In the Castle of Morrow
The Wizard of Oz knew the geography of Ozma's wonderful land by heart
and he remembered the Kingdom of Morrow perfectly. He felt a bit
jealous that the Scarecrow was about to solve the mystery without his
help and so he popped a small wishing pill into his mouth and began
speaking rapidly in magic.
Now magic is a language which I do not profess to understand, but the
results of the Wizard's speech were instantaneous and astonishing. So
swiftly that the hair of the three little girls was nearly jerked from
their heads, so swiftly that Sir Hokus lost his sword and Ozma her
crown, they were all hurled through the air and dashed down in a very
short time on the steps of an ancient and gloomy castle.
Its once splendid garden was choked up with weeds. Vines had run up and
over the entire structure, covering even the windows and chimneys with
a waving curtain of green. Owls hooted dismally from the towers and
the scurry and scamper of frightened feet told that many little forest
animals had made themselves at home within.
"Mercy," gasped Betsy Bobbin, examining anxiously a long scratch on her
knee, "how did we get here?"
"Where are we?" inquired Sir Hokus, blinking very fast from his seat
upon a stone lion, where he had landed a little too suddenly and
emphatically for complete comfort.
"We are in Morrow," replied the Wizard, rising from the last step
of the castle and dusting off his green trousers. "In Morrow, by my
express wish and Dr. Nikidik's wishing pills."
"Well, you might have told us we were coming," said Trot a bit crossly,
beginning to look around for her side comb.
"Morrow!" murmured Ozma, walking dreamily up the castle steps. "Why
I've been here before, dozens and dozens of times."
"Got another pill, Wizard?" asked Scraps grimly.
"Ahem! No, I don't believe I have," coughed the little man nervously.
"Why?"
"I wanna go home," shuddered the Patch Work Girl, looking fearfully at
the dismal forest surrounding the castle and a flock of black birds
circling ominously overhead. "I wanna go home!"
"You should think before you wish, old fellow," gulped the Scarecrow
weakly. "Betsy, my dear, will you give me a shake. All of my straw has
fallen into my left boot. And where's Tik Tok, pray?"
"I thought he'd better stay home," replied the Wizard, looking around
uneasily. Now that they were really in Morrow, he began to doubt the
wisdom of his quick wish. Why had he not thought to bring his magic bag
or another wishing pill in case of danger?
"A rare and imposing old edifice!" observed Sir Hokus, dismounting
stiffly from the stone lion, and looking up curiously at the castle.
"Well, now that we are here, we might as well look around," puffed the
Scarecrow, more cheerful since Betsy had shaken him up and smoothed out
his stuffing. "Come along!"
Ozma was already standing before the dull golden doors, the only
portion of the castle not overgrown with vines. Stepping up behind her,
Sir Hokus lifted the huge knocker and let it fall with a great clank
against the tarnished metal.
"What ho, within!" roared the good Knight lustily. But only a hollow
echo and the derisive hoot of an owl came shivering out to them.
"What makes you think it is a Ho?" chattered Scraps nervously.
"I wish you'd never wished us here.
This castle's full of spooks, I fear!"
finished the Patch Work Girl, shaking her finger reproachfully at the
Wizard.
"Fear nothing," boomed Sir Hokus grandly, "I will protect you." Putting
his mailed shoulder to the doors, he pressed with all his might. The
bolts had evidently not been drawn and when the three little girls and
the Wizard added their strength to his, the doors flew open so suddenly
they all tumbled through together. Three jack rabbits and a tiny fawn
leaped through a broken window pane as the doors crashed open and
several bats, shaken from their hold on the beamed ceiling by the jar,
began to circle round and round, screeching dismally. The hall had once
been furnished with great splendor and magnificence, but now everything
was covered with cobwebs, dust and decay. The dim green light filtering
in through the vine covered windows made everything seem more ghastly
still.
"I wanna go home!" whispered Scraps plaintively.
"Oh!" wailed Betsy Bobbin, hiding her face in the Scarecrow's coat, "I
don't like this."
"Shoo!" coughed the Scarecrow, stamping his foot at a flock of mice
that came scurrying across the floor and whirling his hat about his
head to keep off the bats. "Shoo, I tell you!"
"What do you s'pose anyone wanted us to come here for?" groaned Trot,
clinging nervously to Scraps.
"Well, there must be some reason," answered Ozma thoughtfully. "I seem
to remember this castle." Disregarding the grime and dust, the lovely
little Queen walked slowly across the hall and sat down on a golden
chest beside the long table. Sir Hokus, finding nothing better to fight
than mice and bats, began briskly to clear the room of the pests, while
Trot, Betsy and the Patch Work Girl tiptoed here and there talking in
tense whispers, for in the silence of the deserted castle their words
echoed and re-echoed unpleasantly. Having assured themselves that there
was nothing of interest in the great hall, Sir Hokus, the Wizard and
the Scarecrow went bravely off to examine the rest of the castle.
"I wish they'd come back," whispered Trot, after they'd been gone about
five minutes. "Oooh, what's that?"
"The wind," quavered Betsy doubtfully.
"I don't believe it," shuddered Scraps, tripping over the fire irons
and sprawling upon the hearth. "It's a spook. I wanna go home! Just
look at me!" Betsy and Trot giggled nervously, for Scraps, covered with
grime and soot from her fall, was enough to make anyone laugh.
"Never mind," comforted Ozma, "I'll have you dry cleaned when we get
back home, but now I'm trying to think, so please do be quiet."
Quiet! Scarcely was the word out of her mouth, before there was such
a shivering slam overhead that all three girls jumped with terror and
Scraps, for greater security leaped clear onto the table, touching as
she did so a hidden spring in the top. At this there was a blinding
flash and while Ozma, Betsy and Trot clung desperately together and
Scraps gave another jump that carried her clear to the chandelier, the
center of the table rose up before their eyes, disclosing a long silver
casket.
"Don't touch it!" warned the Patch Work Girl, swinging dizzily 'round
and 'round.
"A goblin, a goblin will jump out and bite us,
There's a giant upstairs and he's coming to smite us!"
Someone certainly was coming down the stairs. Scarcely daring to look,
they waited anxiously for the next happening.
"What befell?" It was Sir Hokus of Pokes and not a giant who stuck his
head through the doorway. "Did'st call maidens?" asked the Knight,
looking up at Scraps in vague disapproval.
Without stopping to explain what had frightened them, Ozma pointed
a trembling finger at the silver casket and before any of them could
beg him not to, Sir Hokus strode forward and opened the mysterious
chest. Scraps hid her head in her arm. Then, hearing no screams nor
explosions, she finally screwed up enough courage to look down. The
Wizard of Oz and the Scarecrow had returned and they were all staring
in amazement at a green velvet robe which Sir Hokus had taken from the
chest.
"Royal robe of his Majesty, the King of Oz!" boomed the Knight, reading
from a small tag on the ermine collar.
"The King of Oz?" choked Ozma, clasping her hands in excitement. "Why
that's my father, and I remember now. This is the hunting lodge where
we used to hide from Mombi when I was a little girl!"
"But I thought Mombi destroyed your father when she turned you to a
boy," puffed Betsy Bobbin, her eyes sticking out with astonishment and
surprise.
"So did I," muttered the little Wizard. He always felt uneasy and
unhappy when the old witch was mentioned, for he, himself, had given
Ozma into Mombi's keeping when he took possession of the Kingdom. The
old witch had already spirited away the little girl's father and Ozma
herself was too young to rule. But the Wizard, changed very much since
those old days, realized now how wrong it had been and did not like to
recall the part he had played in the affair at all.
"Well, no wonder you remembered the castle," put in Trot.
"But wait!" cried Sir Hokus hoarsely. "There is more." And turning over
the tag he read: "This robe has been preserved by the Fairy Lurline,
and if placed upon the King's shoulders with Incantation No. 986 from
the Green Book of Magic, will restore him to his proper shape. If the
incantation is used without the robe a great disaster will befall."
"Who's Lurline?" asked Trot, her eyes winking very fast indeed.
"Why Lurline is my Fairy Godmother and the Queen of the fairy band we
are all descended from," explained Ozma breathlessly. "Oh girls! To
think my father is really alive!" The delighted little ruler hugged
Betsy and Trot so hard that they had to squeal for mercy.
"I should think you'd rather be Queen yourself," sniffed Scraps,
dropping sulkily from the chandelier and coming over to stare at the
King's robe. "He'll want to boss you 'round and make you go to bed at
eight, wear rubbers and all that other fatherish stuff. Let's go home
and not bother with him. Who wants a King anyway, I like you!"
Betsy looked shocked at the Patch Work Girl's heartless speech, but
Ozma, paying no heed to Scraps, began to confer excitedly with the
Wizard.
"Who sent the quill? Where shall we look first? What does it mean by
the Green Book of Magic?" she asked, one question following another so
fast the Wizard blinked with discomfort.
"If you take my advice," observed the Scarecrow, rubbing his nose
wisely, "you'll return immediately to the Emerald City. Once there we
have but to look in the Magic Picture to discover the whereabouts of
your royal parent."
Among the many treasures in Ozma's palace is the Magic Picture, in
which you may see anyone you wish by merely expressing the desire to
see them. It also shows the country and exact situation they are in,
so you can see how sensible the Scarecrow's suggestion really was.
"But what made that terrible racket upstairs?" demanded Scraps,
suddenly remembering her scare.
"Oh that!" Sir Hokus shuffled his feet in embarrassment. "I fell
through a trap door into a closet full of tins," explained the Knight
sheepishly.
"It's a good thing you did," laughed Betsy Bobbin, "for if you hadn't
frightened Scraps we might never have found the silver chest at all."
"Now that we have found it," shivered Trot, "let's go. It's cold in
here."
"And let's hurry!" cried Ozma, seizing the Scarecrow affectionately by
the arm. "Oh, I can scarcely wait to see my father."
"Why didn't you bring along another wishing pill, Wizard?" sighed
Betsy. "We're in Morrow, sure enough, but where is Morrow? And how do
we get back to the Emerald City, anyway?" No one could answer Betsy's
question, for it had been so long since Ozma had been in the old castle
she remembered nothing of its location.
"We'll have to walk, I s'pose," said the Scarecrow, detaching a cobweb
from his ear, "and the sooner we start, the sooner we'll arrive."
"Right, as usual!" approved the Knight, taking the Scarecrow by the
arm. "Forward for the King and for Oz!"
So, after another short look about, the seven adventurers closed
the castle doors and began to make their way cautiously through the
deserted park.
"If I only knew who sent the feather," murmured Ozma, holding up her
lace skirts to keep them from catching on the bushes and thorns.
"I'll bet it was your Fairy Godmother," said Trot, skipping along
excitedly.
"Well, I wish the goose had come with the feather," sighed Betsy
Bobbin. "I'm hungry as the Hungry Tiger!"
"If you were stuffed with cotton, you'd never have to eat.
I'm glad I'm made of patch work and not of bone and meat."
sang Scraps, dancing ahead in her ridiculous fashion.
"There's a house!" called Betsy, tugging the Knight suddenly by the arm
and pointing to a small red building.
"Oh!" cried Ozma, clasping her hands, "Perhaps someone lives there who
can tell us about my father!"
"He may be near and he may be farther," giggled Scraps starting to run
toward the little red house. "Come on everybody!"
Led by the Patch Work Girl, the little company hurried toward the
little red house. No one was to be seen at the windows, and when Sir
Hokus pounded on the door there was no answer.
"We are wasting time here," said the Scarecrow at last. "Let us be on
our way." And so the homeward march was resumed.