THE WIZARD AND THE PRINCESS TRUELLA

By L. Frank Baum
Author of The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, The Secret of the Lost Fortune, The Visitors from Oz, etc.

Originally published in The Magical Monarch of Mo, 1903.


Within the depths of the mountains which bordered the Valley of Mo to the east lived a Wicked Wizard in a cavern of rubies. It was many, many feet below the surface of the earth and cut off entirely from the rest of the world, save for one passage which led through dangerous caves and tunnels to the top of the highest mountain. In order to get out of his cavern the Wizard was obliged to come to this mountaintop, and from there descend to the outside world.

The Wizard lived all alone, but he did not mind that, for his thoughts were always on his books and studies, and he seldom showed himself on the surface of the earth. But when he did go out everyone laughed at him, for this powerful magician was no taller than my knee, and was very old and wrinkled, so that he looked comical indeed beside an ordinary man.

The Wizard was nearly as sensitive as he was wicked, and was sorry he had not grown so big as other people. The laughter that always greeted him made him angry.

At last he determined to find some magical compound that would make him grow bigger. He shut himself up in his cave and searched diligently among his books. Finally he found a formula recommended by some dead and gone magician to make anyone grow a foot each day so long as the dose was taken. Most of the ingredients were quite easy to procure, being such as spiders' livers, kerosene oil and the teeth of canary birds, mixed together in a boiling caldron. But the last item of the recipe was so unusual that it made the Wizard scratch his head in perplexity.

It was the big toe of a young and beautiful princess.

The Wizard thought on the matter for three days, but nowhere could he think of a young and beautiful princess who would willingly part with her big toe - even that he might grow to be as big as he wished.

Then, as such a thing was not to be come by honestly, the Wicked Wizard resolved to steal it. So he went through all the caves and passages until he came to the mountaintop. Standing on the point of a rock he placed one hand on his chin and the other on the back of his neck, and then recited the following magical incantation:

"I wish to go
To steal the big toe
Of a princess I know,
In order to grow
Quite big. And so
I'll change to a crow!"

No sooner had he spoken the words than he changed into a black crow, and flew away into the Valley of Mo, where he hid himself in a tall tree that grew near the King's palace.

That morning, as the Princess Truella was lying late in bed, with one of her dainty pink feet sticking out from under the covers, in through the window fluttered a black crow, which picked off her big toe and immediately flew away with it.

The Princess awoke with a scream and was horrified to find her beautiful foot ruined by the loss of her biggest toe. When the King and Queen and the Princes and Princesses, having heard her outcry, came running in to see what was the matter, they were each and all very indignant at the theft.

But, search as they might, nowhere could they find the audacious black crow, nor the Princess' big toe, and the whole court was in despair.

Finally Timtom, who was now a Prince, suggested that Truella seek assistance from the kind Sorceress Maetta, who had helped him out of his own difficulties. The Princess thought well of this idea, and determined to undertake a journey to the castle.

She whistled for her favorite stork, and soon the great bird came to her side. When the stork had been saddled the Princess kissed her father and mother good-by and seated herself on the bird's back. It instantly rose into the air and flew away toward the castle of Maetta.

Traveling in this pleasant way, high in the air, the Princess crossed the River of Needles and the deep gulf and the dangerous wood, and at last was set down safe at the castle gates.

Maetta welcomed the pretty Princess very cordially and, on being told of her misfortune, at once agreed to assist her. So the Sorceress consulted her Oracle, which told her truly anything she wanted to know, and then said to the Princess:

"Your toe is in the possession of the Wicked Wizard who lives in the ruby cave under the mountains. In order to recover it you must go yourself to seek it, but I warn you that the Wizard will put every obstacle in your path to prevent your finding the toe and taking it from him."

"Oh, dear!" exclaimed Truella. "I am afraid I shall never be able to get my toe from such a horrid man."

"Have courage, and trust in me," returned Maetta, "for I believe my powers are stronger than his. I shall now furnish you the weapons you must use to overcome him. Here is a magic umbrella, and in this basket which you must carry on your arm, you will find a lump of putty, an iron ball, a mirror, a package of chewing gum and a magic veil, all of which will be very useful. Here, also, is a winged dagger, with which you must protect yourself if the Wizard attempts to harm you. With these enchanted weapons and a brave heart I believe you will succeed. So kiss me, my child, and start on your journey."

Truella thanked the kind Sorceress, and mounting the saddle of her stork flew away toward the high mountain in which dwelt the Wicked Wizard.

But the naughty man, by means of his black magic, saw her coming, and sent such a fierce wind to blow against her that it prevented the stork from making any headway through the air. Therefore, in spite of his huge wings and remarkable strength, the brave bird was unable to get an inch nearer the mountain.

When Truella saw this she put up the umbrella and held it in front of the stork, whereupon, being shielded from the wind, he flew easily to the mountain.

The Princess now dismounted and, looking into the hole at the top of the mountain, discovered a flight of stairs leading downward.

Taking her basket on her arm, as she had been directed, Truella walked boldly down the steps until she came to a door. But then she shrank back in affright, for before the door was coiled a great serpent, not quite a mile long and fully as large around as a stick of wood. The girl knew she must manage in some way to overcome this terrible creature, so when the serpent opened its mouth and raised its head to bite her, she reached within the basket, and found the lump of putty. She threw it quickly into the serpent's mouth. The creature snapped its jaws together so suddenly that its teeth stuck fast in the putty, and this made it so furious that it wriggled around until it had tied itself into a hard knot, and could wriggle no longer.

Seeing there was no further danger, the Princess passed the door and entered a large cave, which was but dimly lighted. While she paused to allow her eyes to become accustomed to the darkness, so that she might see her way, a faint rustling sound reached her ears, and a moment later there came toward her a hideous old woman, lean and bent, with wrinkled face and piercing black eyes. She had only one tooth, but that was of enormous size, being nearly as large as the tusk of an elephant, and it curved out of her mouth and down under her chin, where it ended in a very sharp point. Her fingernails were a foot long, and they also were very sharp and strong.

"What are you doing here?" asked the old woman in a harsh voice, while she moved her horrible fingers, as if about to scratch out Truella's eyes.

"I came to see the Wizard," said the Princess calmly, "and if you will allow me to pass I shall give you, in return for the favor, some delicious chewing gum."

"Chewing gum!" croaked the old woman. "What is that?"

"It is a dainty of which all ladies are very fond," replied Truella, taking the packet from her basket. "This is it."

The old woman hesitated a moment, and then said,

"Well, I'll try the chewing gum and see what it is like. There will be plenty of time to scratch out your eyes afterward.''

She placed the gum in her mouth and tried to chew it, but when she shut her jaws together the great tusk went straight through her neck and came out at the back. The old hag gave a scream and put up her hands to pull out the tusk again, but so great was her excitement that in her haste she scratched out both her own eyes, and could no longer see where the Princess was standing.

So Truella ran through the cave and came to a door, on which she knocked. Instantly it flew open, and before her she saw another cave, this time brightly lighted, but filled with knives and daggers, which were flying about in every direction. To enter this cave was impossible, for the Princess saw she would immediately be pierced by dozens of the sharp daggers.

So she hesitated for a time, not knowing how to proceed. But, chancing to remember her basket, she took from it the iron ball, which she tossed into the center of the cave of daggers. At once the dangerous weapons began to strike against the ball, and as soon as they touched it they were broken and fell to the floor. In a short time everyone of the knives and daggers had been spoiled by contact with the iron ball, and Truella passed safely through the cave and came to another long stairway leading downward. At the bottom of this she reached the third cave, and came upon a horrible monster.

It had the body of a zebra, the legs of a rhinoceros, the neck of a giraffe, the head of a bulldog and three corrugated tails. This monster at once began to growl and run toward her, showing its terrible teeth and lashing its three tails. The Princess snatched the mirror from her basket and, as the creature came near her, she held the glittering surface before its eyes. It gave one look into the mirror and fell lifeless at her feet, frightened to death by its own reflection in the mirror.

Truella now walked through several more caves and descended a long flight of stairs, which brought her to another door, on which was a sign that read:

"A. WIZARD, Esq.,
Office hours:
From 10:45 until
a quarter to 11."

The Princess, knowing that she had now reached the den of the Wizard who had stolen her big toe, knocked boldly on the door.

"Come in!" called a voice.

Truella obeyed, and found herself in a large cave, the walls of which were lined with rubies. In each of the four corners were big electric lights, and these, shining upon the rubies, filled the cave with a deep red glow. The Wizard himself sat at his desk in one of the corners, and when the Princess entered he looked up and exclaimed:

"What! Is it you? Really, I did not expect to see you. How did you manage to pass the guards I placed within the caves and passageways to prevent your coming here?"

"Oh, that was not difficult," answered Truella, "for you must know I am protected by a power stronger than your own."

The Wizard was much annoyed at this reply, for he knew it was true, and that only by cunning could he hope to oppose the pretty Princess. Still, he was resolved not to give up the big toe unless obliged to, for it was necessary to complete the magic compound.

"What do you want?" he asked, after a moment's thought.

"I want the toe you stole from me while I was asleep."
,br> The Wizard knew it was useless to deny the theft, so he replied, "Very well. Take a chair, and I will see if I can find it."

But Truella feared the little man was deceiving her, so when he turned his back she took the magic veil from her basket and threw it over her head. Immediately it began unfolding until it covered her completely, from head to foot.

The Wizard walked over to a cupboard, which he opened, and, while pretending to search for the toe, he suddenly turned on a big faucet that was concealed under a shelf. At once thunder rolled, lightning flashed, and from the arched ceiling of the cavern drops of fire began to fall, coming thicker and thicker until a perfect shower of burning drops filled the room.

These fell hissing upon Truella's veil, but could not penetrate it. They all bounded off and were scattered on the rocky floor, where they soon burned themselves out. Seeing this, the Wizard gave a sigh of disappointment and turned off the faucet. The fire drops ceased to fall.

"Please excuse this little interruption," he said, as if he had not been the cause of it himself. "I'll find the toe in a few minutes. I must have mislaid it somewhere."

But Truella suspected he was up to more mischief, and was on her guard. She saw him stealthily press a button, and in the same instant a deep gulf opened in the floor of the cave, halfway between the Princess and the Wizard.

Truella did not know what this meant, at first, unless it was to prevent her getting across the room to where her toe was, but soon she noticed that the gulf was moving toward her, slowly, but steadily. Since it extended across the cave from wall to wall, it would in time be sure to reach the spot where she stood, when she would, of course, fall into it.

When she saw her danger the Princess became frightened, and tried to escape through the door by which she had entered; but to her dismay she found it locked. Then she turned to look at the Wizard. The little man had perched himself upon a high stool, and was carelessly swinging his feet and laughing with glee at Truella's awful peril. He thought that at last he had certainly found a way to destroy her.

The poor Princess again looked into the gulf, which was gradually getting nearer and nearer. She shuddered at its vast depths.

Just as she was giving way to despair, and the gulf had crept very close to her feet, Truella thought of her winged dagger. She drew it from her bosom and, pointing it toward her enemy, said:

"Save me from the Wizard's art -
Fly until you reach his heart.
Foil his power and set me free,
This is my command to thee!"

In a flash the dagger flew from her hand and struck the Wizard full on his breast. With a loud cry he fell forward into the gulf, which in the same instant closed up with a crash. Then, when the rocks about her had ceased trembling from the shock, the door swung open, leaving the Princess at liberty to go where she pleased.

She now searched the Wizard's cupboard until she found her toe, which had been safely hidden in a little ivory box. Truella stopped only long enough to put on her toe, and then she ran through the caves and up the stairways until she reached the top of the mountain again.

There she found her stork patiently awaiting her and, having seated herself on its back, she rode safely and triumphantly back to her father's palace.

The King and Queen were delighted when she recounted to them the success of her adventure, but they shuddered when they learned of the fearful dangers their sweet little daughter had encountered.

"It seems to me," said the good Queen, "that a big toe is scarcely worth all the trouble you have had in recovering it."

"Perhaps not," replied the Princess thoughtfully, "but a big toe is very handy to have when you wish to dance. And, after all, I succeeded in destroying the Wicked Wizard, which surely repays me for the trials I have been forced to undergo."

THE FORGETFUL POET

 

By Ruth Plumly Thompson 

Originally published in the Philadelphia Public Ledger, August 18, 1918.

The Forgetful Poet's Puzzles

Had a telegram saying nothing was wrong with our old friend this week and yesterday along came these verses, which I trust you can finish:

On Swimming

I'm old enough, I don't know why
I never learned to swim,
And this is one time that I wish
I weren't so awful ------

A bit more girth around the waist
Would come in handy now.
I've swallowed nigh the whole darn sea
And still I don't know ------

"Now lie back on the water, just
As if you were in bed."
I do it, and next thing I know
I'm standing on my ------

Upon the bottom - sure is hard
On me and my old thinker.
I'll never be a floater - guess
I'm cut out for a ------

The answers to last week's puzzles were: 1, scrub pine; 2, fir tree; 3, dovecote; 4, oven bird; 5, Major General Wood.

[Answers next time.]

Copyright © 2008 Eric Shanower and David Maxine. All rights reserved.

OLIVER ELEPHANT FINDS A RELATION

By Ruth Plumly Thompson
Author of Ozoplaning with the Wizard of Oz, "The Wizard of Pumperdink", "King, King! Double King!", etc.

Originally published in the Philadelphia Public Ledger, September 6, 1914.

"I wish--" said big little Oliver Elephant one day, "I wish I had some brothers or sisters or SOME kind of relations! Mother, why haven't I more relations?"

"Relations!" said Oliver Elephant's mother, looking up from her knitting. "Aren't your father and I and your Uncle Abner enough?"

"Yes--but WHY haven't--"

"Now, Oliver Elephant, don't bother me!" said his mother, "I've my trunk full now, without any more relations. Go play!"

So Oliver Elephant went out to play, but all the way to the big forest he kept thinking about the relations he didn't have--and the more he thought about it--the lonelier he felt, and pretty soon a BIG tear rolled down his trunk and splashed into the dust. But just then--before another tear even got started--a voice from somewhere called, "HELLO, cousin!"

"Cousin!" gulped Oliver Elephant, and he put up his big ears and put down his big ears, and looked and looked and LOOKED, and at last saw two merry eyes winking at him from the underbrush. "Did you say cousin?" asked Oliver, flapping his ears with excitement, 'cause it seemed as if he were to find a relation after all.

" 'Course I said cousin!" chuckled the owner of the eyes, and out stepped the FUNNIEST little beast that Oliver Elephant had ever seen in his life. (And if you look up at the top of this story--why, you'll see him, too.)

"What's your name?" asked Oliver, stopping stock still.

"THOMAS TAPIR!" answered the queer beast promptly. "OH,

Thomas Tapir--
Cut a caper,
Which somehow never--
Got on paper!"

He chanted gaily, winking first one eye and then the other. "What was the caper?" asked Oliver, beginning to feel very much interested in this strange cousin person.

"Why--chasing my tail!" whispered Thomas mysteriously--winking both eyes this time.

Oliver Elephant waved his trunk to and fro in perplexity. "BUT--you haven't any tail!" he brought out at last. At this Thomas turned 'round. He really had no tail to speak of, much less to chase.

"HA HA, HO HO!" he laughed, wrinkling up his long nose, "That's the reason that it didn't get on paper, cousin!" He was such a jolly little chap that Oliver couldn't help laughing, too--so they both laughed and laughed at Thomas' joke.

"I believe I'm going to like you," said Oliver Elephant slowly, after he had stopped laughing. "I think I'll call you Tommy."

"Go ahead--and do it!" said Thomas Tapir--"we're cousins--come, don't you think we look a bit alike?"

"WE-LL," said Oliver, putting up his ears, "We've got the same kind of COATS and the same kind of EYES--and if you were bigger--and your ears were larger--and your nose was longer--why then we'd almost be TWINS, 'stead of cousins!" said Tommy "My grandfather told me that we were LINKS between you elephants and our other cousins, the hogs," he added, wisely.

"Links?" said Oliver Elephant, rolling his eyes - "What are links?"

"Why, don't you know what links are?" gasped Tommy. "What DO you know?"

"I know my elephantography and my elephantistry!" said Oliver Elephant stoutly--"In the elephant year--"

"Oh, all right," said Tommy, "you needn't bother telling me--but a link, Oliver Elephant, is something that comes between--see! We tapirs come between you elephants and the wild hogs and that's why we're COUSINS!"

"And that's why your trunks tapired off and your tails tapired off--and your ears tapired off--that's why you're a TAPIR I guess," said Oliver Elephant, grinning behind his trunk.

"Oh, ho! Ho! HO!" laughed Thomas, making a dive at his tail--"you made a JOKE, Oliver Elephant!"

"I don't mean that you're not handsome!" added Oliver generously.

"Oh, that's all right!' said Tommy--"Come on, let's go swimming!"

"COCOANUTS!" said Oliver Elephant (he always said cocoanuts when he was pleased). "Let's!"

And SO Oliver and his cousin Tommy went swimming together and had a delightful time. I'll tell you some more about them some day.

THE FORGETFUL POET

 

By Ruth Plumly Thompson 

Originally published in the Philadelphia Public Ledger, August 11, 1918.

Puzzles

No word from the Forgetful Poet this week. 'Fraid he's bumped his head or stumped his toe or something. I've sent a telegram to the camp where he's staying asking for particulars and I'll let you hear as soon as I discover the trouble.

Last week's answers were:

1, Line; 2, Bound; 3, Run; 4, Ring; 5, Snuff.

And now, my dears and ducks and all the rest of you, tell me:

To what tree would you go for help at house-cleaning time?

To what tree would you go to complete your winter wardrobe?

What bird's home could you wear?

To what bird would you go if you wanted to bake?

[Answers next time.]

Copyright © 2008 Eric Shanower and David Maxine. All rights reserved.

THE GORDON KID AND THE LEPRECHAUN

By John R. Neill
Author of The Runaway in Oz, "Toyland", The Wonder City of Oz, etc.
Illustrated by the Author

Originally published in Boy's Life, December 1920.


The genial and bracing spring air had at last begun to bring the boys out into the open country after a long winter that had kept some of the younger Boy Scouts cooped up in their homes.

Jim Warren and Alex Rutherford were older boys who had continued their outdoor life all through the severe weather and were returning from a scout meeting when they were passed on the street by a rather tall, lanky boy.

He was dressed in a new well fitting khaki suit; he had a book under his arm and a preoccupied look on his face.

"Say, Alex, did you ever see a kid grow like that Gordon Kid?" said Jim, turning round to see him from the back.

"Is that the Gordon Kid?" drawled Alex. "I'd a passed him on the street without knowing him at all, he certainly is changed. He is the one that the other boys used to josh about being the runt, isn't he?" Both boys stood staring at the retreating figure. "And now, look at him," said Jim. "By Jingo, he's bigger than the scoutmaster; who'd have expected it?"

Jim and Alex were still staring when the Gordon Kid turned the corner.

Now to get back to the Gordon Kid himself, for that is where the whole story lies. He always was a queer dick of a quiet dreamer with ideas and inventions that often brought more adventure and ridicule than anything else on his head.

And because of his shortness he had been jibed, often severely, by the other boys of his patrol.

All this he took good-naturedly and usually managed to have enough to hand back to make him generally liked.

He had read more books than the other boys and often settled disputes from the store of information that he had tucked away. He was just the everyday sort of a boy, no different from the others, except the smart offensive type that are likely to pop up now and then.

It was a day or so after the previous Christmas that the incidents in this story occurred. Tom Gordon's mother had wanted to give Tom a new scout outfit and had asked his father to send it up for his Christmas present, but when it came and was tried on they found it was so big that Tom could not possibly use it.

The father, a tall good-looking man, only remarked that he knew the right size to get, and that he had been the same size as Tom when he was his age.

So the clothes were put away and nothing more was said, and Tom enjoyed the other gifts he received, notably a book of Irish Fairy Stories which he enjoyed more than his meals.

About this time he was getting tired of being bothered about his size and after some serious thinking, evolved an idea that he kept to himself and worked on all afternoon in the work shop.

That night, when he went to bed, he carried quietly upstairs a large bundle, which, when everyone else was asleep, he opened and spread on the bed.

An odd sort of harness he laid on the pillow. It was made of belts and rope and on the foot of the bed he put a pair of old shoes with ring-bolts securely screwed on the soles, then two flat irons and some more rope, and the Irish Fairy book he put on the chair beside the bed.

It wasn't long after this that he was in his pajamas and had slipped the belts over his shoulders and put on the shoes with the two irons tied to the ring-bolts with the rope, dangling about four inches from the floor.

He smiled to himself after a lot of adjusting of the ropes at the head of the bed where he tied himself fast and at the foot where he left plenty of free play.

The novelty of the situation made him grin.

Then he took up his book, read for a little while, and, becoming drowsy and feeling himself dozing off, put the book back on the chair, and shut out the electric light with a push button that he had under his pillow, and floated away in a sound sleep.


* * * * *
From then on everything changed for the Gordon Kid. A moment seemed years, and the few experiences that had occurred in his young life that had in any way been unusual seemed surging back, exaggerated and distorted with his whole small world turned upside down.

He sat up in bed, and his feet were free. Then he took up his book and tried to keep calm as he tried to read with the book on his knees.

But as he sat, the book began to grow larger until each page was three feet wide and seemed hollow, and way back in the distance there were trees growing and the wind seemed blowing up from the sea.

A faint whirring sounded far away and seemed to grow. The room was dark, except for the light that came from the pages of the book, but with the whirring the light grew brighter and Tom's hair tingled at the roots as he pushed the book to the floor and fairly gasped, now really frightened at the strangeness of it all.

Still the whirring grew with the wind within the pages of the book, till, without a word, a flock of the funniest little men that Tom could possibly have imagined came flying up in circles and in the figure eight, about the room. They had little butterfly wings and bright green hats and coats with long tails that fluttered out behind.

Some had orange breeches and coats, others blue or red, in fact every color of the rainbow, and with it all was a dazzling brilliance everywhere. Many of the little men had short black wooden clubs and others were smoking little clay pipes. There were long noses and broad squat noses, many had bushy little whiskers that stuck out straight under their chins.

They settled themselves as comfortably as they could wherever they lit, over the top of the mirror, or like men at a base ball game in rows on top of the picture frames and the bureau.

Soon the foot of the bed was covered, then the floor was swarming and in all there were upward of nine hundred of these funny little creatures.

The very first little man to fly in, from the manner of command that he assumed, together with the length and breadth of his whiskers, and too, the size of his club, seemed to be their leader.

He took the seat on the top of the bed post, and sat with his legs crossed, calmly smoking a short black pipe, sending tiny clouds of smoke all around him while he waited for all his followers to settle down. Then, standing up, he pushed his hat on one side and deliberately knocked the ashes out of his pipe, and with his feet crossed, stood leaning on his club and looking at Tom.

"Good morning - or good evening, I mean," said Tom in a scared and husky voice.

Then all the little men burst into a roar of laughter and rocked and swayed, and held their sides like they feared they would burst.

But their leader seemed to resent what the scared boy had said and bristling up, shook his stick at Tom's head and started bellowing away at the top of his thin squeaky voice. "Mornin'! Mornin'! Now what do ye know about mornin'? Ye great big lunk-head you. Ye are trying to tell me something about the mornin'. Me that's been chased by the mornin' since the world began, hey? And with the days getting longer and the nights getting shorter."

Then he flew down from his perch and before Tom could wink the little ruffian had banged him a good smart wallop on the head.

"There's a puck of the knob to learn ye manners," he said, and flew back to his perch on the bedpost.


 
Now Tom was nearly dumbfounded with such manners, especially with the little man's objections to his manners, and he really meant to be polite in what he had said.

So he tried to explain. But try as he would, every single thing he said the little leader would twist into an affront and fly down and bang him again, taking the utmost care to strike always exactly in the same spot.

Now we know that scouts are polite, and should be patient but there are times when even a scout turns, and with every puck of the knob Tom Gordon bristled up himself. Though he was quiet he never lacked spirit. And when he thought this wild little man with his band of ruffians had ridiculed him and banged his head just a little too much, he gave one jump for the bed-post and tried to knock the little wild man off.

It would have been better if he had lain still, for in an instant the room was in utter darkness with all the little men buzzing around him belaboring him with their clubs while others jabbed him with sharp thorns they had concealed in their belts.

From the way they went about it together with the amount of merriment each successful attack afforded them, and there were many, Tom soon concluded they knew the game too well for him to make much headway against them, then he thought of the push button under the pillow and he made one dive for it and lit up the room again. With the pillow in his hands he began making frantic sweeps through the air in the hope of knocking over some of this swarm of little men, and perhaps clearing the room of them.

For hours and hours this turmoil kept up, with the little men having all the fun, Tom fanning the air and the fairy folk skimming out of the way with just enough time to exasperate Tom, and set the fairies almost into paroxysms of laughter at his failures.

Then about forty little fairy men gathered together and ripped the sheet from the bed and with a sudden twist they had it wound round Tom's neck and arms and down he went on the bed, all tied up and almost exhausted.

Little by little they quieted down, and the little king stood up to make a speech. He took off his hat, floundered around in the tails of his green coat till he found a tiny crown that he placed on the top of his tousled head. Then coming up close to Tom he jumped up on his chest and stood threateningly as he spoke to him.

"By this and by that, o' what I've seen of ye to-night I've one three halfs of a mind to put ye down as rough."

"Get out of here, or I'll yell and wake up everyone in the house," retorted Tom, almost beside himself.

"Yell wanst and I'll jam the pillow down your throat and then push it farther with me stick," snapped back the king as he swung his club close to Tom's nose.

"I know all about ye, wid yer secret of making yersilf taller, thinking it a disgrace to be small. Now look at me, do ye see anything to be ashamed of in me? Don't you answer me back but listen to me talking. I'm just peffik. I came here to-night wid the intention o' helping ye a little, but wid yer impidence and low behavior this very evening I have four or five halfs of a mind to make ye shorter than ye be now. Then how would ye feel gadding about wid your friends over the hills?'

"Who told you that?" asked Tom, slightly irritated and very much perplexed.

"Go way wid ye," bellowed the king, "don't talk back to me I tell you," and he made another pass with his club, this time so near to the boy's nose that he cold feel the wind of it, and with such exertion that he lost his balance slightly and his crown fell off. At this all the other fairies burst into a thunder of laughter at their chief, and he, turning on them, began chasing them all over the room, they upsetting the furniture in their haste to get out of his reach.

"Have ye no respect for your elders, I am asking ye?" yelled the king, buzzing back close to Tom.

"I'm squiffty towsind years older than you be, you two years old little pickle seed, impudenting me like that wid foolish questions."

"I'll be fifteen years old on my next birthday, and not two years old," replied the boy, "and I'm not any pickle seed either."

"Thunder and turf," howled the infuriated little leader of the fairy host. "Hey! Hey! and some more of your jibber jabber is it? Grow him, grow him! One leg at a time."

In an instant, without much trouble, the boy's left leg began to stretch and grow.

"Ye can have it a yard for every year you've lived, and if ye can't exist without some more of your yam jabbering at me, I'll make it twinty miles for each and every year."

All this was getting too much for poor Tom, and it almost made him sick when he saw his foot, very much enlarged, grow across the room, through the open door and out into the hall.


But he thought quietly to himself that when he was big all over he would be better able to squeeze the fairies into a corner, and perhaps gather them all in one hand, and he began to laugh to himself.

When the old fairy saw him smiling, he thought he must have made a big blunder somewhere and immediately ordered his men to let go, and back snapped the leg again to its proper length.

It was usually with teasing that these little fellows got most of their fun, and not often, unless trapped, would they resort to more severe measures.

Tom felt a little better now that he was back to his normal size and called to a little white and orange fairy to drop his tooth brush when he saw him polishing his shoes with it.



 But the more he remonstrated with them the worse they all behaved, throwing hair brushes, shoes, neckties and everything they could find, upside down and inside out.

Then with a great shout they all began to dance and sing. The old king standing on Tom's chest was the heartiest of them all with a rhythmical swaying, now backward, then forward, their feet moving too fast for the eye to follow.

Every few seconds the king would give a yelp that changed the steps of the dance, then he would jump way up in the air and come down on the boy's chest exactly in time with the music.

Though he was tied up and could not reach to brush the king off his chest, Tom could talk; still he had found that was anything but a help in his present plight, especially when he found that every word he uttered brought nothing but an added flogging.

Then quick as a flash Tom thought of a plan, and leaning forward he just whispered so that only the little king could hear him.

"Old odd shoe, I think I have YOU now, I've read all about you and I think I know your tricks and what to do with you. You have had your fun and now I think I am going to have mine. I'll keep my eye on just you no matter what you do to me and I've got you."

The rollicking reckless jovial old buck of a king stopped dancing at once and for several seconds stood staring at Tom, all the bravado oozing out of his brogues, as he stood there speechless.

His little eyes blazed, then softened and his face became pinched and distressed as he turned to the boy.

"Now what would ye do to a poor old fairy man who thinks the world of ye? Mightn't ye at least tell me the time o' day it might be getting to be, for a poor old uneddicated fairy man?"

But the Gordon Kid had sense enough to keep his eye right on the king and never a word would he say, for as everyone knows the fairy man is in your power as long as you keep your eye on him.

All silently and quickly the other fairies flew back into the book again and Tom knew they must be the DUINE SIGHE of which he had heard and read, and the little fellow that he had now under the spell of his eye was no other than the famous LEATH BHROG LEPRECHAUN who each night leads the fairy host from the legends of the good people in Ireland around the world for exercise and recreation. They will pester anyone they meet, yet with the same high spirit would do him a great favor. Leath Bhrog at last sat down on his little green hat and dusting off his crown slipped it back in his pocket.

Then, unconcerned like, he turned to the boy again, "Hey, hey. So it's that way the wind blows is it? Be done with this business now or you'll find there is both wood and stick in me fist that I'll be offering to you pretty soon."

Not a word did the boy say in reply, but as the old villain of a king crept up close to his nose and swung back his club with his face turned away Tom slipped his arm loose and caught the old leprechaun by the leg. He let a screech that might have been heard in three townlands if anyone had been awake, but luckily they were not.

"Thunder and turf, don't put me down. Thunder and turf, don't put me down," he howled. "Paustha, paustha! let me go. Ye win, I'll grant ye, but let me go."

But the boy still held on, knowing that if he so much as winked his captive would vanish.

"Yes, old shoe, you have found out my secret, I did want to grow and that is the reason that I was using those weights to help me, and now you have come with your men and spoiled it all for me. So I'm going to keep you here till sunrise or maybe you will do what I ask you to do now."

"Sure and I'll do ennytin' you want, but ye must have a lot more faith in me," said the leprechaun, for he was a little uneasy lest he be caught by the dawn, which would, he knew, be an everlasting embarrassment to him when he returned to the fairy-fort.

"Anny way, boy, ye have me head and pluck in the holler o' your hand, and I don't think you'll find me a very bad sort, aside from me boisterings and me strong humorousness. Have ye got the pluck inside of ye to take the chanst to try me out to suit yourself?"

"Yes, I think I will," said Tom soberly, and shut his eyes. When he opened them again, there stood the old fairy grinning up in his face.

"Now I think we understand each other better," said the king, as he polished his green silk hat on the sleeve of his coat. "And do you mind if I call you Tommy? Now, I really do like ye, and would be willin' to help ye in yer distress, if ye will let me know beforehand when the mornin' is about to break, for I must be on me way by then," mused on the king, now thoroughly at his ease with Tom.

"Now don't let the length of your legs bother ye any more, for ye have me promise to attend to that business for ye. Ye're only just wantin' to be he-sized I'm thinkin' ain't it?

"Whist Tommy, and have ye some more additional pluck to leave your troubles wid me intirely?" he whispered musingly, while he dusted his wings very carefully, then lit his pipe and with a nod of his fuzzy head dashed headlong into the book, glad to be free again.


* * * * *
The Gordon Kid awoke and it was morning. He examined his left foot very carefully, it looked all right to him as he took off the shoes and the shoulder braces and stood up. "Whew, I feel stiff and sore, and from the treatment of last night I guess, and I don't think I had better wear this any more."

 
He rubbed his back and it too felt sore in spots. "That was some night, believe me," he said to himself and went down to breakfast.

From that day Tom began to grow.

THE FORGETFUL POET

 

By Ruth Plumly Thompson 

Originally published in the Philadelphia Public Ledger, August 4, 1918.

Puzzles

The Forgetful Poet is at camp. I'm afraid the poor fellow is having a hard time. He's more used to talking than walking and to saying things than doing them.

At Camp!

I'm running on a schedule here
And doing things on time.
I have to be in place, just like
The last word in a ------?

6:45 when I am just
Beginning to sleep sound,
An old horn toots, I grab my boots
And jump up with a ------?

And prance out in the chilly wind
To wash, and 'fore I'm done,
The horn it toots me up a hill -
I take it on the ------?

And when the set-up drill is done
I breakfast like a king.
But sure as I'm a-restin' up
Some other bell will ------?

I'm runnin' here and runnin' there
And always out o' puff.
I spend the day somehow, someway.
I'm burned as brown as ------?

Last week's answers were:
1, horsefly; 2, sea horse; 3, star fish; 4, sunfish; 5, treetoad; 6, moonshine; 7, greensward.

[Answers next time.]

Copyright © 2008 Eric Shanower and David Maxine. All rights reserved.

SUPPOSYVILLE GOES TOBOGGANING

By Ruth Plumly Thompson
Author of Ozoplaning with the Wizard of Oz, The Wish Express, "King, King! Double King!", etc.

Originally published in the Philadelphia Public Ledger, January 20, 1918.


The snow is white and powdery on
Each road and lane and hill,
And gayly ring the sleigh-bells
In our old Supposyville.
Why, every day at 4 o'clock,
Well, what do you suppose?
Each lad and lass, each man and maid
Drops everything and goes
A-hustling to his Majesty's
Great white toboggan slide -
Sled strapped behind and in the mind
To take full many a ride.
Becapped and booted, sweatered, legginged,
Ready for the snow,
For spills and thrills, in daring, dauntless
Headlong flight they go!
The ministers all leave their books,
The King takes off his crown.
And now they all trudge up the hill,
And now they all swoop down.
And next a dozen take a header,
Landing in a drift;
For unexpected obstacles
Give sleds a sudden lift.
The Lord High Humpus of all Sports
Keeps tally of the tumbles
And way above the laughs and cheers
His booming count-up rumbles.
And those who for an hour have
Kept right-side up with care
Are given little prizes - pshaw,
I wish that we lived there!
A merry snowball battle brings
The coasting to a close.
Just nowhere in the world do folks
Have finer times - I 'spose!

THE FORGETFUL POET

 

By Ruth Plumly Thompson 

Originally published in the Philadelphia Public Ledger, July 28, 1918.

Puzzles

The Forgetful Poet's discoveries were truly amazing. The two spies were spider and spyglass, the fish in a cage was a perch, the pearl a purl in a sweater, the wag not on a tail but on a wagon, the hammer that sang was a bird called the yellow-hammer, diamonds--baseball diamond and bat.

His new verses are quite as comical as usual, but he never can puzzle all of my dears and ducks.

Wise Saws

A horse that bit me,
Yet who wore no bit--
Another one who swam
And relished it!

I saw two other
Creatures of the sea,
Related to the sky--
Besides a tree

That did not grow;
A moon that really shone
And yet was nothing
But a fancy ______.

A sword, I saw
With twenty million blades--
Between two sheltered,
Wooded forest glades.

[Answers next time.]

Copyright © 2008 Eric Shanower and David Maxine. All rights reserved.

THE ENCHANTED TYPES

By L. Frank Baum
Author of The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, The Secret of the Lost Fortune, The Visitors from Oz, etc.

Originally published in American Fairy Tales, 1901.


One time a knook became tired of his beautiful life and longed for something new to do. The knooks have more wonderful powers than any other immortal folk - except, perhaps, the fairies and ryls. So one would suppose that a knook who might gain anything he desired by a simple wish could not be otherwise than happy and contented. But such was not the case with Popopo, the knook we are speaking of. He had lived thousands of years, and had enjoyed all the wonders he could think of. Yet life had become as tedious to him now as it might be to one who was unable to gratify a single wish.

Finally, by chance, Popopo thought of the earth people who dwell in cities, and so he resolved to visit them and see how they lived. This would surely be fine amusement, and serve to pass away many wearisome hours.

Therefore one morning, after a breakfast so dainty that you could scarcely imagine it, Popopo set out for the earth and at once was in the midst of a big city.

His own dwelling was so quiet and peaceful that the roaring noise of the town startled him. His nerves were so shocked that before he had looked around three minutes he decided to give up the adventure, and instantly returned home.

This satisfied for a time his desire to visit the earth cities, but soon the monotony of his existence again made him restless and gave him another thought. At night the people slept and the cities would be quiet. He would visit them at night.

So at the proper time Popopo transported himself in a jiffy to a great city, where he began wandering about the streets. Everyone was in bed. No wagons rattled along the pavements; no throngs of busy men shouted and halloaed. Even the policemen slumbered slyly and there happened to be no prowling thieves abroad.

His nerves being soothed by the stillness, Popopo began to enjoy himself. He entered many of the houses and examined their rooms with much curiosity. Locks and bolts make no difference to a knook, and he saw as well in darkness as in daylight.

After a time he strolled into the business portion of the city. Stores are unknown among the immortals, who have no need of money or of barter and exchange; so Popopo was greatly interested by the novel sight of so many collections of goods and merchandise.

During his wanderings he entered a millinery shop, and was surprised to see within a large glass case a great number of women's hats, each bering in one position or another a stuffed bird. Indeed, some of the most elaborate hats had two or three birds upon them.

Now knooks are the especial guardians of birds, and love them dearly. To see so many of his little friends shut up in a glass case annoyed and grieved Popopo, who had no idea they had purposely been placed upon the hats by the milliner. So he slid back one of the doors of the case, gave the little chirruping whistle of the knooks that all birds know well, and called:

"Come, friends; the door is open - fly out!"

Popopo did not know the birds were stuffed; but, stuffed or not, every bird is bound to obey a knook's whistle and a knook's call. So they left the hats, flew out of the case and began fluttering about the room.

"Poor dears!" said the kind-hearted knook, "you long to be in the fields and forests again."

Then he opened the outer door for them and cried: "Off with you! Fly away, my beauties, and be happy again."

The astonished birds at once obeyed, and when they had soared away into the night air the knook closed the door and continued his wandering through the streets.

By dawn he saw many interesting sights, but day broke before he had finished the city, and he resolved to come the next evening a few hours earlier.

As soon as it was dark the following day he came again to the city and on passing the millinery shop noticed a light within. Entering he found two women, one of who leaned her head upon the table and sobbed bitterly, while the other strove to comfort her.

Of course Popopo was invisible to mortal eyes, so he stood by and listened to their conversation.

"Cheer up, sister," said one. "Even though your pretty birds have all been stolen the hats themselves remain."

"Alas!" cried the other, who was the milliner, "no one will buy my hats partly trimmed, for the fashion is to wear birds upon them. And if I cannot sell my goods I shall be utterly ruined."

Then she renewed her sobbing and the knook stole away, feeling a little ashamed to realize that in his love for the birds he had unconsciously wronged one of the earth people and made her unhappy.

This thought brought him back to the millinery shop later in the night, when the two women had gone home. He wanted, in some way, to replace the birds upon the hats, that the poor woman might be happy again. So he searched until he came upon a nearby cellar full of little gray mice, who lived quite undisturbed and gained livelihood by gnawing through the walls into neighboring houses and stealing food from the pantries.

"Here are just the creatures," thought Popopo, "to place upon the woman's hats. Their fur is almost as soft as the plumage of the birds, and it strikes me the mice are remarkably pretty and graceful animals. Moreover, they now pass their lives in stealing, and were they obliged to remain always upon women's hats, their morals would be much improved."

So he exercised a charm that drew all the mice from the cellar and placed them upon the hats in the glass case, where they occupied the places the birds had vacated and looked very becoming - at least, in the eyes of the unworldly knook. To prevent their running about and leaving the hats Popopo rendered them motionless, and then he was so pleased with his work that he decided to remain in the shop and witness the delight of the milliner when she saw how daintily her hats were now trimmed.

She came in the early morning, accompanied by her sister, and her face wore a sad and resigned expression. After sweeping and dusting the shop and drawing the blinds she opened the glass case and took out a hat.

But when she saw a tiny gray mouse nestling among the ribbons and laces she gave a loud shriek, and, dropping the hat, sprang with one bound to the top of the table. The sister, knowing the shriek to be one of fear, leaped upon a chair and exclaimed:

"What is it! Oh! what is it!?"

"A mouse!" gasped the milliner, trembling with terror.

Popopo, seeing this commotion, now realized that mice are especially disagreeable to human beings, and that he had made a grave mistake in placing them upon the hats; se he gave a low whistle of command that was heard only by the mice.

Instantly they all jumped from the hats, dashed out the open door of the glass case and scampered away to their cellar. But this action so frightened the milliner and her sister that after giving several loud screams they fell upon their backs on the floor and fainted away.

Popopo was a kind-hearted knook, but on witnessing all this misery, caused by his own ignorance of the ways of humans, he straightway wished himself at home, and so left the poor women to recover as best they could.

Yet he could not escape a sad feeling of responsibility and after thinking upon the matter he decided that since he had caused the milliner's unhappiness by freeing the birds, he could set the matter right by restoring them to the glass case. He loved the birds, and disliked to condemn them to slavery again; but that seemed the only way to end the trouble.

So he set off to find the birds. They had flown a long distance, but it was nothing to Popopo to reach them in a second, and he discovered them sitting upon the branches of a big chestnut tree and singing gayly.

When the saw the knook the birds cried:

"Thank you Popopo. Thank you for setting us free."

"Do not thank me," returned the knook, "for I have come to send you back to the millinery shop."

"Why?" demanded a blue gay, angrily, while the others stopped their songs.

"Because I find the woman considers you her property, and your loss has caused her much unhappiness," answered Popopo.

"But remember how unhappy we were in her glass case," said a robin redbreast, gravely. "And as for being her property, you are a knook, and the natural guardian of all birds; so you know that Nature created us free. To be sure, wicked men shot and stuffed us, and sold us to the milliner; but the idea of one being her property is nonsense!"

Popopo was puzzled.

"If I leave you free," he said, "wicked men will shoot you again, and you will be no better off than before."

"Pooh!" exclaimed the blue jay, "we cannot be shot now, for we are stuffed Indeed, two men fired several shots at us this morning, but the bullets only ruffled our feathers and buried themselves in our stuffing. We do not fear men now."

"Listen!" said Popopo, sternly, for he felt the birds were getting the best of the argument; "the poor milliner's business will be ruined if I do not return you to her shop. It seems you are necessary to trim the hats properly. It is the fashion for women to wear birds upon their headgear. So the poor milliner's wares, although beautified by lace and ribbons, are worthless unless you are perched upon them."

"Fashions," said a black bird, solemnly, "are made by men. What law is there, among birds or knooks, that requires us to be the slaves of fashion?"

"What have we to do with fashions, anyway?" screamed a linnet. "If it we the fashion to wear knooks perched upon women's hats would you be contented to stay there? Answer me, Popopo!"

But Popopo was in despair. He could not wrong the birds by sending them back to the milliner, nor did he wish the milliner to suffer by their loss. So he went home to think what could be done.

After much meditation he decided to consult the king of the knooks, and going at once to his majesty he told him the whole story.

The king frowned.

"This should teach you the folly of interfering with earth people." He said. "But since you have caused all this trouble, it is your duty to remedy it. Our birds cannot be enslaved, that is certain; therefore you must have the fashions changed, so it will no longer be stylish for women to wear birds upon their hats."

"How shall I do that?" asked Popopo.

"Easily enough. Fashions often change among the earth people, who tire quickly of any one thing. When they read in the newspapers and magazines that the style is so-and-so, they never question the matter, but at once obey the mandate of fashion. So you must visit the newspapers and magazines and enchant the types."

"Enchant the types!" echoed Popopo, in wonder.

"Just so. Make them read that it is no longer the fashion to wear birds upon hats. That will afford relief to your poor milliner and at the same time set free thousands of our darling birds who have been so cruelly used."

Popopo thanked the wise king and followed his advice.

The office of every newspaper and magazine in the city was visited by the knook, and then he went to other cities, until there was not a publication in the land that had not a "new fashion note" in its pages. Sometimes Popopo enchanted the types, so that whoever read the print would see only what the knook wished them to. Sometimes he called upon the busy editors and befuddled their brains until they wrote exactly what he wanted them to. Mortals seldom know how greatly they are influenced by fairies, knooks and ryls, who often put thoughts into their heads that only the wise little immortals could have conceived.

The following morning when the poor milliner looked over her newspaper she was overjoyed to read that "no woman could now wear a bird upon her hat and be in style, for the newest fashion required only ribbons and laces."

Popopo after this found much enjoyment in visiting every millinery shop he could find and giving new life to the stuffed birds which were carelessly tossed aside as useless. And they flew to the fields and forests with songs of thanks to the good knook who had rescued them.

Sometimes a hunter fires his gun at a bird and then wonders why he did not hit it. But, having read this story, you will understand that the bird must have been a stuffed one from some millinery shop, which cannot, of course, be killed by a gun.

THE FORGETFUL POET

 

By Ruth Plumly Thompson 

Originally published in the Philadelphia Public Ledger, July 14, 1918.

The Puzzle Corner

Mr. G. Ography's puzzles puzzled quite a number of you. I even had trouble with them myself. The correct answers he says are: Nome, Picardy, Tokio, Maine, Vienna, Rye and the Balkan States.

The Forgetful Poet, sends these verses from a place which he forgot to put in his letter.

Some Remarkable Seirevocsid!

I found two spies to my surprise
And one I saw through clearly--
The other one was hanging,
And he terrified me, nearly!

A fish I saw within a cage,
A pearl that caused dismay,
A wag that wasn't on a tail--
Nor didn't joke--a day

That wasn't time--a hammer
That could sing--and after that
A diamond in the dust and near
An entertaining bat!

The titles of his verses seem a little strange, don't they?

[Answers next time.]

Copyright © 2007 Eric Shanower and David Maxine. All rights reserved.

THE AMAZING ADVENTURES OF DORABELLE

By Ruth Plumly Thompson
Author of Ozoplaning with the Wizard of Oz, "The Wizard of Pumperdink", "King, King! Double King!", etc.

Originally published in the Philadelphia Public Ledger, January 9 and 16, 1916.


"Now, I wonder which way I came?" said Dorabelle, looking around anxiously. "Oh, dear, I wish I had stayed with the others. If I hadn't run so far after that butterfly I shouldn't have lost myself, and if I hadn't have lost myself, I shouldn't have been so sleepy - and if - " The third if was quite swallowed up in a terrible yawn, such a "HA-HO HUMM!" sort of an affair that a squirrel who had been watching her from a tree immediately yawned too - indeed, yawned three, to be perfectly correct.

"I'll just sit down a minute and maybe they will find me!" said the little girl, leaning drowsily against a tree trunk. And then, what do you suppose she did? Fell asleep, dears and ducks, that's what! It grew darker and darker - (it had been going-home time when Dorabelle ran away from the picnic party), but still she slept sound on the forest ground and NEVER heard the voices calling and calling her. After awhile they stopped, the moon put on her yellow dress and looked out of the sky window. Everything was still.

Then, all at once, on a stone near Dorabelle's head, there sounded a tap, tap, tapping. Farthings and six-pence! Next thing the stone was pushed aside and OUT sprang a little brown goblin and after him another and another and another and another till the place just swarmed with 'em.

"What's this?" cried the first goblin, holding his lantern close to Dorabelle's face.

"A cow, a pig! A lump of a pig has got into our magic circle," screeched another, falling over Dorabelle's foot and smashing his lantern to bits.

"A cow, a pig!" shrieked the rest, tumbling over each other in a mad scramble to get closer. Oh, the confusion was terrible!

"Ho, you, above there!" called an angry voice right in the midst of the excitement. "Is the pot boiling?" The next minute out hopped another goblin. He had a crown on his head. I think he must have been king, for the others immediately began smoothing down their leather aprons and picking up their tools, their little hammers and axes.

"If your Majesty pleases," began one apologetically, "a thing has got into our way!"

"It's a human!" grumbled the king, walking up to Dorabelle and feeling her dress.

" 'Twill make good waist-coats and breeches," he muttered under his breath - "Yo - Scrimp!" A crooked little goblin separated himself from the others. "Measure us for breeches and waistcoats," growled the King, "and don't stand gaping there!"

The little goblin hurriedly pulled out a tape measure and, beginning with the King, measured away for dear life. Now the King helped himself to Dorabelle's work bag and the others, following his example, began taking whatever pleased them. One unlaced her shoe and began jumping rope with the shoe lace, another jerked greedily at her necklace - and that awakened her.

"Mercy!" cried Dorabelle sitting up so suddenly that a dozen bowled over, "where am I?"

At this the goblins fled in great confusion - all except the King - "and this will make me a good milkpail," said he calmly taking her silver thimble out of the work bag and polishing it upon his jacket.

Although Dorabelle was almost scared out of her wits - the idea of her thimble as a milkpail was so funny that she burst out laughing.

"Stop it! Stop it!" shrieked the King, hopping up and down with his fingers in his ears - as for the others they writhed about as if they had the toothache, at which Dorabelle's laughter ended in a little gasp of surprise - then a queer rustle from behind the tree attracted her attention.

There, with his long ears twitching nervously, stood a rabbit in a checkered sweater. "Oh, dear! Oh, my! Whatever'll I do?" he was murmuring under has breath. "If Jan were only here - what mischief are they up to now?" He looked like such a jolly little chap that Dorabelle felt she must call to him. But before she could utter a word he had disappeared into the shadows.

Turning around, she saw that the goblins had withdrawn to a stump, where they were talking excitedly among themselves. "She must be reduced!" the King was saying in a loud voice. At this he raised his queer little club and as he did so she felt a strange tickling in her feet.

"Mercy!" cried Dorabelle - this time in real alarm. No wonder. Her feet were slowly coming up toward her knees. She watched them in fascinated silence.

A sudden stir among the goblins made her look up. The one called Scrimp was whispering earnestly in the King's ear. "Has your Majesty forgotten the waistcoats?"

"The waistcoats! I'd forgotten them. 'Twould never do to reduce the waistcoats," said the King, letting his club drop to his side again. The minute it dropped Dorabelle's feet stopped in their journey toward her knees (they were just about half way). Now the goblin Scrimp rushed toward her with his shears and began snipping away pieces of her dress and cutting out breeches and waistcoats as if his life depended upon it.

Afraid lest she be reduced - and not sure just how FAR - Dorabelle dared not interfere. "What WILL become of me!" she thought in dismay.

Soon the whole front of her dress was cut away and fifty goblin waistcoats and fifty pairs of goblin breeches lay in a neat pile beside her. Don't imagine the others were idle all this time. Mercy no! Hither and thither they ran on their crooked little legs and soon had a roaring fire going. They brought a great black pot and hung it over the fire on a crane. Into this they tossed little chunks of gold that they carried up their secret stairway under the stone. It was all so queer and exciting that Dorabelle forgot how frightened she was.

"What are you doing?" she called in an interested voice.

Immediately the goblins stopped and scowled at her. "She must be reduced!" screeched the goblin King again. "Scrimp, are you done cutting there?"

"Yes, your Majesty!" said the little tailor goblin folding up his tape measure.

"I'll not be reduced!" screamed Dorabelle in a panic. Jumping to her feet, she started to run away, but try as she might she could not move. A hundred invisible hands held her motionless. All the goblins were stamping and hopping about her in a circle and the more they stamped and hopped the queerer she felt. She was shrinking - that's what she was doing. Yes - really! Smaller and smaller she grew till at last she was no bigger than a goblin herself.

Before she had caught her breath - and shrinking takes away your breath quicker than anything I can think of - the goblin King caught her by the arm. "You are under arrest for trespassing!" said he sternly. He clapped his hands three times and Dorabelle heard a clanking and shuffling. Something was coming up the goblin stairway.

It was a mole! Yawning and stretching, he dragged himself out of the hole. He had a great bunch of keys at his waist. Dorabelle had often seen moles before - "but I never knew they were so large," she remarked uneasily to herself. You see she had forgotten that it was SHE who was LITTLE.

"Lock her up!" said the goblin King, with a jerk of his thumb at Dorabelle. "She can make waistcoats and breeches and darn stockings," he added half aloud.

"Ha - ho hum!" yawned the mole; "Come along here!" He took Dorabelle by the arm and started off toward the stairway.

There didn"t seem to be anything to do but come - and anyway Dorabelle was not so much afraid of the mole as of the goblins. "I'll pinch him when I get a good chance," she thought comfortingly to herself, "and then I'll run - and - "

By this time they had reached the stairway and it took all her attention to keep from falling on her head. Down - down - down the crooked little stairs they went - the only light being that of the mole's lantern. After them came the tailor goblin with his pile of breeches and waistcoats. Down, down - and still down, went the mole - Dorabelle clinging frantically to his coat tails. She gave up the notion of pinching him, "for if I pinched him he'd drop the lantern - and if he'd drop the lantern I'd be in the dark and maybe fall down a thousand steps and like as not never be heard of."

At last, after she thought she could not possibly go another step - at last, after winding round and round and in and out and up and down - they came to a little door in the rock.

The next minute the mole had unlocked the door and thrust her into a tiny room. He set the lamp on the table - the tailor goblin dumped the pile of breeches and waistcoats on the floor and handed her his scissors, thread and thimble. "Mind you have 'em done by tomorrow," he snapped. Then they both went out and locked the door behind them. She could hear their feet thudding away off down the passage.

"Come back! Come back!" screamed Dorabelle, hammering on the door as hard as she could. "Oh, dear - I wonder whether they will bring me anything to eat?" (She had not had any supper, you know.) In answer to her query, she heard the mole shuffling back. Then a card was pushed under the door. Taking it over to the lamp, she read, "Breakfast will be served in one year!" THINK of it!

"One year!" gasped Dorabelle in dismay, "why, I'll starve!" At which dismal prospect she sank down upon the waistcoats and began to weep bitterly. But one cannot weep forever, especially when one is tremendously curious, so after a time Dorabelle dried her eyes and picked up the card again. "One year - why, goblins live for thousands and thousands of years, and I guess they couldn't afford to eat very often," she reflected sadly. Then she looked at the pile of waistcoats that were to be finished before morning - and they set her thinking of the Queen in her fairy-tale book who had to spin whole rooms full of straw into gold. "She didn't have any worse time than I am having - why, I believe I have gotten into a fairy tale myself!" she exclaimed suddenly in a rather pleased voice. "And if I have - why, something will surely happen." Dears and ducks - it did! For at that very minute - scratch-scrape - scratch! went something against the opposite wall of the room. Now, I wonder - !

The little girl crouched back as far as she could against the damp wall of the room. The scratching grew louder every minute. Plaster and stones came tumbling down. At last a big piece of the wall fell out and through the opening came a head. "It's the rabbit!" gasped Dorabelle, taking her hands down from her ears. And sure enough, it was the rabbit she had seen for a minute behind the tree. "Nice way to treat a body," he grumbled, climbing into the room and dusting off his fur trousers and checked sweater with a silk handkerchief. "Are you ready to go?"

"Oh, yes, please!" cried Dorabelle, clasping her hands and running eagerly forward. "Can we get out?"

"Not very polite of her to want to go when I have just come!" muttered the rabbit to himself. He stood dejectedly pulling his whiskers and Dorabelle, who had overheard his last remark, hastened to add, "Of course, I am ready to go - if you are!"

"That's just the point," muttered the rabbit. "Am I ready to go? You see, I've just come and it's according to how it goes whether I'll go or not and should one come and go in one sentence?"

"I don't know what you're talking about!" said Dorabelle crossly, "and I don't believe you know yourself!"

"She don't believe I know myself!" repeated the rabbit in a troubled voice. "I say, do you play checkers?"

"Why, yes, of course! But I don't see what that had to do with it!" The rabbit cheered up tremendously at this and immediately took off his checked sweater and spread it carefully on the floor. Then he felt in his pockets and brought out a handful of checkers.

"He's perfectly silly," reasoned Dorabelle to herself, "but I might just as well play and it's better having him here than being here alone!" So she sat down on the floor and then both lined up their checkers ready to start!

"You go - " Before the rabbit finished his sentence a hundred feet pattered down the passageway and a hundred fists beat upon the door.

"The goblins!" screamed Dorabelle, jumping to her feet!

" - first!"inished the rabbit composedly paying no attention to the racket in the passageway. "Your move!" he continued, twitching his ears and wiggling his nose.

"My move - I should say it was my move!" cried Dorabelle, and rushing toward the opening through which the rabbit had come, she scattered the checkers in every direction.

No sooner had her foot touched the first checker than everything grew dark. She could hear the rabbit scrambling about and the goblins hammering on the door. Then everything grew still again and she opened her eyes!

"Dorabelle! Dorabelle! Wake up! We've been hunting for you everywhere!" called her mother's voice in her ear! There she was, under the big tree in the woods, just where she had fallen asleep.

THE FORGETFUL POET

 

By Ruth Plumly Thompson 

Originally published in the Philadelphia Public Ledger, July 14, 1918.

Mr. G. Ography's Riddles

The Forgetful Poet sent me a letter from the mountains begging me to excuse him from riddles this week. He said that Mr. G. Ography would no doubt be pleased to forward some. I immediately wrote to the old fellow, and in the next mail received the following:

What little elf will give a northern city?

A tool and two letters of the alphabet will give a great battlefield in the present war.

Part of the foot, something used indoors and one more letter will give what city of the Orient?

What state of the United States is found on a tropical animal?

Three letters of the alphabet will give a city of one of our enemies.

A well-known grain will give a New York town.

And something that bounces and something used to preserve will give some states.

I wonder if you can guess all those places Mr. G. Ography has mentioned?

Last week's puzzle answers were: Tree, Pants and Cold.

[Answers next time.]

Copyright © 2007 Eric Shanower and David Maxine. All rights reserved.

THE TALE OF A ROMANTIC RIDE IN TOYLAND

By John R. Neill
Author of The Runaway in Oz, The Wonder City of Oz, Lucky Bucky in Oz, etc.

Originally published in the Philadelphia North American, December 3, 1905.

Click image to enlarge.

 

THE FORGETFUL POET

 

By Ruth Plumly Thompson 

Originally published in the Philadelphia Public Ledger, July 7, 1918.

Selzzup

The Forgetful Poet handed me his verses headed by the above.
Never heard of such a thing - did you? Ah, well, we must excuse the dear fellow.
It is hard to keep one's headpiece working this hot weather.

Gnipmac

The joys of camping often
Have been highly praised to me,
But I'm afraid that in the woods
I'd take root like a ------,

And then, you know, the insects
Get so personal; the ants
Mix with the food - and burrs and briars
Tear up one's coat and ------.

The skeeters do their little bit
Or bites - 'm far too old
For roughing it, besides I always
Catch a grippy ------.
(Poor thing.)

Last week's answers were: 1. Putt; 2. Net; 3. Way.

[Answers next time.]

Copyright © 2007 Eric Shanower and David Maxine. All rights reserved.