What Wizard?
At first, everything seemed as usual. Then, turning to ask the Tin
Woodman a question, Dorothy was annoyed to discover that his chair was
pushed back and he was nowhere in sight.
"Oh, he's probably helping the Wizard," decided Dorothy, and had no
sooner come to this comforting conclusion before she gave a second
start of alarm. Glinda, the Good Sorceress, was no longer in her seat
at the foot of the table, and running her eye hurriedly down the
glittering board, Dorothy saw five more empty places. Pressing a
finger to her forehead, Dorothy tried to remember who had been sitting
in the five deserted chairs. Surely Joe King and Queen Hyacinth had
been there between Bettsy Bobbin and Trot, while Prince Philador, Queen
Orin and King Cheeriobed had been directly opposite.
"Good Gillikens!" gasped the little girl, jumping quickly to her feet.
"The rulers of all four Oz countries are gone and Highboy's gone, too."
And strangely enough, nobody seemed to have missed them. Instead, they
were listening with broad smiles and appreciatively tapping toes to the
loud and hilarious singing of the Patch Work Girl. Scraps, thinking
it a shame to let a mere change of whiskers spoil a good party, was
enlivening the company with her newest and most comical rhymes. So
loud was her voice and the applause of the banqueters, Dorothy found
it impossible to make herself heard, so, running around to the back of
the Scarecrow's chair, she tugged him anxiously by the arm. "Scarecrow!
Scarecrow!" whispered Dorothy hoarsely, "Where are the Four Rulers of
Oz, and whatever can be keeping the Wizard so long?" Tearing his gaze
reluctantly from the Patch Work Girl, the Scarecrow looked dreamily
over his shoulder.
"WHAT WIZARD?" he inquired blankly.
"THE Wizard, OUR Wizard, the wonderful Wizard of Oz." Dorothy stamped
her foot and almost shouted with surprise and vexation.
"Never heard of him," declared the Scarecrow, smiling blandly down at
her. "Now, why not sit quietly down and listen to Scraps? She's never
been funnier. Ha! Ha! Ha! Never funnier!" Dorothy was so stunned and
dumbfounded by the Scarecrow's statement about the Wizard, she opened
and closed her mouth several times without saying anything.
"Mercy, I'd better tell Ozma about this," she thought distractedly,
and swinging round abruptly she scurried along back of the diners till
she came to the head of the table. "Oh, Ozma!" panted the little girl
breathlessly--then stopped short. There was no one in Ozma's great
dragon armed chair of state. The Yellow Knight and Prince Pompadore,
who for the last course were in the seats of honor beside the little
Queen, leaned unconcernedly across her empty place, engaged in a long,
earnest argument about horses. They looked up in surprise as Dorothy,
her crown by this time very much on the side, bounced suddenly between
them. "Where's Ozma?" demanded the little girl, thumping her fist
sharply on the table.
"Ozma?" The Yellow Knight and Prince Pompa exchanged an uneasy glance.
"Who is Ozma?" asked Prince Pompadore curiously.
"Oh! Oh, I think you all are perfectly horrid. Stop joking! Stop
teasing me!" cried Dorothy, and as both Princes in frank amazement
jumped up to try to comfort her, she rushed angrily from the room.
As she fled along the green corridor she could still hear Scraps
singing and the shouts and cheers of her listeners. "This is
terrible--terrible!" wailed Dorothy, and running blindly down the long
hall she burst through the swinging doors of the Wizard's laboratory.
What she had expected to find Dorothy hardly knew. Really, she was
hoping to see Ozma and the four other rulers grouped around the
Wizard's green table. But only a blank suffocating silence answered
her frantic call for the Wizard. Frightened into silence herself,
Dorothy tiptoed from one end to the other of the long, curiously
appointed apartment, peering into cupboards, under sofas and back of
screens. Where was the Red Jinn? Where was the Little Wizard of Oz?
Not here certainly. Not in the Banquet Hall. But the THRONE ROOM!
THERE she would find all of her missing friends conferring with Ozma
over the threatened danger to the realm. With a little gasp of relief,
she darted across the corridor into the vast and magnificent Hall of
Justice where Ozma received visitors, settled disputes, and carried on
all the important business of governing.
They were not in the sumptuous presence chamber, but at least the
throne was not empty. No--no, indeed! Dorothy looked once, rubbed her
eyes--looked again, and then, giving a shrill scream of terror, flung
both arms round one of the emerald studded pillars. An immense white
horse was sitting on the throne of Oz. A great fat King was sitting
on the horse, or rather, clinging desperately to his neck. Dorothy knew
he was a King by the crown perched ridiculously on the side of his
head. That crown seemed oddly familiar, and after another horrified
glance Dorothy screamed again, for it was the splendid emerald circlet
belonging to Ozma of Oz.
Her screams seemed to rouse the two occupants of the throne, who, to be
perfectly frank, looked as dazed and stupefied as Dorothy herself.
"Go away!" sputtered the fat King, waving his arms irritably. "Go away,
little girl, and don't bother me."
"And kindly bow as you leave," directed the White Horse, lifting one
foot sternly. "You are looking at the Emperor of Oz and his Imperial
Charger." Bowing more from astonishment than intention, Dorothy backed
a few steps, then turned round and ran madly toward the Royal Banquet
Hall.