"Oh, no, don't!" Dorothy begged. "I couldn't stand that
racket again! Come on, let's get out of this awful place, and try to
think of some way to make Roundelay get the Circlet for us."
	Merry and the Unicorn had bolted into the Round Room at the
first sound of the alarms, and were uneasily waiting there when
the others returned. Fred had bolted with them, to his subsequent
intense shame, and was now pretending stern and single-minded
interest in the large door-the thick round glass one.
	"Don't worry about being locked in, Your Highness," he told
the Prince in his most responsible voice "One good kick, and
there'll be nothing of this thing left to lock."
	"You think you can bring yourself to kick this time?" rumbled
the Cowardly Lion, who had not forgotten the Nursery.
	"Don't worry about that either," Fred muttered. "That was in
my stupid days, you know. I realize now that sometimes the best
thing to do with manners and training is to forget them."
	"Well, I've been trained to eat, and I'm having a little trouble
forgetting that at the moment," the Lion confessed. "In fact, I'm
about to forget my manners, too, and ask our little King Robin
here if he happens to be ruler of any cooks."
	"You bet I am!" Robin told him. "Merry, just go down to the
kitchen and tell them to send up a banquet, will you? With plenty
of barley for Fred, and-excuse me, but what does the Unicorn
like to eat?"
	"I don't suppose you'd have any quatrefoils, would you?" said
that creature wistfully. "Or even a few plain fleur-de-lys?"
	"Not unless they're circular," Robin sighed. "Merry. just say
'flowers' and we'll see what they bring. And tell them to turn on
that moon-it's almost dark."
	Without their noticing, afternoon had, indeed, slipped into
dusk, and the light was fading fast. Very shortly, however, a large
moon-like lamp began to glow from the glass dome above their
heads, and was soon filling the room with its soft radiance.
	"Is everything round here.-" Dorothy inquired, blinking curi-
ously at this odd but attractive lighting system.
	"Absolutely everything," Robin said. "Food, houses, furni-
ture! And the people sing rounds and talk in circles-and write
round-robin letters with ball-point pens! I've only been here a day,
and already I'd give most anything just for the sight of a straight
line or a square!"
	"It's a pretty place, though," Fess remarked from the window,
through which he was admiring the view of the shining glass city,
and the moon-lamps blinking on in dome after dome.
	"I know it," Robin admitted. "And the Roundheads are nice
friendly people, too-all except Roundelay. But I'm not a Round-
head, and I don't know how to be a king, and all I want is to get
away!"
	"Of course you do," Dorothy agreed. "That old Roundelay
had no business keeping you here in the first place. You and Merry
just stick with us, and when we escape, you can come too!"
	"The question is," Fess said, "Can any of us escape.?"

Chapter 17

	IT was quite a question Fess had asked. Trying
to answer it kept the travelers busy all the time they were eating the
excellent banquet Robin had provided (the Unicorn got tuberoses
and bachelor buttons, which she found delicious) and long after
the dishes had been cleared away. Fred had relieved their minds
about the locked glass door; but what about the bridge? The
Roundheads had drawn it in as soon as the travelers had crossed
over it that afternoon, and it hadn't been extended since. Robin
considered this, then said,
	"I don't think that'll be a problem. It all depends on our
timing." He explained that in their peddling days the Roundheads
had kept the bridge stretched out across the whirling road most of
the time, because they were constantly going and coming on their
rounds. But from now on they planned to extend it for just one
hour in the early morning, between six and seven o'clock-barely
long enough for the people to go out to the hills and gather enough
prickly pears for their daily ration of Pi. "You remember Pi-that
dessert we had for dinner," Robin added.
	Fess, who had had three pieces, remembered it very well, and
quickly said so. "Do they have it every day:" he asked enviously.
	''Yes-it's their national dish. Well, I thought we might get up
before six o'clock, and get all ready, and then the minute they push
the bridge Out, Fred can kick down the door and we'll all run like
sixty, and storm the gates, and be the very first ones on the bridge.
I'll bet we could bet across before anybody could stop us!
	"I don't want to get across until I have the Circlet." Prince
Gules said firmly.
	"Oh," said Robin, rather dashed. "I sort of forgot about the
Circlet. I suppose you couldn't just buy another Circlet exactly
like it?" he suggested without much hope.
	"There are no others like it" the Prince exclaimed. Then,
realizing that Robin had not yet been told of the magical powers of
the Circlets, he explained that the manual skill, and therefore the
prosperity, of everyone in Halidom depended on this particular
Circlet and no other. Of course, once Robin understood this, he
saw perfectly why the Prince wouldn't leave without it.
	"But I still don't see how we're to get it," he sighed. "And
from what I know of Roundelay, he'll never give it up unless some-
body makes him do it."
	"Ozma could make him do it," Dorothy declared. "If we could
all get out of here, and go straight to the Em'rald City, and get
Ozma to help-"
	"I don't want Ozma to help," the Prince said stubbornly. "I
want to do it all myself!"
	No amount of arguing would move him from this stand, and
finally Dorothy and Fess exchanged a helpless glance and gave it
up, listening with gloomy misgivings to the Prince's plan-which
was to capture Roundelay and make the Roundheads ransom him
with the Circlet-and Fred's plan, which was to toss Roundelay
onto the whirling road and then simply kick the Machine to pieces.
The others grew quite interested in working out the details of these
dashing schemes, but neither Dorothy nor Fess had much faith in
them, and soon moved a little distance away to put their heads
together.
	"The Roundheads couldn't get the Circlet any more than we
can-even if they wanted to ransom that crafty old Roundelay,
which I'll bet they wouldn't," Dorothy muttered.
	"Yes-and how's Fred going to climb up that skinny little stair-
case to get at the Machine to kick it?" Fess added. "The only thing
to do, Dorothy, is for you and the Lion to escape and go to the
Emerald City for help, while the rest of us wait here. I'll try to
keep the Prince from doing anything reckless, but you'd better
hurry."
	"Hurry? I don't even know the way!" Dorothy said in despair.
"Oh, Fess, let's take one more look at that awful staircase and see
if we can think of something else."
	The two of them, and the Flittermouse, who happened to be
napping on Fess's shoulder at the time, went back to the Round
Tower and once more examined the empty room, the twisting
spiral staircase, and the platform high above their heads. In the
light of the real moon, which filtered through the dark blue glass
of the Tower walls, it all looked twice as sinister-and three times
as discouraging-as before.
	"I s'pose that is the Circlet up there?" Dorothy said. "For all
we really know, that Shining Circle is something else altogether."
	Fess shook his head positively. "It's the Circlet, all right.
Roundelay as good as admitted it. I wonder how he ever got hold
of it?"
	"Maybe the popinjay was blown here, in that windstorm,
Dorothy ventured.
	"But Fess dear," Flitter put in sleepily, "it was something to
do with Sir Greves. Remember? He said 'ask Sir Greves.'
	"Yes, he did," Fess said thoughtfully. "How queer! I can't
imagine what he meant."
	"Maybe we should go home and ask Sir Greves?" Flitter sug-
gested in a hopeful voice. "I'm kind of tired of this place, Fess dear,
I don't think I want to stay here very much longer."
	"Well, I don't either," Fess sighed, stroking his little pet with
one finger as they turned to leave. "But I don't see any way out of
it right now. Maybe one of us will have a bright idea by morning."
	There was nothing to do but hope for this, and very soon the
whole party had disposed itself comfortably on the velvet hassocks
or the soft circular rugs in the Round Room. Fred, who preferred
to sleep standing up, posted himself by the great glass door, ready
to kick if necessary, and Merry, who did not sleep at all, wandered
off to the kitchens where she could prowl around and think about
things without disturbing the others.
	Flitter could not get to sleep, possibly because he had napped
too long on Fess's shoulder after dinner. After trying for some
time, he heaved a small sigh, crept out from under Fess's cap and
began swooping rather aimlessly about the room in hope of finding
a gnat or two. The moon-lamp had gone out long ago, but he could
see perfectly well in the dark, and soon noticed that the door of the
Tower was ajar. This made him blink his black-sequin eyes and
skitter away to the throne, on the arm of which he perched for a
few moments, peering at the door and hoping earnestly that he
would not see Something creeping in. No Something appeared,
however, and he soon realized that Fess had merely neglected to
close the door properly when he and Dorothy returned from their
Second inspection of the Tower.
	This made him quite brave again-so brave that he swooped
right over to the door, edged through the narrow opening by bank-
ing acrobatically, and perched on the inside doorknob, feeling
intrepid and verse-picacious and Smart. He felt so Smart, in fact,
that he began wishing there were some problem he could solve for
Fess-dear, or Dorothy, or the Unicorn, or the Prince. Not the
problem of How To Get The Circlet, of course-that was a Large
problem; a People-Sized problem, one might say. What he needed
was just a Small, Unimportant, Oh-By-The-Way, Footnote sort
of problem, suitable for small, unimportant, footnote-ish creatures
like Flittermice.
	"Like watching for Nannies," Flitter explained to himself.
"And noticing Dorothy's dress on the clothesline. And remember-
ing that the Oracle said 'right before your eyes.' That sort of thing.
I remembered about 'ask Sir Greves,' too."
	He considered this last contribution doubtfully; it was Flitter-
mouse-sized, all right, but it didn't seem to be anything anybody
wanted.
	"And even a Small, Unimportant Problem ought to be a prob-
lem somebody wants solved," Flitter told himself severely. He
thought very hard for a moment, and then remembered that
Dorothy, at least, might like to know for sure whether the Shining
Circle was really and truly a Golden Circlet.
	"I could find that out, I think," Flitter confided to himself,
eyeing the lofty platform. "I'll just fly up there and take a peek.
I'll be careful," he promised. "I won't even touch the stair."
	Swooping silently off the doorknob, he began flying around
and around the spirals of the staircase, keeping a good margin of
space between it and his wing-tips. He could not help feeling just
a little timid about passing above the edge of the platform, but after
hovering a moment just below it, and swallowing several times, he
made one swift dart and found himself skittering quite safely about
very top of the Tower, with the alarm-bells still silent. De-
scending a trifle, he peered curiously down at the platform. Just
	of the edge, the Machine crouched, glinting a little in the
moonlight and looking fearfully malevolent, but not doing any-
thing dangerous. Behind the Machine the platform was quite empty
except for a round velvet cushion and quite a bit of dust. In the
center of the cushion lay a golden bracelet.
	Flitter stared at this some moments, waving his wings just
enough to keep aloft, and experiencing a growing sensation that
all was not as it should be. Then it burst upon him what was wrong.
"A bracelet?" he squeaked in a frantic whisper, bouncing
several inches upwards and beginning to flutter distractedly here
and there. "But it shouldn't be a bracelet! It should be a little bitty
thing. "The verse says so! 'Circlet Three, a tiny thing'. Dorothy's
right! This isn't the Circlet, it's only some old Shining Circle. It's
-I'll just go peek inside it. I'll be very careful. ."
	Swooping cautiously down toward the platform, he hung
with quivering wings just over the velvet cushion, ducking his
head until he was almost upside down, in an effort to scan the
inside surface of the bracelet. It was smooth and blank, on the
portion of the curve that he could see. He pivoted slowly in mid-
air, examining the rest of the curve-and suddenly there were
words	engraved in the gold. "Herald of Halidom. 2," they said.
"Two?" Flitter squeaked. He was now utterly bewildered.
"But it's supposed to be Circlet Three. Why does it say Two?"
	The answer came quickly, even to Flitter: "Because it's Circlet
Two."
	"Well!" Flitter gasped. "Well, fancy that!"
	He blinked down in amazement at the shining thing so close
beneath him. It was very close beneath him-so close that his
dangling feet were almost touching it. Quite suddenly, without
thinking the matter over at all, he plummeted the remaining half-
inch, snatched the Circlet off the cushion, and swooped away,
carrying it in his claws.
	"My goodness!" he squeaked. "Oh, my goodness, MY
GOODNESS! I've got the Circlet! I've got the Circlet! I've got
the-Fess, dear! Oh, FE-YUS, DEAR . . ."
	By this time the Flittermouse was simply shrieking, and soon
remembered to fly toward the door, instead of merely here
and there inside the Tower. In another instant he had flung him-
self through the door's narrow opening and was swooping wildly
around and around the Round Room, banging the Circlet against
the travelers' heads, and shrilly commanding them to wake up
and see his Surprise.

Chapter 18

	NEEDLESS to say, one glimpse of the
Surprise had everyone wide awake, and for a while the Round
House simply vibrated with rejoicing. Flitter had never been
so marveled at, and exclaimed over, and praised, and petted, and
congratulated, and thanked, in all his life-nor had he ever
dreamed he would be. He was soon breathless from telling his
story, as well as speechless from being the center of attention,
and finally so worn out from the sheer excitement of everything
that when Prince Gules solemnly promised him a silver collar
engraved "For Distinguished Service To King and Country,"
the little creature was quite overcome, and burst into tears. Fess
understandingly bore him off to take a nap under his cap, then
rejoined the others to discuss the find.
	Everyone was as astonished as Flitter that it was Circlet Two
Roundelay had hidden in the Tower, since they all had been
convinced it was Circlet Three. But as Prince Gules said, when
you stopped to think, it really made more sense this way. "Roun-
delay somehow stole it from the Wyver," the Prince declared
as he slipped the Circlet over his sleeve-a rather soiled and shabby
sleeve by now-and settled it firmly on his upper arm. "I never
did understand how he could have got hold of Circlet Three,
anyway.
	"But the verse-" Dorothy began in a puzzled tone.
	"Yes, it was the verse about Circlet Three that mentioned
Roundabout," the Prince admitted. "That's odd. The Oracle
must have been confused."
	"Oh, not the Oracle!" Fred exclaimed with awful sarcasm.
	"No, because the verse about Circlet Two fits fine," Fess
said. Half-closing his eyes, he recited it from memory:

"Circlet Two, of purest gold,
Was carried off by a villain bold;
	Problems will your path encumber,
Trust in the humblest of your number-
Meaning Flitter! Just as the Unicorn guessed," he added, patting

the Royal Emblem's snowy neck. "Nothing confused about that."
	"Just hoping to confuse U5, more likely," muttered Fred, who
still had no use for Oracles.
	"Well, we'll prob'ly understand later what it meant by men-
tioning 'roundabout way in that third verse," Dorothy said phil-
osophically. "We always do understand what the verses mean-
after we've found a Circlet."
"-and therefore have no need to understand," Fred added
The Cowardly Lion, who loved Fred's heavy-hoofed irony
tactfully turned a grin into a yawn. "Never mind-who wants
to understand 'em? Seems to me we're doing fine on our own.
We've got two of the Circlets now-only one more to go. You
fellows feeling any more muscular, by the way?"
	"I could knock that door down with one hoof!" Fred assured
him.
	"And I'll challenge the whole Roundhead army-swords or
lances!" Prince Gules said recklessly.
	Robin gazed at him with admiration, but said, "I don't think
there is an army."
	"They don't need one. They've got that road," the Cowardly
Lion said with a shudder. "We're not out of this place yet, by a
long way, and I've got a funny idea plenty more of those problems
are going to our path encumber before we are out. I for one am
going to get some more sleep."
	This idea appealed to the others, too, so after agreeing that
they would make a dash for the bridge at six o'clock next morn-
mg, they settled themselves to sleep for the rest of the night.
	At dawn, Merry softly nudged Robin awake, bringing the
news that she had found the doughnut bin in her prowlings about
the kitchen.
	"I don't care for myself," she whispered, "but I know you
Real Creatures get hungry. I found some old maps, too."
	"Maps? In the kitchen?" Robin said, blinking himself awake.
	"No, in another room-a little office place right behind the
kitchen. I think it might be Roundelay's, because there's an old
cap there that looks just like his. Come on, I'll show you."
	Rubbing his nose, which always itched when he first woke
up, Robin tiptoed after the little mare, out of the Round Room
and down a curving flight of steps to the deserted kitchens. Be-
hind them, as Merry had told him, was a small circular chamber
containing a desk littered with papers, a shabby hassock, and a
peaked hat hanging from a hook on the wall. The rest of the
wall space was covered with well-worn maps.
	"I suppose they're maps of Roundelay's rounds, when he was
a peddler," Robin said with a yawn. "There isn't one that shows
how to go to the Emerald City, is there?"
	"No, I looked. I suppose Roundelay never went there. But
there's one that shows how to go from here to Halidom. See?
That blue one over there."
	"So that's Halidom," Robin murmured, walking over to study
the map in fascination. "Why, it looks like half a shield, Merry-
a coat-of-arms kind of shield. And Troth's the other half! 'River
Argent'... oh, don't you 'wish' we could go there, and see a real
tourney, and real knights jousting, and all the banners, and armor
and everything? And did you ever dream we'd know a real
Prince? Don't you think he's just the most princely prince you
could imagine? My, I wish I were just like him."
"I'd rather you were just like you," Merry said solemnly
	Robin smiled and patted her scarlet neck, then started prying
up the thumbtacks that held the map. "Maybe Prince Gules could
use this sometime. I'll take it, just in case. Roundelay owes him
something for stealing his Circlet." Folding the map hastily, he
stuffed it into his pocket. "Come on, let's find that doughnut
bin. It'll soon be six o'clock.
	When they returned to the Round Room with a basket full
of doughnuts, they found the rest of the party awake and eager
to escape. As soon as the doughnuts had disappeared-which was
very soon indeed-Fess saddled Fred for the Prince, Dorothy
made sure the Egg was firmly wedged in its basket, and the four
humans of the party climbed on their accustomed mounts. Fred
took up a good kicking position by the great glass door. The
others ranged themselves behind him, ready to dash. Flitter darted
to the window as lookout and hovered there, his shiny black eyes
fixed on the curve of the spinning road where the bridge would
soon appear.
	A full minute passed, in tense and utter silence.
	"Oh, goodness!" Dorothy burst out. "I wish they'd hurry
and extend that bridge, so we could get this over with!"
	"What are we going to do about the people, Fess dear?"
Flitter said anxiously.
"People?"
	"Yes, Roundheads. The street's full of them. They're all
walking toward the gates with their baskets. Do we just trample
them, or ought we to jump over them?"
	"I can jump over them, I'm good at jumping," Merry con-
fided to the Unicorn.
	"Well, I jumped over a lot of those Good Children, so I
guess I can clear Roundheads too," the Cowardly Lion growled.
"Not that I was planning on it. Did you realize there'd be a lot
of people cluttering up the street?" he asked Robin uneasily.
	"I didn't exactly think about it," Robin confessed, swallow-
ing. "Why don't they hurry with the bridge? We've got to get
out of here before Roundelay shows up, or he-"
	"There!" shrieked the Flittermouse. "There's the bridge;
there's the bridge, there's the bridge! Kick, Fred-"
	His squeaks were obliterated by a perfectly paralyzing crash
which sounded as if somebody had dropped ten dozen milk bottles
and a whole tray of dishes down a flight of concrete steps. Fred
had kicked-with spectacular success. Momentarily stunned, the door-
travelers blinked at the circle of sunlight which had replaced
the blue glass door. Then, as the last slivers of glass tinkled to
rest, they all recovered from the shock at once and hurled them-
selves at the opening. The result was that the Lion and Fred,
who were the most impetuous, wedged themselves in the door-
way like a double cork. The others, unprepared for this sudden
halt, trod on their heels and fell over each other in a tangle. There
was a moment of chaos, but after some struggling, the Lion
squeezed through. He bounded into the street, Fred clattered
after him, and in an instant the others were streaming behind.
	Their progress immediately became that of broken-field run-
ners in a football game. The Roundheads, startled out of their
wits-first by the crash of the breaking door and then by the
eruption through it of all their State Visitors, their Royal Symbol
and their King-simply stood as if rooted in the street, and be-
came so many obstacles for the fleeing travelers to dodge around.
In spite of this, the Cowardly Lion was beginning to believe they
might make it safely to the bridge, when one of the Roundheads
suddenly came to life.
	"Hold on there!" he cried. "Stop, stop! They're escaping!"
he screamed at his fellows.
	"Oh-oh,!" groaned the Lion, flattening his ears. "Hold on,
Dorothy. I may have to fly!"
	The others put on a desperate burst of speed too, and Merry,
for one, was already gaily jumping over Roundheads. But the
Roundheads were now swarming everywhere, shouting, snatch-
ing at bridles, trying to turn the party away from the bridge.
	"Stand back, or you'll get hurt!" yelled Prince Gules, draw-
ing his sword and brandishing it in a whistling arc over a hastily
ducked head. "Start kicking, Fred! Everybody fight!"
	"Try roaring," Dorothy gasped to the Lion.
	"Can't do it unless I'm standing still!" he panted. He managed
a few fierce snarls, however, and snapped savagely at several coat-
tails. The Unicorn lowered her head and ran with her horn leveled
at Roundheads who stepped into her path; Fred kicked at them,
Merry leaped over them, and Flitter did his best by flying into
their faces and beating at them with his wings.
	But there were too many. Despite all their efforts, and though
they were now tantalizingly close to the bridge, the travelers
found themselves obstructed, herded together, and slowed almost
to a standstill. At that moment they saw a figure streak out of
a nearby building and race for the gatehouse. It was Roundelay,
who had evidently been waked from a sound sleep by the clamor,
for he wore a flapping nightshirt.
	"Oh, hurry, hurry," Robin cried. "He'll draw in the bridge."
	The Cowardly Lion, instead of hurrying, stopped dead and
roared as loudly as he could. He was awfully short on breath
but the effect was still impressive, and though the Roundheads
did not run shrieking as the Children and Nannies had done,
they did fall back a little. That little was enough. Fred spotted
a passage through the crowd and dashed for it, with the others
at his heels. In another moment they had covered the remaining
few yards to the open wrought-iron gates. They arrived just
in time to see the bridge begin slowly to rumble backwards into
its sheath beneath the Sphere, and to hear a burst of mocking
laughter from the gatehouse.
	"Too late!" gulped the Lion, planting his feet and coming
to a shivering halt on the ramp leading down to the bridge.
	"Could we jump for it?" Fred panted.
	"No! We'd have to have wings!" exclaimed the Unicorn,
staring at the far end of the bridge. There was already a wide
gap between it and the hill opposite, and it was now backing
gradually across the spinning road.
	"That rogue of a Roundelay!" Prince Gules stormed. "Come
down here, you miserable coward, you thieving scoundrel, you-"
	Suddenly Merry spoke up. "Who cares about the bridge?"
she whinnied cheerfully. "Come on-we'll ride the road! It's no
worse than a merry-go-round, just a little faster, is all."
	The Lion gave a terrified roar, and there was a chorus of
protests from the others, but Merry was already pushing past
them and starting down the ramp, with Robin, rather white-
faced, tugging helplessly at her reins.
	"You won't get dizzy," Merry insisted to the other animals.
"Arch your neck and bound-that's the trick of riding a merry-
go-round. Come on, I'll show you!"
	With that she trotted right onto the retracting bridge, and
when she reached its end, leaped without hesitation onto the road
below.

Chapter 19

	GREAT j-jumping gyrons!" Fess gulped.
For one horrified instant, the others stared, transfixed, at the
end of the bridge where Merry had disappeared. Then, as she
came into view below it, bounding gaily, and apparently safely,
along the whirling road, Fred seized his bit in his teeth. "If she
can to it, I can," he muttered, and charged out onto the bridge.
	There was not much left of the bridge by now; in another
moment it would disappear entirely beneath the Sphere, and the
great iron gates would clang shut. Moreover, the Roundheads,
who had dropped their pursuit the instant the bridge began to
move, were now realizing their prisoners were not trapped after
all, and surged forward again just as Fred, too, leaped down onto
the road.
	"Oh, well," the Cowardly Lion groaned resignedly to the
Unicorn, "who wants to stay in one piece all his life? Come on,
Uni old girl, let's go!"
	One bound took him to the end of the bridge; another onto
the road. Dorothy, with her eyes shut, her teeth set, her arms
clamped around the Egg-basket and her fists full of mane, felt
for a few wild moments as if she were being tossed in a blanket.
Then the motion steadied to a rhythmic leaping marred only by
the Lion's convulsive trembling. Cautiously she opened her eyes,
peered around in dawning amusement, and suddenly began to
giggle.
	"Is something funny?" the Lion snarled through his teeth.
He sounded so outraged that Dorothy refrained from answer-
ing, but privately she thought it was very funny to see the whole
party circling 'round and 'round the Sphere-city like an animated
merry-go-round, with even the Lion desperately arching his neck
and bounding in proper merry-go-round style. The little wooden
mare, of course, looked quite gay and natural, but it was obvious
that Fred's sense of dignity was suffering as much as the Lion's,
and the Unicorn wore the affronted expression of a duchess being
forced to dance a jig. However, they were all bounding very well,
and Dorothy, who was frankly beginning to enjoy herself, had to
stifle another fit of giggles as she decided that any of them could
get a job on a merry-go-round tomorrow.
	She was almost sorry when, after several spirited circuits of;
the city, Merry spotted a good level strip of ground at the base
of the hillside and leaped nimbly off the road. It was high time;
Roundelay had started the bridge extending again, and the frus-
trated Roundheads were jumping up and down in their impati-
ence to cross it and cut off their quarry's escape. Fred, the Lion and
the Unicorn hastily followed Merry's example, and, thankfully
resuming their own gaits, took off the hills without a backward
glance.
	They did not stop until they were safe beyond the barren
lands surrounding Roundabout. Then, having no desire to be
trapped again in the Blue Forest, Prince Gules ordered a halt be-
side a sparkling little stream.
	"Whew!" Fess puffed, sliding thankfully off the Unicorn and
collapsing onto the grass. Is that what merry-go-rounds are like?
If so, I don't think I'd ever get really fond of riding them-not
if I had anything else to do."
	"Well, they're not quite that fast, usually," Merry explained.
	"Not anywhere near that fast!" Robin declared. "Don't you
have any merry-go-rounds in Halidom?"
	"There aren't any in Oz at all, as far as I know," Dorothy
told him.
	"Then let's not get any," Flitter suggested earnestly as he
struggled out of Fess's collar. The little creature was looking
rather damp and crumpled, and had to fan his wings up and down
a while in the sunshine before they would work properly.
	"Well, anyway, we're out of Roundabout, and we've got
another Circlet, even if we did have to ride a merry-go-round to
do it," Fred said with satisfaction. "The question is, what next?"
	He glanced automatically at Prince Gules as he asked the
question, and so did the others. The Prince himself had climbed
to a little knoll to look thoughtfully in all directions; he now
walked back toward them.
	"I'm not certain. I want to think about it. Loosen his cinch,
Fess, we'll rest for a little while."
	Fess hastened to make Fred comfortable, easing the cinch and
unsnapping his bit as well. Then he plucked a handful of leaves
and rubbed the dust of the barren hills off both him and the Uni-
corn. Since neither of them had cared much for their doughnut
breakfast, they soon strolled off to graze, and Flitter darted away
in search of gnats. The others, after drinking gratefully of the
cold, clear water of the little brook, were content to lounge on
the grass in the early morning sunlight, compare notes on their
wild merry-go-round ride, and leave it to the Prince to decide
on their next move.
	Prince Gules was by this time accepted by everyone as the
leader of the expedition. With two of the Circlets in his possession,
he had become both strong and wise-a real Prince, Dorothy
reflected approvingly, worthy of his kingdom.
	Now, as a real Prince should, he had begun to worry about
that kingdom. He could not forget Roundelay's curious refer-

cnce to Sir Greves yesterday, and the more he thought about it
the more uneasy he became. He was sure Roundelay was the
thief who had stolen Circlet Two from the Wyver. The old
peddler had been in Pax-on-Argent at just the right time; the
Prince himself had seen him on the day before the theft was dis-
covered-seen him coming out of Sir Greves's house! Then Sir
Greves must have had something to do with the crime-but what?
Try as he would, Prince Gules could not picture the mild-man-
nered, chubby little knight doing anything more criminal than
fibbing his way out of a tourney with Sir Gauntlet. But the fact
remained that Roundelay had said, "Ask Sir Greves."
	Puzzling about this, Prince Gules became more and more pre-
occupied, until Robin, who was bursting to ask him questions
about jousting and knighthood and castles, hit on a way to draw
him back into the conversation. Producing from his pocket the
map he had taken off Roundelay's office wall early that morning,
he offered it rather shyly to the Prince.
	"A map! Where did you find it?" the Prince said in surprise
	Robin explained, adding apologetically, "It only shows the
route between Roundabout and Halidom, so I suppose it's no good
for finding that other Circlet. But I thought it might come in
handy sometime."
	"It might come in handy this moment!" Gules exclaimed. He
studied the map eagerly, then announced, "This settles it." With
a courteous glance at Dorothy and the Lion, Robin and Merry,
he added, "It settles nothing for you, of course. But my com-
panions and I will start for Halidom at once."
	"For Halidom?" the others chorused, and Dorothy added,
"You mean you're going to give up trying to find the other Cir-
clet?"
	"Of course not!" Prince Gules said proudly. "But I must post-
pone it until I find out what's happening at home." He explained
his suspicions about Sir Greves, adding, "For all I know, he might
have seized my father's throne, or done some other treacherous
thing while I've been away.
	Fess said, "He did act funny that morning. Why, when I told
him the Circlet was gone, he fainted! And he sneaked out of the
Throne Room later, as if-But it's awfully hard to imagine that
nice little man doing anything wicked!"
	"I know it," the Prince admitted. "But wicked people don't
always look wicked. And if he helped Roundelay steal that Cir-
clet, he's a traitor! I must deal with him first, then I can set out
again to find the other Circlet."
	"Well," the Cowardly Lion said uncertainly, "We're sup-
posed to be heading for the Emerald City, so I guess..."
	"Oh!" exclaimed the Unicorn in a pained voice, trotting anx-
iously up to them. "Isn't Dorothy going with us?"
	"Is it very far?" Dorothy asked the Prince. By this time she
was terribly curious to see Halidom, and could hardly bear the
thought of not hearing how the mystery of Sir Greves came out.
	"If we leave now, we could be in Pax-on-Argent by tea-time,"
Prince Gules said temptingly. He showed them Roundelay's map,
which traced a plain and direct route from Roundabout to Hal-
idom, avoiding the Blue Forest and coming nowhere near Good
Children's Land, Sign-Here, or any other territory they had
passed through on their circuitous wanderings. "You see? By this
route it isn't far at all."
	"Then let's go too!" Dorothy begged the Cowardly Lion
"We don't know the way to the Emerald City anyhow, so we
might as well go to Halidom instead!"
	The Cowardly Lion blinked a little at this reasoning, but he
had grown as fond of the Halidomians as Dorothy, and he affably
agreed. "If the Prince's father won't mind his bringing a ferocious
lioncel into the country," he added with a chuckle.
	"A lioncel and a little gel," Flitter chanted happily from Fess's
shoulder. "Why, he'll just love having you, won't he, Your
Highness? And can Robin and Merry come too, please?"
	"Of course! They're on their way to the Emerald City with
us," Dorothy said firmly.
	The Cowardly Lion gave another rumble of laughter, but
Robin and Merry were overjoyed. From what Robin had heard
about life in Halidom, it sounded exactly like life in King Arthur's
court, only much more fun, and he had 3,487 questions he
wanted to ask about it. As for Fess and Flitter, they were over-
joyed just to be going home, and even the Unicorn's golden
eyes brightened at the thought of her own comfortable private
garden, and the prospect of crisp quatrefoils for dinner. As for
the Prince, he was so anxious about his parents and his kingdom
that he barely waited for Fess to tighten Fred's girth before he
was in the saddle and on his way.
	Thanks to the map, it was a pleasant and uneventful journey.
Fred set a good pace, for he was strong and tireless now. Behind
him, the Cowardly Lion swung into the long, easy stride he could
keep up by the hour when he wanted to cover distance. Merry,
capering along beside the Unicorn, brought up the rear of the
procession, and Robin began at once on his list of questions. Fess
and Flitter and the Unicorn did their best to answer every one.
	At lunchtime, they stopped briefly to quench their thirst at
a little spring and gather a few wild peachplums to nibble on the
way. An hour or two later, Dorothy and Robin changed mounts
just for fun, since Dorothy had not ridden a merry-go-round horse
since she left Kansas, and Robin had never ridden a lion at all.
They changed back again about an hour after that, when they
stopped at a crossroads for a few minutes' rest while the Prince
studied the map.
	"We should be near now," he said anxiously, frowning at the
sun, which was dropping low in the western sky. "Oh, I do want
to get there before nightfall! Let's go on, it can't be far."
	He vaulted back into the saddle and led the way down the left
fork of the road, which looked far less traveled than the other
and made Dorothy hope Roundelay's map was reliable. How-
ever, only three hills and a patch of woodland later, Fess and all
the other homesick Halidomians broke into a cheer as they
emerged from the trees and sighted the Crenelated Wall ahead.
	As Prince Gules had predicted, it was just at tea-time-the
loveliest of all hours in Halidom, when the first blue shadows
were lengthening over the fields of azure, gathering among the
sloping mulberry orchards, and reaching out to stain a turret here
and a crumbling tower there-that the little procession rode down
the cobbled High Road into Pax-on-Argent.
	It was a triumphal entry. The Halidomians were well aware
that their Prince had found two Circlets, for they had recovered
their wits and strength as soon as he had, and their first glimpse
of him brought them flocking into the streets to cheer with all
their might. Wildly excited children took turns pelting the com-
pany with flowers and dashing about the gardens in search of
more; agile boys scrambled up trees to gape at Merry and the
Lioncel. Girls and women hung out of every window, waving
handkerchiefs and calling a joyful welcome.
	The Prince had immediately pulled Fred to a stately walk,
and his eyes shone with pride as he nodded this way and that,
acknowledging the people's greetings, but he moved steadily on-
ward to the castle. As he led the way at last through the courtyard
gates, Barry erupted joyously from the kitchen door and rushed
toward them, yelling over his shoulder for Bodkin and Scutcheon,
and trying to bow to the Prince and clap Fess on the back all at
the same time. Soon the courtyard was alive with people and
swarming with barking, ecstatic Questing dogs, all thirty of whom
insisted on licking Fess personally. Fred was led away by the two
grooms to be rubbed down and pampered and deferred to in the
stables, and the Unicorn headed at once for her favorite bed of
quatrefoils. The others finally managed to make their way into
the castle, where they were greeted with tea, crumpets, martlet
pudding, and cries of joy-as well as a few happy tears-by King
Herald and Queen Farthingale.
	What with the many introductions to be performed, wel-
comes to be extended, and adventures to be described at least
briefly, it was not until the tea-things had been cleared away that
Gules was able to explain to his father the fears that had brought
him home before the last Circlet was found, and tell him his grave
suspicions about Sir Greves.
	"Sir Greves, eh? Fancy that! Well, he hasn't seized the crown
yet, that l know of," said King Herald, reaching up to make sure
it was still safely on his head. "Nor the throne either. Couldn't
you know. I've been sitting on it. Fact is, I don't think I've seen
the fellow since you left."
	"Neither have I, not once," declared the Queen.
	"Well, if he hasn't run away, you'll see him shortly, because
I sent Pellets for him," the Prince informed them grimly. "I'm
going to confront him with this second Circlet, and see what
has to say."
	However, when the chubby little knight was hauled into the
throne room five minutes later, he had nothing at all to say. He
took one look at the Prince, standing stern and straight on the
steps of the throne with Circlet Two gleaming on his arm, and
burst into floods of tears.
	"So you do know something about this matter," Prince Gules
said.
	"Oh, yes. Yes, I do. I d-do," wept the little knight.
	"That's a disgrace," Gules told him. "An absolute disgrace!"
Seating himself on his own throne, he glanced at his father, who
nodded. The Prince leaned back, folded his hands across his slim
middle, and said coldly, "You'll have to tell me everything, you
know. You may begin at once.
	It was some moments, however, before Sir Greves could man-
age to control his sobs, mop his mild blue eyes, and declare in
a voice of heartfelt relief that he was quite ready to confess.
	"You don't know how miserable I've been!" he said tremu-
lously. "Just simply miserable. I'll be glad to get it off my chest."
	"Very well, begin," the Prince said inflexibly.
	Fess ventured to fetch a stool for the little knight-though
after a glance at the Prince's frowning face, he made sure it was
a hard one-and the others eagerly drew up their chairs and pre-
pared to listen.

Chapter 20

	WELL," said Sir Greves sadly, "it all
begins with my character. I was born of a great and noble family,
as Your Highness knows, and was intended from babyhood to
be a knight like my forebears, but my true nature-" he heaved
a guilty sigh  "is that of a homebody. I confess it freely. I love
to sit on my front porch and rock. I love to eat apples and read.
I love to work in my beds of fleur-de~lys and trefoils and roses.
Most of all I love to cook! Yes, it's true, I will conceal nothing
from Your Highness. Cookery is my true talent, and my secret
passion." Sir Greves rolled his round blue eyes mournfully. "Nat-
urally, I had to keep it secret. Why, most knights wouldn't be
caught dead in a kitchen. And if I'd been caught alive in one-
and actually enjoying it-well, I'd have been disgraced forever,
and so would all my brothers and cousins and uncles and ances-
tors. So I had to sneak around-cook in the middle of the night.
I ended by firing most of the servants, so they wouldn't find out.
Oh, I didn't fire them all at once-somebody would have started
wondering why, you know! I just fired them one by one. I was
very clever about it. Oh, I've been learning stealthy ways for
years!"
	Sir Greves sighed, blew his nose, and went on brokenly, "Take
my recipes. I've been collecting recipes for years, in the most
underhanded ways. By now, I venture to say my collection rivals
any woman's in the kingdom, if it doesn't surpass them all. I
have every one of the 539 best recipes in Halidom, as well as
seventy-four from Troth-and that includes the Blue-Armor-
Plate Special that Queen Paty always makes for King Armo on
his birthday. I've even invented fifty-two of my own. One is
a new way to make martlet pudding using cinnamon instead of
salt. It's lovely." The little knight sniffed, and his eyes refilled.
"I know how to use marshmallows to sweeten rose-applesauce,
too- and how to take rings off tables with quatrefoil bulbs soaked
in vinegar.
	"Why, that's my method!" cried Queen Farthingale, sitting
up with a start. "My own private and exclusive method! I've told
nobody in all the world except my butler and Lady Mace!"
	"But Lady Mace told her butler, too," Sir Greves explained
apologetically. "And he told the upstairs maid, and the maid
told her nephew, who happens to be my page-and the page told
me. I sent my formula for armor-polish in return-via the same
grapevine. The formula using mulberry seeds and sand."
	"Oh," said the Queen, blinking. "Well, it's very good," she
added honestly.
	"I got it from the Duchess of Bezanty," Sir Greves confessed.
"I've swapped household hints with all the good housewives of
the kingdom-and the ladies never knew I was doing it. My spies
are everywhere-in all the best kitchens and<pantries of Halidom.
Why, I've even smuggled in recipes from other countries of Oz-
countries far outside the Crenelated Wall!"
	"Now how on earth did you do that?" King Herald said
in astonishment.
	"Organization," Sir Greves said simply. "Plus a dreadful talent
I have discovered in myself for accomplishing things by devious
and roundabout methods."
	The Prince, whose stern expression had begun to relax some-
what as he listened, scowled again at the word "roundabout,"
and Sir Greves blushed dismally arid hurried on.
	"Well-anyway, you can see why I have always evaded my
duty in the matter of jousting with Sir Gauntlet. I simply hate
to fight! I'm scared to fight! Fighting is not in my nature, any
more than it is in any housewife's. I know I should uphold the
honor of my family's traditions, but I just can't do it!"
	"Get on to the Circlet part," Prince Gules said curtly. He
was beginning to feel sorry for Sir Greves, and he didn't want to.
	"I am on to it," the fat little knight sighed. "It's all mixed up
with these other things-cooking, and spies, and being scared to
joust, and the family honor, and my conscience. Especially my
conscience. All these things led up to it, but my final downfall
came about through the peddler, Roundelay. I presume you've-
met Roundelay by now?" Sir Greves faltered, glancing at the
Prince. "Er-yes. I thought you might have. Well, I have long
been acquainted with this-this man. I began by buying biscuit cut-
ters from him, and soon discovered he was quite willing to smuggle
recipes in and out of Halidom for me. He was ideal for my pur-
pose, because he was always traveling, and could pass through
the Crenelated Wall whenever he pleased. I didn't realize that
I was ideal for his purpose too. I didn't even know he had a pur-
pose," Sir Greves said gloomily.
	"Well, one day-months ago, it was-when Roundelay
brought me my regular supply of doughnut-holes and a couple
of smuggled recipes, he brought me something else, too. It was
a piece of Pi." Sir Greves paused, clasped his chubby hands, and
closed his eyes in a manner more eloquent than words. "Oh, Your
Highness! If you had ever tasted Pi-"
	"I have," said the Prince.
	The knight's eyes flew open. "Oh. Yes, of course, in Round-
about, I presume. Well?" he threw out both arms dramatically.
"I appeal to you-to your palate-to your every taste-bud! Isn't
it simply scrumptious?"
	"Yes," the Prince admitted.
	"Never had I tasted such delectability! I was completely
bowled over by it. I lost my heart to it! In fact, I lost my head
over it. From that moment, my life was ruled by one obsession-
to obtain the recipe for Pi. Naturally, since Pi is the Ro
national dish, the recipe is secret. And no matter how I begged
Roundelay would not reveal it. However, he often sold me a
Pi or two, and in the privacy of my kitchen I have frequently
worked far, far into the night, trying to figure out the ingredients
and their proportions, by experimenting and tasting. As Your
Highness can see, I have grown quite fat from my long and de-
voted research on this problem-my armor doesn't even fit me
very well any more. But it was all to no avail. I could not discover
the secret of the recipe.
	"Meanwhile, Roundelay and I had become old cronies. He
had never told on me, not once, about my cooking, and I trusted
him completely. Besides, he was the only living soul I could talk
to about the subjects nearest to my heart. Recipes. Seasonings.
Pi. I didn't know he was a scoundrel!" Sir Greves sniffed broken-
heartedly, then bravely controlled himself and went on.
	"And so, last Tuesday, I confided my other problem to him
I told him I was a failure-as a knight and an upholder of family
tradition. I confessed that I was afraid to fight Sir Gauntlet-as
well as a good deal too fat, now. I told him the whole awful
story. It made me feel a whole lot better. And it must have be he
lust the chance the scoundrel was waiting for! He told me he
had in his pack that minute a potion that would make any man
brave and unconquerable-and that he would give it to me, in
exchange for a small favor. The favor was . . . well, It was to
help him get into the King's castle some night, for just five
minutes."
	"And you agreed?" Prince Gules cried, leaping to his feet.
	"Oh, no, no, no, no, Your Highness mustn't think that of
me!" babbled Sir Greves. "I refused! Oh, I refused staunchly
and indignantly! I informed him that courage, invincibility, even
the restored honor of my family was too low a price to offer for
my integrity!"
	"Oh. So what happened then?" said the Prince sitting down
again.
	"He raised the price," the knight said piteously. "He told me
he'd throw in the recipe for Pi. And I-I capitulated."
	There was a grieved silence in the Throne Room for a mo-
ment. Finally the little knight fetched an enormous sigh, and
gloomily took up the story again.
	"I simply could not resist. Besides, I told myself-quite truth-
fully, you must admit-that there was nothing valuable left in
the castle anyhow, except the last Golden Circlet, and that was
guarded day and night by the Wyver. I didn't see how Roundelay
could do any harm in just five minutes. I didn't even suppose
he wanted to. I thought being only a peddler, you know, he'd
probably never been inside a castle in his life, and just wanted
to take a quick look around. It even touched me, rather. I have
a very kind heart. Well-I let him in. I had my key to the Knights'
Chess-and-Checker Room, of course. And what did he use his
five minutes for? To drug the Wyver and s-steal the C-Circlet!"
	Sir Greves choked up, and for a few moments was busy
wiping his eyes and blowing his reddened nose.
	Fess said thoughtfully, "No wonder you fainted next morn-
ing, when I told you the news.
	"Oh, it was dreadful! Dreadful! To wake up on a nice sun-
shiny morning, with the Tourney all arranged at last, and the
family honor about to be vindicated, and my blue rosebush just
coming into bloom-and find out I was a traitor!" Sir Greves
burst into a fresh flood of tears. "And I'll tell you the bitterest
blow of all!" he sobbed. "That potion never. did me a bit of
good! I drank it, all right, but with the Circlet gone, there couldn't
be any Tourney anyhow. Neither Sir Gauntlet nor I could so
much as lift a lance!"
	"Oh, I say, old fellow, don't cry so hard," King Herald said
uncomfortably. Even the floor around Sir Greve's stool had be-
come quite damp, and his collar was simply soaked. "Now that
the Circlet's found, maybe you can fight your Tourney bravely
after all. Or has the potion worn off?"
	"I don't know, and I'm too miserable to care," replied the
knight. Stumbling to his feet, he flung out both arms toward
the Prince. "I've been miserable ever since the Circlet was taken,
and I'll go right on being miserable until I'm punished! I insist
that I be exiled immediately to the Sandbar Sinister-without so
much as a f-frying pan to comfort me-and left there for the rest
of my natural life!"
	"You have certainly behaved very badly," the Prince agreed
in as forbidding a voice as he could summon. "As for your
punishment, I will have to think the matter over. Pellets, take
him into some other room to wait."
	After the door had closed behind Sir Greves, the entire com-
pany sat in gloomy silence for some moments. The fact was, they
were all terribly sorry for Sir Greves, in spite of the trouble he
had caused-and finally Dorothy ventured to say so.
	"After all, it's not his fault he likes to cook," she pointed
out. "If people had just let him do it openly, without making
him think it was something disgraceful, he'd never had begun
all that sneaking around and smuggling. Maybe he'd never even
have got acquainted with Roundelay!"
	"It's not his fault he's a coward, either," said the Cowardly
Lion moodily. He cast an embarrassed glance at the Prince. "I
suppose he shouldn't have sidestepped that joust, but I can't help
sympathizing-family tradition or no family tradition."
	"Well, that family tradition is just silly!" Dorothy said.
	"Oh, my dear, I think so too!" exclaimed Queen Farthingale,
leaning toward her confidentially. "Of course1 I never liked to
say so-but really! For a couple of good friends like him and Sir
Gauntlet to go rushing at each other with lances when they aren't
even annoyed-!"
	"By Jove! It does seem a bit nit-witted, eh? When you put
it like that," exclaimed King Herald, much struck.
	"Yes-but he should have put a stop to the tradition," said
the Prince. "Instead, he kept avoiding the jousts and then feeling
guilty about it-and look what a mess that got him into! What's
more, he's committed treason against his king and country,
whether k was exactly his fault or not. And treason's a bad crime,
and it must be punished, and our laws say it must be punished
with exile. I can't see any way out of doing just what he asked,
and sending him to the Sandbar Sinister."
	"Oh, poor Sir Greves!" Flitter burst out.

"He now perceives
The webs he weaves
When he deceives!
Oh, poor Sir Greves!
He's now bereft
With nothing left
But guilt for theft!
Oh, poor Sir... Greft!"

He finished distractedly. "Oh, what a mess! Isn't it, Fess?"
	"Yes," sighed Fess, causing the Cowardly Lion to look at
them both in some alarm, and hope the rhyming habit wasn't
catching.
	"It's an awful mess!" the Prince said crossly. "Because I feel
sorry for him too, and I don't want to exile him. And that makes
me feel sorry for myself!"
	"I even feel sorry for the Roundheads," Robin said.
	He had spoken in his usual quiet voice, and had more or less
assumed he was talking to himself, since people seldom heard
him unless he shouted. Therefore he turned a little pink when
everybody stared at him.
	"You feel sorry for the Roundheads?" Prince Gules repeated.
"But they were the true thieves!"
	"No, they weren't-Roundelay was!" Robin said stubbornly.
"Roundelay's the only sly one in the whole bunch. The others
are ever so nice and jolly, and not a bit wicked, are they Merry?
And they were so happy, and now everything's ruined for them,
and they'll have to go back to being peddlers again. All they
ever wanted was to stay home like other folks, and have some-
thing grand to be proud of. That's what they need most of all,
l think. A nice, grand king to be proud of."
	"And a new National Magic Possession?" Dorothy added
doubtfully.
	"Roundelay was the only one who cared a pin about that!"
Robin declared. "They need a new National Occupation a lot
worse. They can't sell their wheels and balls and things any more,
you see, because everybody's old ones are still good. Seems to
me they've got to find something else to sell."
	"That makes a lot of sense," Dorothy said thoughtfully.
	"It does, doesn't it?" exclaimed King Herald. "Boy's got a
head on his shoulders, eh, Gulie?"
	"Yes, well. . ." Prince Gules sighed and waved a hand. "Very
well, I feel sorry for the Roundheads too. But I can't solve every-
body's problems, Papa. I still have plenty of my own. Sir Greves
must be sent to the Sandbar Sinister, because I don't know what
else to do with him. He can't be a knight after this, and he
wouldn't be happy in Pax-on-Argent now anyhow. As for the
last Circlet, I shall start on another Quest for it tomorrow morn-
mg, and I shall search until I find it. If I don't, the people will
never recover their skills, and Halidom will be no more pros-
perous than Roundabout."
	There was a short silence while everybody glumly contem-
plated the prospect of another Quest.
	"Well, you don't need to start until tomorrow night, Prince
dear," Flitter squeaked comfortingly. "You know-'go by night
and return by day.'"
	"That pesky Oracle again!" Fess groaned.
	Prince Gules smiled crookedly and propped his chin on his
hand. "I'd just managed to forget it. I suppose I should try once
more to figure out the verse that's left. Somebody read it to me."
	Flitter, Dorothy, Fess and the Cowardly Lion all recited it
wearily:

"Circlet Three, a tiny thing,
Is in the hands of a future king.
Go by night, return by day,
The Circlet find in a roundabout way."

	"Oh, is that one of the Oracle's verses?" inquired King Herald
in an interested tone. "But what does it mean, Gulie?"
	"If we only knew!" retorted the Prince.
	"Well, my dear boy!" exclaimed Queen Farthingale. "Flit-
ter's quite right! That one line obviously means that you should
start the journey at night and come home by day!"
	"Or else it just means we've already done that," the Prince
pointed out. "When we first left here, you know, we went
secretly, at night. And we came back by daylight, today."
	"It's always telling us to do something we've already done,"
the Cowardly Lion grumbled.
	"And everything it tells us might mean something else!"
Dorothy added in exasperation. "'Roundabout way'! We were
sure that meant the roundabout road through the forest. Then
we were sure it meant the city of Roundabout! Now we know
it didn't mean either one, because it was Circlet Two we found
in the Tower, not Circlet Three."
	"I'~ getting awfully confused," murmured the Queen faintly.
	"You'll get more and more so, the better you know this
Oracle," Fess assured her. "Take that 'future king', for instance.
How is anybody going to identify a king when he's not a king
yet?"
	"Oh, I say! I say!" King Herald burst out. "Gulie is a future
king!"
	"But Papa, the Circlet isn't in my hands!" the Prince said
patiently. "It can't mean me."
	Robin giggled suddenly. "Maybe it means me. I'm a past
king now, but I was a future king for a while there, I suppose.
It would have taken an Oracle to know it, too, because I cer-
tainly didn't look like one!"
	The others smiled, and Dorothy opened her mouth to say
something, then instead turned slowly and studied Robin. "When
did they crown you king of Roundabout?" she asked in a thought-
ful voice.
	"Well-just yesterday morning, wasn't it, Merry?" Robin
answered in surprise. So much had happened since then that it
seemed at least a month ago.
	"Yesterday morning," the Prince repeated. He, too, straight-
ened to peer speculatively at Robin. "And we found the Oracle
the day before that. So you were still a future king then .
	"But-but I don't have the Circlet!" Robin stammered. They
were all peering at him so intently that his ears began to feel
quite hot. "Where would I carry anything like that?" he pro-
tested, pointing to the Circlets on the Prince's head and arm.
	"Circlet Three isn't like that," said the Prince. "The verse
is right, it's tiny-just big enough to fit around my thumb."
"It's a finger ring.." Fess explained.
	Robin's eyes gradually widened. He thrust his hand into his
pocket, felt around a moment, then said uncertainly, "I do have
a little ring. But it's not gold, it's only brass."
	He extracted his hand from his pocket and held out the brass
ring from the merry-go-round. The Prince leaped to his feet,
seized it, looked inside, then threw up both arms and gave a shout
of joy.
	At the same instant, there was a blinding flash, and a puff
of opalescent smoke filled the throne room. As it drifted away,
the startled company saw the loveliest little fairy princess in all
Oz standing before them, smiling.
	"So-you have found the last Circlet, Prince Gules," she said.
"May I congratulate you?"

Chapter 21

	Ozma!" chorused Dorothy and the Cow-
ardly Lion. Both dashed forward to greet her, Dorothy with a
hug and the Lion with a flurry of tail-lashing and lion-sized purrs.
"Wherever did you come from?" Dorothy added in astonishment.
"From the Emerald City, of course," Ozma said with a mis-
chievous laugh. "You didn't think I could bear to miss all the
excitement, did you? Oh, please, introduce me to your new
friends."
	King Herald and Queen Farthingale were already hurrying
forward to welcome their distinguished guest, and for a few min-
utes even the Circlets were forgotten, while the Ruler of all Oz
met everybody in the throne room, including Flitter.
	"And Fred! Where is Fred, and that delightful Unicorn?"
Ozma demanded. "I haven't seen her in ever so long!"
	"Do you know the Unicorn?" Dorothy exclaimed.
	"Well, I knew her a long time ago," Ozma said calmly.
"We were both with the Fairy Lurline then. I wonder if she'd
remember me?"
	"I'll go fetch her," gasped Fess, closing his mouth, which
had fallen open in astonishment at the idea that anyone as fresh
and beautiful as Ozma could be even a day older than he was
himself.
	Robin and Merry, standing unobtrusively in a corner, too
shy and awed to move, could scarcely believe Ozma was real.
Neither of them had ever seen a fairy before, much less a fairy
princess wearing a crown carved of one great clear emerald, a
gown that looked as if it were made of spun emeralds (which it
was), and a curious broad belt flashing with jewels-a fairy prin-
cess with two scarlet poppies twined in her flowing, shining black
hair to frame her vivid little face-with sparkling, great dark eyes,
and a bewitching smile. She was simply overwhelming.
	"I don't suppose she is real, really," Robin whispered in a
daze.
	And Merry, thinking of Real Horses and Real Other Crea-
tures, and of what Robin had said about her being real too, but
not a real horse-and then looking again at Ozma, who was per-
haps real but not really real-shook her wooden mane and gave
it up. "I just don't understand about 'real'," she said simply.
	"I don't understand how she knew where we were," Robin
said, "but I suppose fairies know everything."
	Dorothy, who overheard him, turned with a laugh. "No, they
don't-but Ozma has some pretty good magic to help her. I'm
pretty sure I know how she knew where we were-she looked
in the Magic Picture."
	"She did? What's that?" Robin asked.
	"Well, it's just an ordinary-looking little picture that hangs
in her bedroom at the palace, but whenever you stand in front
of it and make a wish to see somebody, or some special place, the
Picture changes and shows it to you. It's come in mighty handy
lots of times."
	"I should think it would have," said Robin dazedly. "But
then-that puff of smoke-did the Picture bring her here, too?"
	"No, the Magic Belt, probably-that belt she's wearing. Don't
worry, we'll get her to explain everything, after Fess comes
back."
	Fess brought Fred and the Unicorn right into the throne
room. The Steed was so impressed and excited at being presented
to the Ruler of all Oz that he scarcely knew what he was doing,
and managed to knock over two footstools, and then stand for
some moments with his tail in a bowl of flowers and one hoof
solidly on Queen Farthingale's train, until Fess moved him and
released her. As for the Unicorn, she was as dainty and calm as
ever, but her golden eyes shone with pleasure at seeing Ozma
again.
	"I remember you perfectly, of course!" she said in her gentle
voice. "You made the best daisy-chains of any fairy in Lurline's
band-and made them for me oftener, too. So kind! You don't
look a day older, my dear."
	"Neither do you," Ozma assured her.
	And then, because it was growing late and there was still
much to be explained and settled, the little fairy seated herself
in the worn but still splendid chair of the First King Herald of
Halidom, which the present King Herald had hastily ordered
dusted and brought down out of the castle attic for her. The
others settled themselves around her, eager to hear why she had
come and what she had to say.
	"Well," said Ozma, smiling at Dorothy. "Late this afternoon I
began to think that it was high time you and the Cowardly Lion
were getting home for the party. Do you realize Easter is to-
morrow?"
	"My goodness! Dorothy exclaimed. "Well, the truth is, we've
been so busy hunting for the Circlets-"
	"Besides, we got lost," the Cowardly Lion rumbled defen-
sively.
	"I rather thought you might have." Ozma gave him a mis-
chievous glance. "I also suspected you might be having numerous
adventures and quite a good time, so I just took a peep into my
Magic Picture to see. And there you were, marching into Pax-
on-Argent with my old friend the Unicorn and all sorts of other
interesting-looking companions, with crowds cheering you and
children throwing flowers! Well-I'd intended to transport you
home when I found you, but I really couldn't bear to spoil all
that, so I just kept watching you instead-and I got the Wizard
to bring his magic radio so that I could hear you, too."
	Ever since, she went on to explain, she had been following
events in Pax-on-Argent; she had seen the travelers' joyful wel-
come at the castle, had heard the story of their adventures as they
talked to King Herald and Queen Farthingale, and had listened
not only to Sir Greves's confession but also to the discussion
about him later.
	"And then, when you found the last Circlet-in Robin's
pocket, of all places! -I simply couldn't stay away any longer,"
Ozma declared. "Besides," she added with a warm smile at Prince
Gules, "I decided it was time I took a hand. You've done enough
-and done it bravely and well, without needing or wanting my
help." The Prince colored a bit at this, and started to say some-
thing, but Ozma shook her head. "No, I don't blame you a bit.
You had every right to go on your own Quest, and recover your
own country's treasure. But now you can relax."
	"But the Roundheads-"
	"Leave them to me. I am Ruler of Oz, and they are my re-
sponsibility."
	"All right," Prince Gules said with relief. He added wryly,
"I wish Sir Greves were your responsibility. I don't know what
to do with him. I'll be glad to make you a present of him!"
	"I accept!" Ozma said promptly. She laughed at his expres-
sion, then confessed she was hoping he would say just that. "Be-
cause I know exactly what to do with him. I'll send him to be
king of Roundabout."
	"What?" chorused everybody.
	With another laugh, Ozma explained. Listening through the
magic radio to Sir Greves's confession, she, like the others, had
felt sorry for him, and realized he would be of even less use on
the Sandbar Sinister than he had been in Halidom, as well as
more unhappy.
	"So I began wondering where and how he could be useful.
Then Robin said what he did about the Roundheads, and sud-
denly I knew. You were quite right about the Roundheads,"
Ozma told Robin with a decisive little nod. "They need some-
thing new to sell. Well, I think they should sell Pi!"
	"Of course!" Robin shouted, forgetting his shyness in his
enthusiasm. "Why, it's just the thing! They can turn all those
factories into bakeries, and they'll never run out of customers
for Pi, or have a hard time selling it!"
	"And Sir Greves, who is a true chef at heart, and good at
organizing, will be perfectly content and useful in Roundabout,"
Ozma finished.
	The others were as delighted as Robin with the plan, which
seemed to them all a perfect solution to both problems.
	"Why didn't we think of it ourselves?" Prince Gules ex-
claimed.
	"You almost did," Ozma admitted. "Just a few more minutes,
and you would have, I'm quite sure of it. That's why I hurried!"
she added solemnly, causing the Cowardly Lion to chuckle.
	"So you could get your fingers in the Pi?" he rumbled.
	After the groans and giggles had subsided, Ozma said that
she meant to transport Roundelay to the Emerald City the day
after Easter, and scold him severely for the mischief he had caused,
after which she thought he could be trusted to be a good Sphere-
Seer and a real help to the new King Greves in organizing the
baking industry. As for the National Magic Possession he wanted
so badly, she would advise him to place the recipe for Pi in the
Tower for the Machine to guard.
	"After all, a possession that can switch a whole nation from
peddling to prosperity overnight is magic enough for anybody!"
she declared.
	"That's true," Prince Gules observed thoughtfully. "Hali-
dom's Golden Circlets can't do more than that."
	"And what d'you know, Merry!" Robin said with a laugh.
"That silly prophecy has been fulfilled!" The others had not
heard Roundabout's prophecy, so he repeated it for them." 'The
ring will bring the king'-that's Sir Greves, you see, not me at
all; and the 'ring' isn't my brass ring, but the stolen Circlet. 'The
king will bring the Thing'-that's the new baking industry, not
Merry! 'Everything round, the treasure's found . . .'" Robin
paused and blinked. "Why, they were even saying that wrong
-no wonder they didn't understand it! It never did mean that
everything was round! It means 'everything will be found around
the treasure'-and the treasure is that recipe! Don't you bet that's
it?"
	It certainly did seem that every sign pointed toward Sir Greves
as Roundabout's rightful king. Prince Gules sent for the little
knight at once, and told him the surprising fate in store for him.
Sir Greves was overjoyed, immediately burst into fresh tears-
of gratitude, this time-and sobbed earnestly that he would do
anything, everything, anybody wished him to.
	"Then go at once to Sir Gauntlet and make peace forever
between your two families," Ozma said with some severity.
"Feuds are stupid and silly, and this one should have ended long
ago. In a few days, I will transport you to Roundabout-with
all your skillets and spices-to take up your new life."
	Weeping his joyful thanks, Sir Greves hurried away; at the
same moment, Barry hurried in to inform Queen Farthingale
that supper was almost ready. Beaming with satisfaction at the
fine way everything was turning out, the Queen begged her
visitors to stay and sample roast Halidom goose and flaunch-
pasties, mulberry tartlet and Argent cream.
	Everyone accepted with pleasure, and while they waited for
Barry to scurry back to the banquet hall and lay the extra places,
King Herald cleared his throat, rose to his feet, and announced
that he wished to perform two acts of great importance, and now
was as good a time as any.
	"The first is to release young Fess here from his-er-page
hood," said the King. "He has proved himself over and over
during this Quest, and taken mighty good care of Gulie, too.
I'm supposed to promote you to be a squire next, Fess my boy,
but the fact is, you've been Gulie's squire all through this journey.
whether anybody called you that or not. So I'm just going to
free you from my service altogether, eh? Time you went home
to your own country and became a Knight of Troth. Yes.
Hrrrrmph! And before you go-here, just step a little closer,
eh?"
	As Fess, coloring to the ears with pleasure and surprise, did
so, King Herald drew his sword and dubbed him Sir Fess, Knight
of Halidom, on the spot. Then, hospitably inviting him to come
back often to Pax-on-Argent for a weekend or a joust, now that
he knew the way, he kissed the new knight on both cheeks,
slapped him on the back, and sat down, beaming. After the others
had crowded around Fess to offer their own congratulations, the
King arose and cleared his throat again.
	"The second thing I want to do," he announced, "is abdicate,
in favor of my son. You've proved yourself, too, Gulie. You're
ready to be king." He thought deeply a moment, then added,
"Matter of fact, you already are king, I think. I've scarcely done
a lick of ruling all afternoon. Felt good, too. Relaxing, eh? Never
was quite smart enough to be a king, anyway. Circlet gone, you
know. Not too brainy even now that it's back, come to think
of it. Anyhow, I'm quite ready to hand my shoes over to you
and let you step into my crown. Er-that is-yes. Well. So there
you are, Gulie. Marry your pretty little Lady Annelet and get
on with being Herald the 65th, eh? We'll have the wedding
and coronation tomorrow, but you can start being king right
now, if you don't mind."
	"Whatever you say, Papa," Prince Gules said, squaring his
shoulders and trying-unsuccessfully restrain a flush of pride.
	"Speech! Speech!" roared the Cowardly Lion.
	"I have no speech to make, except to thank everybody who
helped me in my Quest," the Prince said, smiling. "You all de-
serve medals. But I think Flitter would rather have his silver
collar-and the Unicorn a daisy chain. I'll make one for her my-
self tomorrow. Fess has already been rewarded. As for Fred, he
should be promoted, and my first act as king will be to see to
that, right now. Let me borrow your sword a minute, Papa."
	Striding over to the startled Steed, Prince Gules touched him
three times on the shoulder with the flat of the sword. "I hereby
dub you Charger," he announced. Then he paused, gazed for
a moment with silent affection and real gratitude into his old
friend's excited eyes, and said, "No, wait a minute-I've changed
my mind." Down came the sword again on the shiny black
shoulder. "I bestow upon you the rank of Destrier!" cried the
Prince in a ringing voice. 'And the official name of Frederick
the Great!"
	There was a gasp of delight from everyone in the room, fol-
lowed by a rousing cheer, and Fess, almost overcome with the
joy of Fred's new grandeur on top of his own, flung his arms
around the Destrier's neck.
	Frederick the Great alone was speechless. For a moment Fess
wondered if he were unconscious-possibly from the shock. He
simply stood, staring with glazed eyes at the Prince, apparently
not noticing that Fess was hanging on his neck.
	"Sheer merit, valor and character," he whispered after a
moment. "Sheer merit-valor-and character. A Destrier. Fred-
erick the Great. Oh, if my grandfather could see me now!"
	"You deserve it, Fred, but you'd better say thank you, hadn't
you?" Fess murmured.
	"Thank you," Fred said, swallowing. He seemed to come
to himself, and slowly arched his neck. "Thank you," he said
in a voice that sounded hollow and impressive, like an echo.
"Thank you, Your Highne-Your Majesty. I will endeavor to
be worthy of my-your trust."
	Head high, ears strained to needle points, tail flowing in an
almost impossibly strenuous curve, he floated out of the room
and back to the stables to his waiting oats, with his eyes fixed
on glory and not one hoof touching the common ground.
	Then the Unicorn-who, being Unique, could be elevated
no higher-bade Ozma and Dorothy a fond farewell, and retired
to her garden, and the others went in to supper.
	It was not only the first real banquet Robin had ever attended
in a real castle, it was also the jolliest party he had ever attended
anywhere. It was, in fact, only the second party he had ever
been invited to in all his life-the first having been a Christmas
party long ago at the Cherryburg Community Center, where he
had sat solemnly on a wooden chair listening to a lady in an
extraordinary hat sing Christmas carols, then stood solemnly in
a long line to receive one orange and one candy cane, and after-
wards gone solemnly back to the orphanage in a bus. It wasn't at
all like this.
	"Oh, my!" he whispered to Merry, who stood close beside
his chair watching the fun, "don't you wish we could always
be with Dorothy and the Prince and the Cowardly Lion and
Flitter and Fess and everybody? I hate to think it's almost over."
	"Is it almost over?" Merry asked wistfully.
	"Oh, yes. Ozma and Dorothy and the Cowardly Lion have
to go home to the Emerald City, you know, and Fess has to go
home to Troth, and the Halidom people are home, so we'll have
to leave, too.
	"But where'll we go?" Merry said.
	"Well, I don't know, but we can't just stay around being
extra. It's not polite. Maybe Dorothy'll remember to ask Princess
Ozma to send us back to Oregon. That's our home-I guess."
	"I don't have a home. All I ever had was a merry-go round."
	Robin sighed, reflecting that he'd never had a home either,
unless you counted the orphanage and places like the McGudgeys'
house, which he felt sure wasn't the same thing at all. "Well,
everybody can't have one, Merry," he explained. "Anyhow, Ore-
gon's where we live, so . . Oh, let's think about it later! Look!
They're bringing another kind of cake!"
	It was Queen Farthingale's famous rose-applesauce cake, and
it was so good that everybody-except Merry-had two slices, with
another glass of pear-and-teazle punch. But finally not even the
Lion could hold another bite of anything, and since the moon was
already halfway up the sky, Ozma rose at last and announced re-
gretfully that she and Dorothy and the Lion must say goodbye, if
they were to be in the Emerald City in time for the Easter Egg
Hunt next day. At the mention of Easter, Dorothy remembered	him.
the Bunny's present, and ran to fetch the Great Egg. Ozma was
delighted with it, and assured the Prince that the Wizard could
easily repair the damage to the sugar flowers, and replace the Cir-
clet with an ordinary gold band.
	"Just leave it in the basket, it'll be easy to carry that way," she
advised Dorothy. "And now say your goodbyes, for we must go.
	"How are we going? "rumbled the Cowardly Lion with sud-
den suspicion, then groaned when Ozma grinned at him and
touched her Magic Belt.
	"Well, we just don't have time to walk," Dorothy told him.
"Anyway, we won't land in a bramble patch this time, will we,
Ozma?"
	"No, I'll transport us right to the palace grounds," Ozma
promised.
	"Well-I hate to leave," Dorothy sighed, smiling around at all
her friends. Suddenly her eye fell on Robin and Merry, who were
standing together in the background, looking rather left out and
shy. "Why, we must do something about them!" Dorothy cried.
"Can we take them with us, Ozma?"
	"Do they want to be taken?" Ozma asked with a smile.
	The others quickly explained to her that Robin and Merry had
been on their way to the Emerald City all along, to ask her help.
	"You see," Robin added reluctantly, "I was going to ask you
to send me back to Oregon-and to transform Merry into a Real
Horse and send her with me."
	"Why, I'll be happy to do both those things," Ozma assured
him.
	"Oh," Robin said hollowly. He had been hoping, in secret,
that the whole thing would prove to be impossible even for Ozma,
and they would have to stay in Oz. He swallowed, and he and the
little mare glanced at each other with long faces. "Well, thank you
very much," he sighed.
	Ozma studied them a moment, then went up to Robin and took
both his hands. "Tell me truthfully," she said. "Don't you want to
go?"
	"No," said Robin, very truthfully indeed.
	"Neither do I," Merry said. Her lower lip was beginning to
tremble and her great brown eyes filled with tears. "I never did
want to go! And now I don't even want to be a Real Horse, either.
They have to eat, and rest, and keep warm, and all sorts of incon-
venient things, and I think it's more fun to just be me."
	"It's much more interesting, too," Dorothy agreed.
	"But what about your family, Robin?" Ozma said. " Wouldn't
they miss you?"
	"I don't have one, and the McGudgeys'd never miss me.
scarcely ever remembered I was there, anyway," Robin said
frankly. I don't think I was the sort of boy they liked."
	"Well, you're exactly the sort of boy I like!" Ozma declared.
"And you may both come and live in my palace forever if you
want to."
	"In your palace?" Robin breathed.
	"If we want to?" Merry gulped.
	"Oh, wheee!" Dorothy cried, clapping her hands and jumping
up and down because she simply couldn't help it. "Oh, you'll just
love the Scarecrow, and Betsy, and the Hungry Tiger, and-"
	"And me," put in the Lion jealously. "Remember, I knew you
first."
	"I take it you accept the invitation?" Ozma added.
	"Oh, yes," gasped Robin. And Merry said, "Oh, yes! Oh, yes!
Oh, yes!"
	"Then stand close to Dorothy and the Lion, and off we go!"
	"Goodbye, Prince Gules!" cried Dorothy. "Goodbye, Sir
Fess! Goodbye, Flitter! Goodbye, everybody-give my Jove to
Frederick the Great-"
	"Please come to visit me in Troth, Robin and Merry!" Fess
begged.
	"And me in Halidom!" added the Prince. "Goodbye!"
	"Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye, everybody-dear!" squeaked
Flitter, waving both his wings. "Oh-dear!"
	Smiling, Princess Ozma had clasped both hands to her Magic
Belt.
	An instant later, Robin was standing on a moonlit lawn, with a
sky full of stars above him, and straight ahead of him the twinkling
lights of the most beautiful palace he had ever even imagined-and
at his side, the Cowardly Lion was growling,
	"Welcome home!"
 The End