Urtha is Transformed
You are probably wondering why Urtha herself had stood so silently
during all the commotion in the castle. Well, in the first place the
little flower fairy was so frightened by her experiences with the Play
Fellows that her only thought had been of escape. With the Prophet’s
spell had gone all memory of her former existence as Princess of Perhaps
City and when Peer Haps had found her on Maybe Mountain and hurried her
back to the castle she was more frightened still. Not knowing where she
was, nor what to do, the confused little fairy had done nothing at all.
Trembling under the big cloak, she had stood and waited for something
terrible to happen and when at last she did hear the familiar voices of
Tatters and Grampa and thought they were angry at her, she trembled more
than ever and was afraid to speak or move at all. But now that the
mystery was about cleared up, Urtha was so happy just to be with the
Prince of Ragbad again that she paid small attention to the excitement
about her enchantment. Neither did Tatters, for the lovely little flower
fairy suited him exactly as she was. While they were whispering cozily
about Ragbad and other terribly important matters, Dorothy and Grampa
got their heads together and solved the last of the adventurers’
problems. For Dorothy, bending excitedly over Grampa’s shoulder,
discovered a cure for enchantment on the wizard’s bottle. “Three drops
on the head,” advised the green label. Grampa squinted anxiously into
the bottle, for he had poured nearly the whole contents over Abrog.
“Is there enough?” whispered Dorothy. Grampa, shaking his head
doubtfully, tip-toed over to Urtha and, while Percy Vere, Peer Haps and
Dorothy watched with breathless interest, he shook the bottle over her
head. One drop! Two drops! And—after a violent shake—three fell upon
the soft fern hair of the little fairy. As the third drop fell the
little flower girl melted away before their eyes into a rainbow mist of
lovely colors. Out of the mist stepped a no less lovely Princess—a
Princess so like Urtha that Grampa blinked and Tatters could hardly
believe his senses. Though no longer a little lady of flowers, Urtha
still carried the flowers’ lovely colors and the flowers’ lovely
fragrance in her exquisite little person. Violets were no bluer than
Urtha’s eyes; roses never pinker than Urtha’s cheeks; apple blossoms no
fairer than Urtha’s skin.
Trembling with relief and happiness, Peer Haps clasped her in his arms
and, with the little Princess on his knee, insisted on hearing every
word of the long, strange story. And about time it was that he did, for
all this while he had been trying to explain to himself the presence of
Fumbo’s head. But when Grampa had told their adventures from beginning
to end, Peer Haps welcomed the King of Ragbad as heartily as if his
whole body were present, and they all sat down to talk things over.
Just as Grampa was telling again exactly how they had discovered Urtha,
there was a loud screech in the corridor, and in flew the brave weather
cock, whom no one had missed in the terrible commotion.
“Here I come by the name of Bill,” crowed the excited bird and, flying
over to Grampa, he proudly dropped Grampa’s lost leg into his lap. For
while the others had hurried up the mountain Bill had flown back to the
playground and snatched Grampa’s leg away from King Capers and two of
the mischievous Pierrettes who were deeply engrossed in the game of
scrum. It had taken Bill some time but here at last he was and, joyfully
buckling on his leg, Grampa danced a jig on the spot. For now his
happiness was complete—Peer Haps having already given him a pipe.
Everyone made such a fuss over Bill that he felt fully repaid for his
trouble.
Indeed, it was hard to tell who, of all that merry company, was the
merriest—the Forgetful Poet at finding himself safely home, Peer Haps at
finding his daughter, Grampa at the recovery of his leg, Urtha and
Tatters or Dorothy and Toto at the splendid way the adventure had turned
out.
Chuckling with delight, Peer Haps ran off to fetch his yellow hen, for
he was determined that Tatters should have the fortune—a reward of a
thousand gold bricks.
“Is that the fortune?” asked Bill indignantly, as he placed the yellow
hen in Tatters’ arms. “Why, it’s nothing but a bunch of feathers!”
“Don’t you crow over me,” screeched the yellow hen and, flying up, she
laid a gold brick upon the table, much to the astonishment of Bill and
the delight of the others.
While they still were laughing there was a blinding flash, and the
yellow hen, Bill, Toto, Peer Haps and every other single person in the
throne room disappeared. Yes, sir, they were gone—as gone as a box of
last year’s Christmas candy.