Back to Perhaps City
Seated on a great gold cushion on the lowest golden step of his palace
sat Peer Haps, pointing his telescope with trembling fingers down Maybe
Mountain. It was the fourth day mentioned in Abrog’s prophecy, the day
the monster was to carry off the Princess, and still no word had come
from the Forgetful Poet. Between grief over the loss of his daughter and
worry over Percy Vere, the poor old monarch had got no sleep at all and
was so cross and snappy that the pages and courtiers went stealthily
about on tip-toe, their fingers to their lips.
“Can’t you make a verse, idiot?” roared the Peer, glaring at Perix who,
with another telescope, sat close beside him. Perix moved up a couple of
steps and sadly shook his head.
“But look,” he stuttered in the next breath, “someone is coming up the
mountain.”
“Is it the monster?” puffed Peer Haps anxiously. “Has it two heads?”
Dropping his own telescope, he snatched the young nobleman’s glass and
glued his eye to the top. Then, with a loud shriek of joy, he tore open
the gates and plunged recklessly down the steep mountain side. And
certainly the dear old fellow would have rolled to the bottom had not a
sturdy oak intervened and put a stop to his plunging. It was the
fortunatest place of all for a stop, because, right below the oak,
climbing easily over the rocks and stones, was the lost Princess
herself. Not quite herself, perhaps, but enough so for her father to
recognize her. Holding tight to the oak, the old Peer leaned down and
seized her hand. The next instant he had her in his arms and was running
up the mountain as recklessly as he had just plunged down. But some good
fairy kept him from tumbling and, once up the golden steps, he brushed
past gaping courtiers and pages and never stopped till he had reached
the great throne room.
Setting the Princess on a green satin sofa, he gave her a hasty kiss
and, without stopping to question her about her strange disappearance,
locked the door and rushed from the room. Beads of perspiration stood
out on his forehead. True, the Princess was found, but she certainly was
changed and, worse still, at any moment the monster might appear and
carry her off. Thudding down the corridor, Peer Haps burst into the
apartment of the tall High Humpus of Perhaps City. Humpus was also Chief
Justice and attended to all state weddings. The Peer was determined to
have the Princess marry Perix at once and settle this monster matter
once and for always. Explaining this as he went along, he dragged the
scandalized Justice to the steps to fetch the groom. But Perix had
disappeared and with him every single young and single nobleman in
Perhaps City. For though Peer Haps had run quickly, with his daughter in
his arms, he had not run quickly enough, and word of the mysterious
change in the Princess had already spread over the city.
“She is bewitched,” Perix had whispered to the others in a panic
and—feeling in his bones that Peer Haps would insist upon him marrying
her anyway—the faint-hearted youth had hidden himself in a rain barrel
and the other young noblemen, equally alarmed, had run to the darkest
cellar in the castle. Hopping on one foot and then on the other, Peer
Haps called each one by name. But there was no response and, sinking
down upon the golden steps, the poor King wept with rage and
discouragement. But the Lord High Humpus had been staring down the
mountain for signs of the monster, and now he plucked the Peer sharply
by the sleeve.
“Look!” hissed the Chief Justice, every curl in his white wig
fluttering with excitement. “Look!” Knocking upon the great gates of
the city was a weary, travel-stained young stranger. It was the Prince
of Ragbad. For the flower trail had led him straight to the foot of
Maybe Mountain. There he had lost his way, for Maybe Mountain is covered
with wild flowers of every description, so that it was impossible to
trace farther the footsteps of the little fairy. But Tatters had kept
on, nevertheless, determined, if necessary, to search the whole mountain
until he found her. Naturally, he did not know he was so near the
Forgetful Poet’s old home. But when, after a hard climb he reached the
mountain top and spied the splendid castle of Peer Haps, he decided to
continue his search there and waited impatiently for someone to open the
gates.
“He looks honest,” sputtered the Chief Justice, raising his brows
significantly, “and in spite of his rags he is not unhandsome. Suppose—”
To the rest of the sentence Peer Haps paid no attention, for he had
already flung down the steps and pulled Tatters through the gates.
Grabbing him by the arm, he hurried him up the steps and along the hall
before the startled Prince could say “Jack Robinson.” The Lord High
Humpus, straightening his wig, had dashed after them, and, while Peer
Haps unlocked the door of the throne room, he held Tatters tightly by
the hand.
“What’s the matter?” demanded the astonished youth. He was exhausted and
out of breath from his scramble up the mountain. “What’s the matter? I
am looking for a lost fairy. Have you seen anything of her?” But instead
of answering, the Chief Justice put his fingers to his lips and drew the
young man into the throne room itself. There was a confused mumble of
words, to which Tatters, who still was too weary and breathless to
argue, paid small attention. He nodded absently to some question of the
white-wigged dignitary and the next minute was being crushed in the
embrace of the singularly fat old gentleman who had dragged him up the
steps.
“You have saved us!” cried Peer Haps, tears of joy zig-zagging down his
cheek. “My son! My son! How can I ever repay you!”
“Son?” The Prince of Ragbad sprang back aghast.
“Congratulations!” chuckled the Chief Justice, clapping Tatters on the
back.
“On what?” gasped the bewildered young Prince, whirling ’round.
“On your marriage.” The Chief Justice made a deep bow toward the cloaked
figure, whom Tatters had not seen until now.
“My marriage?” The distracted youth clapped one hand to his head and the
other to his heart and fell backwards upon a page who had just run in to
announce visitors. But before the page could announce them, Grampa,
Percy Vere, Dorothy and Toto burst into the throne room. It had not been
long before they, too, had picked up the flower trail of Urtha and later
the footprints of Tatters himself. You can imagine the delight of the
Forgetful Poet to find himself once more on familiar ground. It was a
hard pull up, for the old soldier had but one leg to climb with, but
they had finally reached the top of the mountain, and, waving aside
courtiers and servants, they had hurried immediately to the throne room.
“Have you seen anything of a little fairy?” puffed all three together,
and then seeing Tatters, apparently having a fit in the arms of a page,
they stopped short. “Why, Tatters, whatever’s the matter?” Dorothy
dropped the red umbrella and ran over to the Prince of Ragbad.
“Matter?” choked the poor Prince, tears streaming down his cheeks.
“Matter! I’m married to I don’t know whom—that’s what’s the
matter!” And before Dorothy could make head or tail of his story the
Forgetful Poet and Peer Haps had rushed at each other with such an
outpouring of affectionate greetings, such hugs and claps upon the back,
that nothing else could be heard at all.
“This is worse than a battle,” groaned the old soldier, bracing himself
against the table.
“It’s an outrage, an utter outrage. Pick me up! Pick me up! Do you
hear?” The wig of the Chief Justice rose into the air and turned round
three times. The voice had certainly come from a pink bag at his feet,
for the Forgetful Poet, in his excitement at seeing the old Peer, had
carelessly dropped Fumbo’s head. Pale with terror, the High Humpus fled
from the throne room, and it was just as well, for there was noise and
confusion enough without him. As no one else heard Fumbo, he had to stay
where he was.
“But the Princess!” cried Percy Vere, extricating himself at last from
the Peer’s embraces. “I could not find her, but all these people are
going to help and—”
“Don’t worry about that,” beamed Peer Haps, waving toward the quiet
little figure. “She is not only found, but married. Now let the monster
appear if he dare. This young man has saved the day.”
“Do you mean to say you are married?” roared Grampa, thumping on the
table with his fist and glaring over at Tatters. “Why didn’t you wait
for us? Where’s Urtha? Where’s the Princess? Why is she all covered up
like this? I insist upon seeing the Princess.”
“One minute! One minute!” begged Peer Haps, stepping between Grampa
and the cloaked figure. “My daughter is bewitched just now and cannot be
seen, but I’m sure the spell can be broken, and then—”
“And you’ve married a bewitched Princess?” With another angry glance at
poor Tatters, Grampa bit off a piece of his bubble pipe and sank heavily
into a pink armchair. Dorothy had been trying her best to unravel the
strange mix-up and now stepped forward.
“Let Tatters tell what happened,” said the little Princess, stamping her
foot imperiously. “It wasn’t his fault, Grampa.” She spoke with such
firmness that Peer Haps fairly gasped. Then, stealing a second glance
and recognizing her instantly as a Princess Royal of Oz, he motioned for
Tatters to speak.
So the Prince of Ragbad rose up and in breathless sentences explained
how he had been seized at the gates of the city and tricked into
marrying the Princess.
“But isn’t that what you were going to do anyway?” asked Percy Vere,
when the Prince had finished. “Weren’t you looking for a Princess and a
fortune when I met you? And didn’t we all decide to hunt the Princess of
Perhaps City? Well! Here she is—and there you are! The only difference
is that you have married her a little sooner than you intended and saved
her from an unknown and dreadful monster. Nothing so terrible about
that. My hat!” Percy Vere smiled coaxingly at the Prince and
encouragingly at Peer Haps, for he did not like to see any of his
friends unhappy.
“But I was only going to rrr-rescue her,” wailed Tatters.
“The difference is that we haven’t seen the Princess,” put in Grampa
more mildly. “We’d save anybody from a monster, but don’t you think, Mr
Vere, it was unfair to marry Tatters to a Princess he’s never even
seen?”
“Idiot,” screamed a harsh voice. Whirling around, the startled company
saw a bent and dreadful old man standing just inside the long window.
“Idiot!” he shrieked again, pointing a long trembling finger at Peer
Haps. “You have married your daughter to a monster!”
“It’s Abrog,” gasped Percy Vere, clutching Dorothy’s hand.
“Monster,” roared Grampa, and hopping over to the Prophet, he seized him
by the beard. “How dare you call Tatters a monster? I’ll fight you!”
puffed the old soldier furiously.
Jerking away, Abrog leaned down, picked up Fumbo’s head and set it upon
Tatters’ shoulders. “See,” he screamed wildly, “you have married your
daughter to a monster with two heads.” And as Peer Haps, who knew
nothing of Tatters’ story, fell back aghast, Fumbo stuck his head out of
the bag and began scolding everyone in the room.
In the uproar that followed and while Percy, Dorothy, and Grampa were
trying all at once to explain things to the old Peer, the Prophet
himself began to move stealthily toward the Princess. Only Tatters saw
this. Placing his father’s head carefully on the table, he reached out
and, just as Abrog reached her, the Prince seized him roughly by the
collar. But he was not quick enough. Abrog had already snatched away the
cloak and there—trembling and sorrowful—stood the Princess of Perhaps
City, herself. Tatters loosed his hold upon the Prophet.
“Urtha,” cried the overwrought young bridegroom and took the frightened
little fairy in his arms.