WEAVING THE MAGIC CLOAK.
QUEEN ZIXI OF IX
Or, the Story of the Magic Cloak
BY
L. FRANK BAUM
AUTHOR OF “THE WIZARD OF OZ”
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY
FREDERICK RICHARDSON
TORONTO
THE COPP, CLARK COMPANY
LIMITED
1905
Copyright, 1904, 1905, by
L. FRANK BAUM
All Rights Reserved
Published October, 1905
PRESS OF BRAUNWORTH & CO.
BOOKBINDERS AND PRINTERS, BROOKLYN, N. Y.
FULL PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS IN THREE COLORS
BY THE DE VINNE PRESS
TO MY SON
FRANK JOSLYN BAUM
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I. [The Weaving of the Magic Cloak] 3 CHAPTER II. [The Book of Laws] 17 CHAPTER III. [The Gift of the Magic Cloak] 29 CHAPTER IV. [King Bud of Noland] 43 CHAPTER V. [Princess Fluff] 55 CHAPTER VI. [Bud Dispenses Justice] 67 CHAPTER VII. [The Wings of Aunt Rivette] 81 CHAPTER VIII. [The Royal Reception] 93 CHAPTER IX. [Jikki has a Wish Granted] 107 CHAPTER X. [The Counselors Wear the Magic Cloak] 117 CHAPTER XI. [The Witch-Queen] 137 CHAPTER XII. [Zixi Disguises Herself] 149 CHAPTER XIII. [Tullydub Rescues the Kingdom] 158 CHAPTER XIV. [The Rout of the Army of Ix] 173 CHAPTER XV. [The Theft of the Magic Cloak] 181 CHAPTER XVI. [The Plain Above the Clouds] 198 CHAPTER XVII. [The Descent of the Roly-Rogues] 205 CHAPTER XVIII. [The Conquest of Noland] 214 CHAPTER XIX. [The Bravery of Aunt Rivette] 227 CHAPTER XX. [In the Palace of the Witch-Queen] 240 CHAPTER XXI. [The Search for the Magic Cloak] 251 CHAPTER XXII. [Ruffles Carries the Silver Vial] 271 CHAPTER XXIII. [The Destruction of the Monsters] 279 CHAPTER XXIV. [The Sailorman’s Return] 289 CHAPTER XXV. [The Fairy-Queen] 298
QUEEN ZIXI OF IX;
OR, THE STORY OF THE MAGIC CLOAK.
Chapter I.
THE WEAVING OF THE MAGIC CLOAK.
The fairies assembled one moonlit night in a pretty clearing of the ancient forest of Burzee.
The clearing was in the form of a circle, and all around stood giant oak and fir trees, while in the center the grass grew green and soft as velvet. If any mortal had ever penetrated so far into the great forest, and could have looked upon the fairy circle by daylight, he might perhaps have seen a tiny path worn in the grass by the feet of the dancing elves. For here, during the full of the moon, the famous fairy band, ruled by good Queen Lulea, loved to dance and make merry while the silvery rays flooded the clearing and caused their gauzy wings to sparkle with every color of the rainbow.
On this especial night, however, they were not dancing. For the queen had seated herself upon a little green mound, and while her band clustered about her she began to address the fairies in a tone of discontent.
“I am tired of dancing, my dears,” said she. “Every evening since the moon grew big and round we have come here to frisk about and laugh and disport ourselves; and although those are good things to keep the heart light, one may grow weary even of merrymaking. So I ask you to suggest some new way to divert both me and yourselves during this night.”
“That is a hard task,” answered one pretty sprite, opening and folding her wings slowly—as a lady toys with her fan. “We have lived through so many ages that we long ago exhausted everything that might be considered a novelty, and of all our recreations nothing gives us such continued pleasure as dancing.”
“But I do not care to dance to-night!” replied Lulea, with a little frown.
“We might create something, by virtue of our fairy powers,” suggested one who reclined at the feet of the queen.
“Ah, that is just the idea!” exclaimed the dainty Lulea, with brightening countenance. “Let us create something. But what?”
“I have heard,” remarked another member of the band, “of a thinking-cap having been made by some fairies in America. And whatever mortal wore this thinking-cap was able to conceive the most noble and beautiful thoughts.”
“That was indeed a worthy creation,” cried the little queen. “What became of the cap?”
“The man who received it was so afraid some one else would get it and be able to think the same exquisite thoughts as himself that he hid it safely away—so safely that he himself never could think afterward where he had placed it.”
“How unfortunate! But we must not make another thinking-cap, lest it meet a like fate. Cannot you suggest something, else?”
“I have heard,” said another, “of certain fairies who created a pair of enchanted boots, which would always carry their mortal wearer away from danger—and never into it.”
“What a great boon to those blundering mortals!” cried the queen. “And whatever became of the boots?”
“They came at last into the possession of a great general who did not know their powers. So he wore them into battle one day, and immediately ran away, followed by all his men, and the fight was won by the enemy.”
“But did not the general escape danger?”
“Yes—at the expense of his reputation. So he retired to a farm and wore out the boots tramping up and down a country road and trying to decide why he had suddenly become such a coward.”
“The boots were worn by the wrong man, surely,” said the queen; “and that is why they proved a curse rather than a blessing. But we want no enchanted boots. Think of something else.”
“Suppose we weave a magic cloak,” proposed Espa, a sweet little fairy who had not before spoken.
“A cloak? Indeed, we might easily weave that,” returned the queen. “But what sort of magic powers must it possess?”
“Let its wearer have any wish instantly fulfilled,” said Espa, brightly.
“‘SUPPOSE WE WEAVE A MAGIC CLOAK.’”
But at this there arose quite a murmur of protest on all sides, which the queen immediately silenced with a wave of her royal hand.
“Our sister did not think of the probable consequences of what she suggested,” declared Lulea, smiling into the downcast face of little Espa, who seemed to feel rebuked by the disapproval of the others. “An instant’s reflection would enable her to see that such power would give the cloak’s mortal wearer as many privileges as we ourselves possess. And I suppose you intended the magic cloak for a mortal wearer?” she inquired.
“Yes,” answered Espa, shyly; “that was my intention.”
“But the idea is good, nevertheless,” continued the queen, “and I propose we devote this evening to weaving the magic cloak. Only, its magic shall give to its wearer the fulfilment of but one wish; and I am quite sure that even that should prove a great boon to the helpless mortals.”
“Suppose more than one person wears the cloak,” one of the band said; “which then shall have the one wish fulfilled?”
The queen devoted a moment to thought, and then replied:
“Each possessor of the magic cloak may have one wish granted, provided the cloak is not stolen from its last wearer. In that case the magic power will not be exercised on behalf of the thief.”
“But should there not be a limit to the number of the cloak’s wearers?” asked the fairy lying at the queen’s feet.
“I think not. If used properly our gift will prove of great value to mortals. And if we find it is misused we can at any time take back the cloak and revoke its magic power. So now, if we are all agreed upon this novel amusement, let us set to work.”
At these words the fairies sprang up eagerly; and their queen, smiling upon them, waved her wand toward the center of the clearing. At once a beautiful fairy loom appeared in the space. It was not such a loom as mortals use. It consisted of a large and a small ring of gold, supported by a tall pole of jasper. The entire band danced around it thrice, the fairies carrying in each hand a silver shuttle wound with glossy filaments finer than the finest silk. And the threads on each shuttle appeared a different hue from those of all the other shuttles.
At a sign from the queen they one and all approached the golden loom and fastened an end of thread in its warp. Next moment they were gleefully dancing hither and thither, while the silver shuttles flew swiftly from hand to hand and the gossamer-like web began to grow upon the loom.
Presently the queen herself took part in the sport, and the thread she wove into the fabric was the magical one which was destined to give the cloak its wondrous power.
Long and swiftly the fairy band worked beneath the old moon’s rays, while their feet tripped gracefully over the grass and their joyous laughter tinkled like silver bells and awoke the echoes of the grim forest surrounding them. And at last they paused and threw themselves upon the green with little sighs of content. For the shuttles and loom had vanished; the work was complete; and Queen Lulea stood upon the mound holding in her hand the magic cloak.
The garment was as beautiful as it was marvelous—each and every hue of the rainbow glinted and sparkled from the soft folds; and while it was light in weight as swan’s-down, its strength was so great that the fabric was well-nigh indestructible.
The fairy band regarded it with great satisfaction, for every one had assisted in its manufacture and could admire with pardonable pride its glossy folds.
“It is very lovely, indeed!” cried little Espa. “But to whom shall we present it?”
The question aroused a dozen suggestions, each fairy seeming to favor a different mortal. Every member of this band, as you doubtless know, was the unseen guardian of some man or woman or child in the great world beyond the forest, and it was but natural that each should wish her own ward have the magic cloak.
While they thus disputed, another fairy joined them and pressed to the side of the queen.
“Welcome, Ereol,” said Lulea. “You are late.”
The new-comer was very lovely in appearance, and with her fluffy golden hair and clear blue eyes was marvelously fair to look upon. In a low, grave voice she answered the queen:
“Yes, your Majesty, I am late. But I could not help it. The old King of Noland, whose guardian I have been since his birth, has passed away this evening, and I could not bear to leave him until the end came.”
“So the old king is dead at last!” said the queen, thoughtfully. “He was a good man, but woefully uninteresting; and he must have wearied you greatly at times, my sweet Ereol.”
“‘YES, YOUR MAJESTY, I AM LATE.’”
“All mortals are, I think, wearisome,” returned the fairy, with a sigh.
“And who is the new King of Noland?” asked Lulea.
“There is none,” answered Ereol. “The old king died without a single relative to succeed to his throne, and his five high counselors were in a great dilemma when I came away.”
“Well, my dear, you may rest and enjoy yourself for a period, in order to regain your old lightsome spirits. By and by I will appoint you guardian to some newly born babe, that your duties may be less arduous. But I am sorry you were not with us to-night, for we have had rare sport. See! we have woven a magic cloak.”
Ereol examined the garment with pleasure.
“And who is to wear it?” she asked.
Then again arose the good-natured dispute as to which mortal in all the world should possess the magic cloak. Finally the queen, laughing at the arguments of her band, said to them:
“Come! Let us leave the decision to the Man in the Moon. He has been watching us with a great deal of amusement, and once, I am sure, I caught him winking at us in quite a roguish way.”
At this every head was turned toward the moon; and then a man’s face, full-bearded and wrinkled, but with a jolly look upon the rough features, appeared sharply defined upon the moon’s broad surface.
“So I’m to decide another dispute, eh?” said he, in a clear voice. “Well, my dears, what is it this time?”
“We wish you to say what mortal shall wear the magic cloak which I and the ladies of my court have woven,” replied Queen Lulea.
“Give it to the first unhappy person you meet,” said the Man in the Moon. “The happy mortals have no need of magic cloaks.” And with this advice the friendly face of the Man in the Moon faded away until only the outlines remained visible against the silver disk.
The queen clapped her hands delightedly.
“‘GIVE IT TO THE FIRST UNHAPPY PERSON YOU MEET.’”
“Our Man in the Moon is very wise,” she declared; “and we shall follow his suggestion. Go, Ereol, since you are free for a time, and carry the magic cloak to Noland. And the first person you meet who is really unhappy, be it man, woman, or child, shall receive from you the cloak as a gift from our fairy band.”
Ereol bowed, and folded the cloak over her arm.
“Come, my children,” continued Lulea; “the moon is hiding behind the tree-tops, and it is time for us to depart.”
“SAID THE MAN IN THE MOON.”
A moment later the fairies had disappeared, and the clearing wherein they had danced and woven the magic cloak lay shrouded in deepest gloom.
JIKKI.
Chapter II.
THE BOOK OF LAWS.
On this same night great confusion and excitement prevailed among the five high counselors of the kingdom of Noland. The old king was dead and there was none to succeed him as ruler of the country. He had outlived every one of his relatives, and since the crown had been in this one family for generations, it puzzled the high counselors to decide upon a fitting successor.
These five high counselors were very important men. It was said that they ruled the kingdom while the king ruled them; which made it quite easy for the king and rather difficult for the people. The chief counselor was named Tullydub. He was old and very pompous, and had a great respect for the laws of the land. The next in rank was Tollydob, the lord high general of the king’s army. The third was Tillydib, the lord high purse-bearer. The fourth was Tallydab, the lord high steward. And the fifth and last of the high counselors was Tellydeb, the lord high executioner.
These five had been careful not to tell the people when the old king had become ill, for they feared being annoyed by many foolish questions. They sat in a big room next the bed-chamber of the king, in the royal palace of Nole,—which is the capital city of Noland,—and kept every one out except the king’s physician, who was half blind and wholly dumb and could not gossip with outsiders had he wanted to. And while the high counselors sat and waited for the king to recover or die, as he might choose, Jikki waited upon them and brought them their meals.
Jikki was the king’s valet and principal servant. He was as old as any of the five high counselors; but they were all fat, whereas Jikki was wonderfully lean and thin; and the counselors were solemn and dignified, whereas Jikki was terribly nervous and very talkative.
“Beg pardon, my masters,” he would say every five minutes, “but do you think his Majesty will get well?” And then, before any of the high counselors could collect themselves to answer, he continued: “Beg pardon, but do you think his Majesty will die?” And the next moment he would say: “Beg pardon, but do you think his Majesty is any better or any worse?”
And all this was so annoying to the high counselors that several times one of them took up some object in the room with the intention of hurling it at Jikki’s head; but before he could throw it the old servant had nervously turned away and left the room.
Tellydeb, the lord high executioner, would often sigh: “I wish there were some law that would permit me to chop off Jikki’s head.” But then Tullydub, the chief counselor, would say gloomily; “There is no law but the king’s will, and he insists that Jikki be allowed to live.”
So they were forced to bear with Jikki as best they could; but after the king breathed his last breath the old servant became more nervous and annoying than ever.
Hearing that the king was dead, Jikki made a rush for the door of the bell-tower, but tripped over the foot of Tollydob and fell upon the marble floor so violently that his bones rattled, and he picked himself up half dazed by the fall.
“Where are you going?” asked Tollydob.
“To toll the bell for the king’s death,” answered Jikki.
“‘WHERE ARE YOU GOING?’ ASKED TOLLYDOB.”
“Well, remain here until we give you permission to go,” commanded the lord high general.
“But the bell ought to be tolled!” said Jikki.
“Be silent!” growled the lord high purse-bearer. “We know what ought to be done and what ought not to be done.”
But this was not strictly true. In fact, the five high counselors did not know what ought to be done under these strange circumstances.
If they told the people the king was dead, and did not immediately appoint his successor, then the whole population would lose faith in them and fall to fighting and quarreling among themselves as to who should become king; and that would never in the world do.
No; it was evident that a new king must be chosen before they told the people that the old king was dead.
But whom should they choose for the new king? That was the important question.
While they talked of these matters, the ever-active Jikki kept rushing in and saying:
“Hadn’t I better toll the bell?”
“No!” they would shout in a chorus; and then Jikki would rush out again.
So they sat and thought and counseled together during the whole long night, and by morning they were no nearer a solution of the problem than before.
At daybreak Jikki stuck his head into the room and said:
“Hadn’t I better—”
“No!” they all shouted in a breath.
“Very well,” returned Jikki; “I was only going to ask if I hadn’t better get you some breakfast.”
“Yes!” they cried, again in one breath.
“And shall I toll the bell?”
“No!” they screamed; and the lord high steward threw an inkstand that hit the door several seconds after Jikki had closed it and disappeared.
While they were at breakfast they again discussed their future action in the choice of a king; and finally the chief counselor had a thought that caused him to start so suddenly that he nearly choked.
“The book!” he gasped, staring at his brother counselors in a rather wild manner.
“What book?” asked the lord high general.
“The book of laws,” answered the chief counselor.
“I never knew there was such a thing,” remarked the lord high executioner, looking puzzled. “I always thought the king’s will was the law.”
“So it was! So it was when we had a king,” answered Tullydub, excitedly. “But this book of laws was written years ago, and was meant to be used when the king was absent, or ill, or asleep.”
“‘NO!’ THEY ALL SHOUTED IN A BREATH.”
For a moment there was silence.
“Have you ever read the book?” then asked Tillydib.
“No; but I will fetch it at once, and we shall see if there is not a law to help us out of our difficulty.”
So the chief counselor brought the book—a huge old volume that had a musty smell to it and was locked together with a silver padlock. Then the key had to be found, which was no easy task; but finally the great book of laws lay open upon the table, and all the five periwigs of the five fat counselors were bent over it at once.
Long and earnestly they searched the pages, but it was not until after noon that Tullydub suddenly placed his broad thumb upon a passage and shouted:
“I have it! I have it!”
“What is it? Read it! Read it aloud!” cried the others.
“SO THE CHIEF COUNSELOR BROUGHT THE BOOK.”
“SUDDENLY PLACING HIS BROAD THUMB ON A PASSAGE, HE SHOUTED ‘I HAVE IT! I HAVE IT!’”
Just then Jikki rushed into the room and asked:
“Shall I toll the bell?”
“No!” they yelled, glaring at him; so Jikki ran out, shaking his head dolefully.
Then Tullydub adjusted his spectacles and leaned over the book, reading aloud the following words:
“In case the king dies, and there is no one to succeed him, the chief counselor of the kingdom shall go at sunrise to the eastward gate of the city of Nole and count the persons who enter through such gate as soon as it is opened by the guards. And the forty-seventh person that so enters, be it man, woman, or child, rich or poor, humble or noble, shall immediately be proclaimed king or queen, as the case may be, and shall rule all the kingdom of Noland forever after, so long as he or she may live. And if any one in all the kingdom of Nole shall refuse to obey the slightest wish of the new ruler, such person shall at once be put to death. This is the law.”
Then all the five high counselors heaved a deep sigh of relief and repeated together the words:
“This is the law.”
“But it’s a strange law, nevertheless,” remarked the lord high purse-bearer. “I wish I knew who will be the forty-seventh person to enter the east gate to-morrow at sunrise.”
“We must wait and see,” answered the lord high general. “And I will have my army assembled and marshaled at the gateway, that the new ruler of Noland may be welcomed in a truly kingly manner, as well as to keep the people in order when they hear the strange news.”
“Beg pardon!” exclaimed Jikki, looking in at the doorway, “but shall I toll the bell?”
“No, you numskull!” retorted Tullydub, angrily. “If the bell is tolled the people will be told, and they must not know that the old king is dead until the forty-seventh person enters the east gateway to-morrow morning!”
Chapter III.
THE GIFT OF THE MAGIC CLOAK.
Nearly two days’ journey from the city of Nole, yet still within the borders of the great kingdom of Noland, was a little village lying at the edge of a broad river. It consisted of a cluster of houses of the humblest description, for the people of this village were all poor and lived in simple fashion. Yet one house appeared to be somewhat better than the others, for it stood on the river-bank and had been built by the ferryman whose business it was to carry all travelers across the river. And, as many traveled that way, the ferryman was able in time to erect a very comfortable cottage, and to buy good furniture for it, and to clothe warmly and neatly his two children.
One of these children was a little girl named Margaret, who was called “Meg” by the villagers and “Fluff” by the ferryman her father, because her hair was so soft and fluffy.
Her brother, who was two years younger, was named Timothy; but Margaret had always called him “Bud,” because she could not say “brother” more plainly when first she began to talk; so nearly every one who knew Timothy called him Bud, as little Meg did.
These children had lost their mother when very young, and the big ferryman had tried to be both mother and father to them, and had reared them very gently and lovingly. They were good children, and were liked by every one in the village.
But one day a terrible misfortune befell them. The ferryman tried to cross the river for a passenger one very stormy night; but he never reached the other shore. When the storm subsided and morning came they found his body lying on the river-bank, and the two children were left alone in the world.
The news was carried by travelers to the city of Nole, where the ferryman’s only sister lived; and a few days afterward the woman came to the village and took charge of her orphaned niece and nephew.
She was not a bad-hearted woman, this Aunt Rivette; but she had worked hard all her life, and had a stern face and a stern voice. She thought the only way to make children behave was to box their ears every now and then; so poor Meg, who had been well-nigh heart-broken at her dear father’s loss, had still more occasion for tears after Aunt Rivette came to the village.
As for Bud, he was so impudent and ill-mannered to the old lady that she felt obliged to switch him; and afterward the boy became surly and silent, and neither wept nor answered his aunt a single word. It hurt Margaret dreadfully to see her little brother whipped, and she soon became so unhappy at the sorrowful circumstances in which she and her brother found themselves that she sobbed from morning till night and knew no comfort.
Aunt Rivette, who was a laundress in the city of Nole, decided she would take Meg and Bud back home with her.
“The boy can carry water for my tubs, and the girl can help me with the ironing,” she said.
So she sold all the heavier articles of furniture that the cottage contained, as well as the cottage itself; and all the remainder of her dead brother’s belongings she loaded upon the back of the little donkey she had ridden on her journey from Nole. It made such a pile of packages that the load seemed bigger than the donkey himself; but he was a strong little animal, and made no complaint of his burden.
All this being accomplished, they set out one morning for Nole, Aunt Rivette leading the donkey by the bridle with one hand and little Bud with the other, while Margaret followed behind, weeping anew at this sad parting with her old home and all she had so long loved.
It was a hard journey. The old woman soon became cross and fretful, and scolded the little ones at almost every step. When Bud stumbled, as he often did, for he was unused to walking very far, Aunt Rivette would box his ears or shake him violently by the arm or tell him he was “a good-for-nothing little beggar.” And Bud would turn upon her with a revengeful look in his big eyes, but say not a word. The woman paid no attention to Meg, who continued to follow the donkey with tearful eyes and drooping head.
“IT WAS A HARD JOURNEY.”
The first night they obtained shelter at a farm-house. But in the morning it was found that the boy’s feet were so swollen and sore from the long walk of the day before that he could not stand upon them. So Aunt Rivette, scolding fretfully at his weakness, perched Bud among the bundles atop the donkey’s back, and in this way they journeyed the second day, the woman walking ahead and leading the donkey, and Margaret following behind.
The laundress had hoped to reach the city of Nole at the close of this day; but the overburdened donkey would not walk very fast, so nightfall found them still a two-hours’ journey from the city gates, and they were forced to stop at a small inn.
But this inn was already overflowing with travelers, and the landlord could give them no beds, nor even a room.
“You can sleep in the stable if you like,” said he. “There is plenty of hay to lie down upon.”
So they were obliged to content themselves with this poor accommodation.
The old woman aroused them at the first streaks of daybreak the next morning, and while she fastened the packages to the donkey’s back Margaret stood in the stable yard and shivered in the cold morning air.
The little girl felt that she had never been more unhappy than at that moment, and when she thought of her kind father and the happy home she had once known, her sobs broke out afresh, and she leaned against the stable door and wept as if her little heart would break.
“OVER THE YOUTH’S ARM LAY FOLDED THE MAGIC CLOAK.”
Suddenly some one touched her arm, and she looked up to see a tall and handsome youth standing before her. It was none other than Ereol the fairy, who had assumed this form for her appearance among mortals; and over the youth’s arm lay folded the magic cloak that had been woven the evening before in the fairy circle of Burzee.
“Are you very unhappy, my dear?” asked Ereol, in kindly tones.
“I am the most unhappy person in all the world!” replied the girl, beginning to sob afresh.
“Then,” said Ereol, “I will present you with this magic cloak, which has been woven by the fairies. And while you wear it you may have your first wish granted; and if you give it freely to any other mortal, that person may also have one wish granted. So use the cloak wisely, and guard it as a great treasure.”
Saying this the fairy messenger spread the folds of the cloak and threw the brilliant-hued garment over the shoulders of the girl.
“‘WHAT! PUNISH ME, YOU RASCALLY FELLOW! WE’LL SEE ABOUT THAT.’”
Just then Aunt Rivette led the donkey from the stable, and seeing the beautiful cloak which the child wore, she stopped short and demanded:
“Where did you get that?”
“This stranger gave it to me,” answered Meg, pointing to the youth.
“Take it off! Take it off this minute and give it me—or I will whip you soundly!” cried the woman.
“Stop!” said Ereol, sternly. “The cloak belongs to this child alone, and if you dare take it from her I will punish you severely.”
“What! Punish me! Punish me, you rascally fellow! We’ll see about that.”
“We will, indeed,” returned Ereol, more calmly. “The cloak is a gift from the fairies; and you dare not anger them, for your punishment would be swift and terrible.”
Now no one feared to provoke the mysterious fairies more than Aunt Rivette; but she suspected the youth was not telling her the truth, so she rushed upon Ereol and struck at him with her upraised cane. But, to her amazement, the form of the youth vanished quickly into air, and then, indeed, she knew it was a fairy that had spoken to her.
“You may keep your cloak,” she said to Margaret, with a little shiver of fear. “I would not touch it for the world!”
The girl was very proud of her glittering garment, and when Bud was perched upon the donkey’s back and the old woman began trudging along the road to the city, Meg followed after with much lighter steps than before.
Presently the sun rose over the horizon, and its splendid rays shone upon the cloak and made it glisten gorgeously.
“Ah, me!” sighed the little girl, half aloud. “I wish I could be happy again!”
Then her childish heart gave a bound of delight, and she laughed aloud and brushed from her eyes the last tear she was destined to shed for many a day. For, though she spoke thoughtlessly, the magic cloak quickly granted to its first wearer the fulfilment of her wish.
Aunt Rivette turned upon her in surprise.
“What’s the matter with you?” she asked suspiciously, for she had not heard the girl laugh since her father’s death.
“‘AH, ME!’ SIGHED THE LITTLE GIRL, HALF ALOUD.”
“Why, the sun is shining,” answered Meg, laughing again. “And the air is sweet and fresh, and the trees are green and beautiful, and the whole world is very pleasant and delightful.” And then she danced lightly along the dusty road and broke into a verse of a pretty song she had learned at her father’s knee.
The old woman scowled and trudged on again; Bud looked down at his merry sister and grinned from pure sympathy with her high spirits; and the donkey stopped and turned his head to look solemnly at the laughing girl behind him.
“Come along!” cried the laundress, jerking at the bridle; “every one is passing us upon the road, and we must hurry to get home before noon.”
It was true. A good many travelers, some on horseback and some on foot, had passed them by since the sun rose; and although the east gate of the city of Nole was now in sight, they were obliged to take their places in the long line that sought entrance at the gate.
Chapter IV.
KING BUD OF NOLAND.
The five high counselors of the kingdom of Noland were both eager and anxious upon this important morning. Long before sunrise Tollydob, the lord high general, had assembled his army at the east gate of the city; and the soldiers stood in two long lines beside the entrance, looking very impressive in their uniforms. And all the people, noting this unusual display, gathered around at the gate to see what was going to happen.
Of course no one knew what was going to happen; not even the chief counselor nor his brother counselors. They could only obey the law and abide by the results.
Finally the sun arose and the east gate of the city was thrown open. There were a few people waiting outside, and they promptly entered.
“One, two, three, four, five, six!” counted the chief counselor, in a loud voice.
The people were much surprised at hearing this, and began to question one another with perplexed looks. Even the soldiers were mystified.
“A RAGGED, LIMPING PEDDLER ENTERED THE GATE.”
“Seven, eight, nine!” continued the chief counselor, still counting those who came in.
A breathless hush fell upon the assemblage.
Something very important and mysterious was going on; that was evident. But what?
They could only wait and find out.
“Ten, eleven!” counted Tullydub, and then heaved a deep sigh. For a famous nobleman had just entered the gate, and the chief counselor could not help wishing he had been number forty-seven.
So the counting went on, and the people became more and more interested and excited.
When the number had reached thirty-one a strange thing happened. A loud “boom!” sounded through the stillness, and then another, and another. Some one was tolling the great bell in the palace bell-tower, and people began saying to one another in awed whispers that the old king must be dead.
The five high counselors, filled with furious anger but absolutely helpless, as they could not leave the gate, lifted up their five chubby fists and shook them violently in the direction of the bell-tower.
Poor Jikki, finding himself left alone in the palace, could no longer resist the temptation to toll the bell; and it continued to peal out its dull, solemn tones while the chief counselor stood by the gate and shouted:
“Thirty-two, thirty-three, thirty-four!”
Only the mystery of this action could have kept the people quiet when they learned from the bell that their old king was dead.
But now they began to guess that the scene at the east gate promised more of interest than anything they might learn at the palace; so they stood very quiet, and Jikki’s disobedience of orders did no great harm to the plans of the five high counselors.
When Tullydub had counted up to forty the excitement redoubled, for every one could see big drops of perspiration standing upon the chief counselor’s brow, and all the other high counselors, who stood just behind him, were trembling violently with nervousness.
A ragged, limping peddler entered the gate.
“Forty-five!” shouted Tullydub.
Then came Aunt Rivette, dragging at the bridle of the donkey.
“Forty-six!” screamed Tullydub.
And now Bud rode through the gate, perched among the bundles on the donkey’s back and looking composedly upon the throng of anxious faces that greeted him.
“‘FORTY-SEVEN!’ CRIED THE CHIEF COUNSELOR. ‘LONG LIVE THE NEW KING OF NOLAND!’”
“Forty-seven!” cried the chief counselor; and then in his loudest voice he continued:
“Long live the new King of Noland!”
All the high counselors prostrated themselves in the dusty road before the donkey. The old woman was thrust back in the crowd by a soldier, where she stood staring in amazement, and Margaret, clothed in her beautiful cloak, stepped to the donkey’s side and looked first at her brother and then at the group of periwigged men, who bobbed their heads in the dust before him and shouted:
“Long live the king!”
Then, while the crowd still wondered, the lord high counselor arose and took from a soldier a golden crown set with brilliants, a jeweled scepter, and a robe of ermine. Advancing to Bud, he placed the crown upon the boy’s head and the scepter in his hand, while over his shoulders he threw the ermine robe.
The crown fell over Bud’s ears, but he pushed it back upon his head, so it would stay there; and as the kingly robe spread over all the bundles on the donkey’s back and quite covered them, the boy really presented a very imposing appearance.
The people quickly rose to the spirit of the occasion. What mattered it if the old king was dead, now that a new king was already before them? They broke into a sudden cheer, and, joyously waving their hats and bonnets above their heads, joined eagerly in the cry:
“Long live the King of Noland!”
Aunt Rivette was fairly stupefied. Such a thing was too wonderful to be believed. A man in the crowd snatched the bonnet from the old woman’s head, and said to her brusquely:
“Why don’t you greet the new king? Are you a traitor to your country?”
So she also waved her bonnet and screamed: “Long live the king!” But she hardly knew what she was doing or why she did it.
Meantime the high counselors had risen from their knees and now stood around the donkey.
“May it please your Serene Majesty to condescend to tell us who this young lady is?” asked Tullydub, bowing respectfully.
“That’s my sister Fluff,” said Bud, who was enjoying his new position very much. All the counselors, at this, bowed low to Margaret.
“SO SHE ALSO WAVED HER BONNET AND SCREAMED: ‘LONG LIVE THE KING!’”
“A horse for the Princess Fluff!” cried the lord high general; and the next moment she was mounted upon a handsome white palfrey, where, with her fluffy golden hair and smiling face and the magnificent cloak flowing from her shoulders, she looked every inch a princess. The people cheered her, too; for it was long since any girl or woman had occupied the palace of the King of Noland, and she was so pretty and sweet that every one loved her immediately.
“‘MAY IT PLEASE YOUR SERENE MAJESTY TO TELL US WHO THIS YOUNG LADY IS?’ ASKED TULLYDUB, RESPECTFULLY.”
And now the king’s chariot drove up, with its six prancing steeds, and Bud was lifted from the back of the donkey and placed in the high seat of the chariot.
Again the people shouted joyful greetings; the band struck up a gay march tune, and then the royal procession started for the palace.
First came Tollydob and the officers; then the king’s chariot, surrounded by soldiers; then the four high counselors upon black horses, riding two on each side of Princess Fluff; and, finally, the band of musicians and the remainder of the royal army.
It was an imposing sight, and the people followed after with cheers and rejoicings, while the lord high purse-bearer tossed silver coins from his pouch for any one to catch who could.
A message had been sent to warn Jikki that the new king was coming, so he stopped tolling the death knell, and instead rang out a glorious chime of welcome.
As for old Rivette finding herself and the donkey alike deserted, she once more seized the bridle and led the patient beast to her humble dwelling; and it was just as she reached her door that King Bud of Noland, amid the cheers and shouts of thousands, entered for the first time the royal palace of Nole.
“‘I WANT SOME NEW CLOTHES, AND SO DOES MY SISTER,’ BUD ANNOUNCED, AS BOLDLY AS POSSIBLE.”
Chapter V.
PRINCESS FLUFF.
Now when the new king had entered the palace with his sister, the chief counselor stood upon a golden balcony with the great book in his hand, and read aloud, to all the people who were gathered below, the law in regard to choosing a new king, and the severe penalty in case any refused to obey his slightest wish. And the people were glad enough to have a change of rulers, and pleased that so young a king had been given them. So they accepted both the law and the new king cheerfully, and soon dispersed to their homes to talk over the wonderful events of the day.
Bud and Meg were ushered into beautifully furnished rooms on the second floor of the palace, and old Jikki, finding that he had a new master to serve, flew about in his usual nervous manner, and brought the children the most delicious breakfast they had ever eaten in their lives.
Bud had been so surprised at his reception at the gate and the sudden change in his condition that as yet he had not been able to collect his thoughts. His principal idea was that he was in a dream, and he kept waiting until he should wake up. But the breakfast was very real and entirely satisfying, and he began to wonder if he could be dreaming, after all.
The old servant, when he carried away the dishes, bowed low to Bud and said: “Beg pardon, your Majesty! But the lord high counselor desires to know the king’s will.”
Bud stared at him a moment thoughtfully.
“Tell him I want to be left alone to talk with my sister Fluff,” he replied.
Jikki again bowed low and withdrew, closing the door behind him, and then the children looked at each other solemnly, until Meg burst into a merry laugh.
“Oh, Bud!” she cried, “think of it! I’m the royal Princess Fluff, and you’re the King of all Noland! Isn’t it funny!” And then she danced about the room in great delight.
Bud answered her seriously.
“What does it all mean, Fluff?” he said. “We’re only poor children, you know; so I can’t really be a king. And I wouldn’t be surprised if Aunt Rivette came in any minute and boxed my ears.”
“Nonsense!” laughed Margaret. “Didn’t you hear what that fat, periwigged man said about the law? The old king is dead, and some one else had to be king, you know; and the forty-seventh person who entered the east gate was you, Bud, and so by law you are the king of all this great country. Don’t you see?”
Bud shook his head and looked at his sister.
“No, I don’t see,” he said. “But if you say it’s all right, Fluff, why, it must be all right.”
“Of course it’s all right,” declared the girl, throwing off her pretty cloak and placing it on a chair. “You’re the rightful king, and can do whatever you please; and I’m the rightful princess, because I’m your sister; so I can do whatever I please. Don’t you see, Bud?”
“But, look here, Fluff,” returned her brother, “if you’re a princess, why do you wear that old gray dress and those patched-up shoes? Father used to tell us that princesses always wore the loveliest dresses.”
Meg looked at herself and sighed.
“I really ought to have some new dresses, Bud. And I suppose if you order them they will be ready in no time. And you must have some new clothes, too, for your jacket is ragged and soiled.”
“Do you really think it’s true, Fluff?” he asked anxiously.
“Of course it’s true. Look at your kingly robe, and your golden crown, and that stick with all those jewels in it!”—meaning the scepter. “They’re true enough, aren’t they?”
Bud nodded.
“Call in that old man,” he said. “I’ll order something, and see if he obeys me. If he does, then I’ll believe I’m really a king.”
“But now listen, Bud,” said Meg, gravely; “don’t you let these folks see you’re afraid, or that you’re not sure whether you’re a king or not. Order them around and make them afraid of you. That’s what the kings do in all the stories I ever read.”
“I will,” replied Bud. “I’ll order them around. So you call in that old donkey with the silver buttons all over him.”
“Here’s a bell-rope,” said Meg; “I’ll pull it.”
Instantly Jikki entered and bowed low to each of the children.
“What’s your name?” asked Bud.
“Jikki, your gracious Majesty.”
“Who are you?”
“Your Majesty’s valet, if you please,” answered Jikki.
“Oh!” said Bud. He didn’t know what a valet was, but he wasn’t going to tell Jikki so.
“I want some new clothes, and so does my sister,” Bud announced, as boldly as possible.
“Certainly, your Majesty. I’ll send the lord high steward here at once.”
With this he bowed and rushed away, and presently Tallydab, the lord high steward, entered the room and with a low bow presented himself respectfully before the children.
“I beg your Majesty to command me,” said Tallydab, gravely.
Bud was a little awed by his appearance, but he resolved to be brave.
“We want some new clothes,” he said.
“They are already ordered, your Majesty, and will be here presently.”
“Oh!” said Bud, and stopped short.
“I have ordered twenty suits for your Majesty and forty gowns for the princess,” continued Tallydab; “and I hope these will content your Majesty and the princess until you have time to select a larger assortment.”
“Oh!” said Bud, greatly amazed.
“I have also selected seven maidens, the most noble in all the land, to wait upon the princess. They are even now awaiting her Highness in her own apartments.”
Meg clapped her hands delightedly.
“I’ll go to them at once,” she cried.
“Has your Majesty any further commands?” asked Tallydab. “If not your five high counselors would like to confer with you in regard to your new duties and responsibilities.”