In the Emerald City of Oz
Ten days before the Goat Girl left Mt. Mern, a weary and footsore
pilgrim arrived in the Emerald City. At least, he gave that impression
to all who saw him shuffling with his long staff and beggar's cup along
the shining streets of the capital. The man's head was clean shaven
and his small cap, coarse belted robe and sandals marked him as a monk
of some old and ancient order. He nodded gently to each person he
passed, and seemed, in spite of his many years and wrinkles, innocent
and harmless as a child. The splendor and magnificence of the capital
astonished and bewildered the old gentleman and in a sort of stupefied
disbelief he stared at the emerald studded streets and houses, and
gazed up at the lofty peaks and spires of the royal palace. And this
was not strange, for of all the fairy cities out of the world, the
Emerald City of Oz is the most dazzling and beautiful. But its citizens
are kindly and simple, for all that, and many stopped to drop emeralds
in the pilgrim's cup and ask him if there was anything else that he
needed. To all he mumbled in a strange and indistinguishable tongue and
seeing that he was bound for the palace, and sure that Ozma herself
would know best how to deal with him, the Emerald City-ites let him go
his way unmolested.
The afternoon was warm and pleasant, and Ozma and some of her favorites
were having a lazy game of croquet in the royal garden. The click of
the gold mallets as they tapped the gold balls presently attracted the
attention of the old wayfarer, who paused to peer curiously over the
hedge. The simple summer dresses of the girls in the garden seemed out
of all keeping with their majestic surroundings. Except for Ozma's
frock, which was longer, the emerald crown on her dark curls, and the
golden circlets worn by her three companions, they might have been any
four little girls playing croquet in a garden. But all around were the
unmistakable signs of rank and royalty. At ease under a lime tree stood
a tall soldier with green whiskers leaning on his gun. Three footmen
in satin uniforms stood stiffly beside an emerald topped tea table,
ready at a moment's notice to serve Ozade and frosted cake. On a gold
bench nearby, a straw stuffed scarecrow was quietly reading the paper,
and walking arm in arm down a little path talking composedly together
were an energetic little man with a bald head and a curious fellow who
seemed to be constructed entirely of copper. To all who are familiar
with the quaint and merry folk at Ozma's court, there would be nothing
odd about a live scarecrow or a mechanical man, and most of us would
have recognized Ozma's companions at once as Dorothy, Betsy and Trot,
three mortal girls who long ago came to live in the royal palace.
It was Dorothy who had discovered the Scarecrow on her first visit
to Oz, lifting him down from his pole and traveling in his gay and
carefree company all the way to the Emerald City. In those days the
Wizard of Oz had been ruler of the country, he himself having flown
in a balloon from Omaha. Astonished by the circus tricks of this
little fellow, the Ozians believing him to be a real wizard, made him
their sovereign, and under his wise rule and direction, built the now
famous City of Emeralds. The sight of Dorothy had made the humbug
wizard homesick, and after presenting the Scarecrow with a fine set of
brains, he flew off to America in a balloon of his own construction,
leaving the straw man to rule in his place. Afterward, when Ozma was
disenchanted and proved to be the rightful ruler of Oz, the Scarecrow
had cheerfully resigned. But he still spends most of his time in the
palace and is one of Ozma's most trusted friends and counselors. Later
the Wizard himself returned to Oz and this time took up the study of
magic with such zeal and earnestness he was soon famous from one end
of the country to the other. This made him exceedingly valuable to the
young fairy ruler, and he, like the Scarecrow, is an old and honored
member of Ozma's cabinet.
It was the Wizard who was now talking so earnestly to Tik Tok. The
Metal Man was another of Dorothy's discoveries. She met Tik Tok
on her second visit to Oz and brought him to the Emerald City for
safe keeping. Tik Tok, made by the firm of Smith and Tinker, is a
completely mechanical man and a loyal and dependable citizen when he is
properly wound up and oiled. Betsy and Trot, like Dorothy, arrived more
or less by wind, wave and accident in the Land of Oz. They liked it so
well and proved so gay and amusing, Ozma begged them to stay with her
and Dorothy in the green castle and help rule the many merry Kingdoms
that make up her wonderful empire. This they were only too happy to do,
so here they are, Princesses in their own right and living in the most
gorgeous City out of the world.
Besides the celebrities in the garden, there are numerous other
important people at Ozma's court. For instance, there is Herby, the
Medicine Man, whose chest is really a medicine chest full of pills,
cures and ointments. Then there is Scraps, a lively girl made from a
patchwork quilt by a wizard's wife, and brought to life by the wizard;
and there's Pigasus, a flying pig. There's a doubtful dromedary, a
cowardly lion, a hungry tiger, and Dorothy's little dog Toto; a glass
cat belonging to Scraps, a wooden saw horse belonging to Ozma, an Iffin
whom Jack Pumpkinhead discovered near the Land of Barons, and a dozen
more unique and unusual characters.
The old pilgrim seemed to find the group in the garden surprising
enough, for he watched them closely and silently for almost ten
minutes, cupping his hand behind his ear in an endeavor to catch what
the Wizard was saying.
"It is just as I have told you," the little Wizard was remarking
earnestly to Tik Tok. "The great record book of Glinda has vanished
from her castle without trace or reason and even with my powerful
searchlight and looking glasses I have been unable to discover any
signs of it. Word of the theft came yesterday by pigeon post."
"Some-one has sto-len it for no good pur-pose," answered the Metal
Man solemnly. But the old man leaning over the hedge heard none of
this, for the two were conversing in low and guarded tones. So after a
long puzzled look at the Scarecrow the pilgrim took up his staff and
shuffled along the gold pebbled path to the palace itself. A pompous
footman in gold and green came to answer his timid knock at the door.
"What name, please, what business, and why in the wood does a fellow
like you come begging at the door of a castle?" inquired the footman in
a loud displeased voice.
"There, there, Puffup," admonished a rosy-cheeked maid in a ribboned
cap and apron, peering around the wide shoulders of the footman. "Don't
be so shouting proud. You've frightened the old gentleman half out of
his wits. Can't you see he is tired and hungry and probably in need of
a lunch?" At the little maid's kind speech, the pilgrim bowed at least
a dozen times, nodding his head energetically to show that she was
perfectly right in her conjecture. "Come along with you," urged Jellia
Jamb, giving him a friendly wink.
Edging nervously past the muttering footman, the old beggar followed
Jellia into the castle's spacious and splendid dining hall. "Wait right
here and I'll bring you some cake and apple sauce, an omelette and a
pot of tea," promised the obliging girl. "How will that be?" Jellia
Jamb, who was Ozma's own personal maid and a privileged character
around the castle, grinned cheerfully at her ancient visitor, and
though the old monk pretended not to understand a word that she said,
he nevertheless seated himself at the table and with round eyes watched
her skip through the swinging door into the pantry.
No sooner had Jellia disappeared, than the old rascal sprang nimbly to
his feet and began to peer eagerly all around him. Passing hurriedly
over a rich gold service on the sideboard, he pounced upon an earthen
jug on a crystal stand and tucking it under his robe, slipped silently
as a shadow out of the dining hall, up the green carpeted stairs and
straight into the private sitting room of Ozma of Oz. Once there, and
without losing a moment, he walked to the west wall, took down a large
gold framed picture, blew upon it with a small glass tube, till it
was no larger than a cake of chocolate--and thrust it into an inner
pocket. Then, holding his robe high above his skinny shins and with
the jug clasped tightly in his arms, he galloped down the stairs and
out an open window into the garden, reaching a large clump of snowball
bushes without encountering anyone. Hiding himself well in the bushes,
he tore off the monk's robe, turned it inside out, dragged a white wig
from his sock and presently emerged as dignified and plausible an old
grandmother as any one would wish to see. The other side of his monk's
robe was green and made up in a style much affected by old ladies in
the capital, so that now he attracted no attention whatever. The jug in
a large string bag dangled carelessly from his wrist, and smiling and
nodding amiably he hurried through the garden, passed rapidly down one
street and another, through the high city gates, on and on, till he was
far out in the country walking faster and faster and less like a monk
or an old lady at every step.