In a transport of nostalgia, Merry began to bound gracefully in circles in the middle of the bridge. Robin clung to her pole and cast nervous glances at the glass road wheeling beneath him, humming a few “teedle-eedle-eedles” just to please her. Neither of them noticed the group of chubby people who emerged from the gates just then. The people halted, apparently transfixed, at sight of the circling little mare. Then, after exchanging astonished glances, they hurried to the middle of the bridge. Merry, finding herself surrounded, halted abruptly.
“Hello,” said Robin cautiously, looking around the circle of strange faces, all of which displayed the liveliest interest. There were five men and three women, all short and roly-poly, with countenances as round as full moons, set with round blue eyes.
“Hello,” they answered in chorus. As they spoke, raised their right hands with tip of thumb and forefinger together to form a little circle. It seemed to be a gesture of so Robin politely imitated it, and waited for someone to When no one did, he ventured to ask what city this was.
“This is Roundabout, your honor,” answered a man in polka dot jacket.
Before Robin had recovered from being called “your honor, a second man, wearing a tunic embroidered with spirals, said “And we are Roundheads. Your honor is very welcome! we ask who your honor is’? And what is that thing with you?”
Before Robin could answer, the man in the polka dots gasp “Thing? Thing!” and turned, wide-eyed and excited, to companions. They immediately grew as excited as he, clutching each other and repeating, “Thing! It’s a thing!”
“I’m not a Thing!” Merry said indignantly. “Am I, Robin?
“No, of course not,” Robin soothed her, adding to Roundheads, “This is Merry. Merry Go Round. And I’m Robin Brown, and we-”
“Merry Go Round?” echoed the Roundheads joyously, Polkadots added, “Oh, please, your honor Robin, what brought you here?”
Wondering why the little man’s voice trembled with w~ seemed unbearable suspense, Robin replied, “To tell the truth I don’t know. All I did was catch the brass ring-and here I am! At this the Roundheads simply went wild with excitement “The ring! The ring brought him!” they babbled to each other “And he brought the Thing! The ring! The Thing! The king! thething! Thering!”
“What do they mean, Robin?” Merry asked crossly. She felt very confused, and it made her nervous.
“Nothing, as far as I can tell,” Robin told her. “They’re just talking in circles.”
“Yes, yes, in circles!” Polkadots agreed eagerly.
“And you were running in circles when we found you!” added Spirals. “Everything’s round, even their names!” he announced triumphantly to the others, upon which the babble broke out again. “Yes, everything’s round! Everything’s round!” “And the treasure’s found-Roundelay found it day before yesterday!”
“Oh, welcome, welcome, your honors!” Polkadots said earnestly. “We’ve been expecting you a long time!”
“Expecting us?” Robin said in surprise.
“Oh, yes! You and the Thing,” said the Roundheads. “You’re a king, aren’t you?”
“A king?” Robin gasped. “My goodness, no! How did you ever-I’m just a-I’m just Robin.”
The joyous babble died away at this, and the smiles turned to anxious frowns. The Roundheads looked at each other and began a lowtoned, puzzled discussion, which seemed to feature the words “ring” and “Thing”, and several suggestions to “ask Roundelay.”
“I’ll bet I know what it is,” Robin whispered to Merry. “They’re probably expecting the king of some neighboring country on a State Visit or something. And here it’s nobody but us. Kind of embarrassing all around.” Raising his voice a little, he said diffidently, “I guess we came at just the wrong time. I’m sorry. We’ll leave right away, if somebody would just tell us
where the-”
“Oh, don’t leave!” the Roundheads chorused in dismay.
“Oh, no!” Polkadots exclaimed. “You must meet Roundelay, your honors. He’s our Sphere-Seer. Please, come in. Let us show you around our city. And then stay for lunch! We have an awfully pretty city,” he added so coaxingly that Robin turned pink, and felt more flattered than ever in his life.
“Probably,” he told himself honestly, “they’ve given up on that king, and just want to entertain somebody, so as not to waste the refreshments.” But he was dying to see inside the Sphere, so after only a moment’s hesitation, he shyly accepted the invitation, hoping he and Merry wouldn’t be too much in the way in case the real king showed up after all.
The Roundheads did not seem the least bit worried about that; with a delighted cheer they hurried their guests through the wrought-iron gates into the city. The appearance of strangers in the glass streets of Roundabout caused an instant commotion. Every Roundhead in sight came running to stare at them and ask excited questions of the others, who were already trying to tell all about it. Since everybody was talking at once, Robin and Merry caught only a few words-the familiar “king”, “Thing”, and “ring”, along with several references to “Roundelay” and something called a “Round House”-but they were too busy gaping at this strange and interesting city to listen anyway. At last several delegations detached themselves importantly from the crowd and scurried away in various directions, and Spirals
and Polkadots led the visitors toward the nearest winding avenue, with the rest of the joyous, chattering citizens trooping along behind.
“Now this, Your Honors,” announced Polkadots proudly, “is Corckscrewe Street, named for a Founding Father of our city, who designed the Great Sphere, and built the Round House.”
“What is this Round House?” Merry whispered to Robin. “All the houses look round to me!”
Indeed, they were-and since they were all fashioned of the shimmering pale blue glass, it was easy to see that even the furniture inside was round. The larger domes, Polkadots explained, were all factories; and Robin, peering with interest through their transparent walls as the procession moved through the winding streets, soon realized that everything the people manufactured was round, as well. One factory made balls of every description, from tiny ball-bearings to huge beach balls; another made hoops and rings; another, plates and saucers; another, wheels and coils. There was still another that puzzled Robin. He could see shining machinery and round work tables, but he could see no merchandise at all.
“What is made there?” he asked Polkadots, who was walking beside his right stirrup.
“Holes, Your Honor,” the little Roundhead answered. “To fit in wells, and doughnuts, and zeros, you know.”
“And in croquet wickets?” suggested Robin, fascinated.
“Oh, no! They’re not round. We make round things here We also make our rounds,” Polkadots added a bit wearily. see, we’re a nation of peddlers, your honor. We tramp about the Munchkin country selling the things we make. But we’ getting terribly tired of it,” he added in a pleading voice. “We’re really a homeloving people,” said Spirals, peering up earnestly into Robin’s eyes.
“Besides, business has fallen off badly lately,” put in a wistful voice from the crowd.
“Oh, very badly! It’s awful!” cried several other voices.
Robin said sympathetically, “It’s hard to sell things.” He had once tried to sell can-openers for the Cub Scout Fund, and found it tough going.
“Well, it’s never before been hard to sell our things,” Polkadots declared. “Because they never wear out. That’s the whole trouble! We’ve already sold our customers all the ball-bearings and holes and wheels and saucers they can use-and now nobody will buy any more, because the old ones are still perfectly good! It’s certainly balled up our economy, I can tell you!” He pointed to a factory they were passing. “Just look at all those surplus cymbals! The more they pile up, the less we sell, and the less we sell, the more they pile up! Why, it’s a vicious circle!”
“Isn’t it, Your Honor?” Spirals added with a coaxing smile.
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“Seems to me you’ll have to find some new customers,” Robin told him.
“Oh, no! We couldn’t call on new customers, because we
always call on old ones,” Spirals explained.
Merry blinked, exchanged a puzzled glance with Robin, and suggested, “Well, then, make things that wear out!”
“Oh, no!” Polkadots said in a shocked voice. “We couldn’t make imperfect things! Ours are always perfect!”
This time Robin blinked too; somehow the conversation didn’t seem to be getting anywhere. “Mighty few things are ever perfect,” he remarked. “Are you sure?”
“Oh, yes!” a dozen voices assured him, and Polkadots added, “All the experts say so!”
“But who are the experts?” Robin persisted.
“Why-people who realize our products are perfect,” Spirals explained. “Perfection is our motto, you see. And our National Emblem is a circle-the Perfect Circle.”
“I thought you said it was a Vicious Circle?” whinnied Merry, who was by now totally confused.
“That’s right-perfectly vicious!” Polkadots agreed enthusiastically, and all the others chorused, “Perfectly vicious!” then fixed Robin with wistful eyes. Spirals smiled winningly and added, “And perfectly circular.”
It occurred to Robin that there was something perfectly circular about the National Reasoning, too, but before he could figure out just what it was, one of the Roundhead women spoke up in an eager, pleading voice.
“Please, Your Honor, we don’t care if business improves or
not. The truth is, we’re tired of being peddlers and factory-workers. We want to stay home in our pretty city and be ladies and gentlemen, and have crown jewels and National Magic Possessions and things, like other cities, and be glamorous and interesting!”
“Oh, yes! That’s what we want!” several other Roundheads
cried.
“And when we have a king, we can do those things, you see, your honor?” the woman went on persuasively. “Don’t you think that will be nicer than the way things are now?”
“Oh, yes, much nicer,” Robin agreed, wondering what his opinion had to do with it. “Are you going to have a king, then?” he added politely.
“Yes, Your Honor,” Polkadots said in a solemn tone. “That is perfectly certain. We will have a king. The Prophecy says so. And our king will solve all our problems, and take care of us forever.”
“Well! That’s mighty nice,” said Robin, privately thinking it was quite a bit to ask even of a king.
“Mighty nice! Oh, mighty nice! Yes, mighty, mighty, mighty nice!” cried the Roundheads joyfully. They began to dance in circles on the glassy street, singing their National Anthem, “Round and Round the Ballbearing Bush.”
They had by this time arrived at the largest dome of all, which Robin guessed must be the Round House. Unlike the other buildings, it was a deep sapphire blue, and was flanked by
a tall Round Tower, which had small circular windows all around its top but no door giving on the street. The Round House itself had a thick glass door that reminded Robin of the bottom cut from some vast blue bottle; this was thrown open, and Robin and Merry were ushered into a huge round room.
Merry shied violently at a large white object on a dais in the middle of the room. “Is it a ghost?” she whispered in a trembling voice.
“No, just something wrapped in dust-sheets,” Robin reassured her, sliding from the saddle and looking about him curiously. The room was odd but attractive, furnished with blue rugs and round blue velvet hassocks, with numerous small doors around the walls. As the Roundheads came dancing in, still bellowing their anthem, one of these little doors popped open, and a strange little man popped out, followed by one of the Roundhead delegations that had separated from the crowd earlier. He wore a long, flapping robe embroidered all over with pinwheels, and a high, peaked hat with a ball at its tip. Unlike the other Roundheads, he was almost skinny, and he had sly, gleaming eyes that made Robin instantly uneasy. However, he was beaming hospitably, and hurried toward the visitors with every appearance of delight, the delegation trotting after.
“Welcome! Welcome!” he exclaimed, bowing and bobbing and nodding and making repeated little circles with his fingers. As the last rafter-shaking notes of the anthem subsided at last,
he swept a grandiose bow and said in a loud and solemn voice, “I am honored. The Round House is honored. All Roundabout is honored! A hundred welcomes to Your Majesty!”
“Oh, dear,” Robin groaned. “He’s got things muddled too!” It was the awkwardest thing, having to keep telling people you weren’t a king. “Excuse me, sir, but-are you the mayor or something?”
“Ah, no, no, Your Majesty,” the little man chuckled, shaking his head until the ball on his peaked cap waggled and bounced. “I am merely Roundelay, Sphere-Seer of Roundabout, temporary guardian of this beautiful city and humble advisor to the Roundheads.”
“Well, anyway, you’re in charge, aren’t you?” Robin went on hurriedly. He was anxious to get the embarrassing part over with as soon as possible. “You see, there’s been a sort of mix-up. I’m afraid the-the delegation there must have told you I was the king you were expecting for lunch, but they’re mistaken, ‘cause I’m not, really. I’m only-”
“Ah, but they are not mistaken!” cried Roundelay. “You are the king we’ve been expecting.” “Yes, yes, you are!” shouted the Roundheads. “You are, you are, you-
The noise went on for some time. After exchanging a baffled glance with Merry, Robin peered carefully at Roundelay, then around at the rejoicing citizens, wondering if he could have strayed into a city of harmless lunatics. Still, the Roundheads
seemed fairly sane-except on this one subject. Holding up both hands for silence, he tried again.
“Look, Mr. Roundelay,” he said firmly. “I’m sorry to disappoint everybody-honest, I am. But this is all a mistake! It-”
“Indeed? Indeed?” murmured Roundelay, whose gleaming eyes were moving rapidly from Robin to Merry and back again. “But is it not true that your name is Robin-as in ‘round-robin’-and that this attractive Thing’s name is Merry Go Round?”
“Yes, that’s true, but-”
“And,” Roundelay interrupted, beginning to rub his hands together, “were you not discovered on our bridge, cavorting in circles?”
“Well, I don’t know about cavorting. Merry was wheeling around, but-”
“Wheeling around!” Roundelay echoed gleefully, rubbing his hands even faster. “Round, round, everything’s round! And -just mention once more what brought you to our country?”
“Well, in the beginning, the brass ring brought us. you’d listen-”
“No need! It’s proved! You’ve proved it yourself!” shrieked Roundelay. As the Roundheads burst into a deafening cheer, he shouted above it, “Hail to Round Robin, King of Roundabout! Hail to Merry Go Round, Royal Symbol! Hail-” “King of Roundabout?” gasped Robin. “W-wait a minute-”
“Royal Cymbal!” Merry whinnied shrilly. “Are they going to beat me?”
“No, they don’t mean that kind of a cymbal, Merry, but-oh, jeepers, if they’d only… Be quiet!” Robin yelled suddenly at the top of his voice.
To his surprise, everybody obeyed instantly, but before he could draw another breath Roundelay was already talking again, bowing, rubbing his hands and smiling ingratiatingly.
“Pardon, Your Majesty! We are too boisterous in our rejoicing. Your Majesty must forgive us! It is just that we have so looked forward to the day when we would have a king!”
“But I’m not your king! Whatever makes you think I am?”
“Why, the prophecy!” chortled Roundelay. Waving his bony hands to the rhythm, he chanted,
“The ring will bring the king The king will bring the Thing-Everything round The treasure’s found, The ring will bring the king.”
“That’s the prophecy?” Robin said, dumbfounded.
“It is. And you are our long-awaited rulers! There�
�s no doubt whatever! Between you, you fulfill every line!”
“Not unless you call me a Thing, and I won’t let you!” cried Merry, her eyes filling with tears.
“Yes, and what about the treasure? We haven’t got any treasure!” Robin protested.
“Ah-ha, but we have!” Roundelay chuckled, wagging a long finger at him and dancing about ecstatically. “We have recently acquired a treasure, a National Magic Possession, all our own-the Shining Circle of Roundabout! Now we have a Sovereign, too, and Roundabout can at last begin to be glamorous and interesting! Hooray! Make ready for the Royal Coronation! Give orders for the Royal Banquet! Roundabout’s turn has come around at last!”
“Hooray! Hooray!” yelled all the Roundheads, and surged into a perfect fury of activity.
While Robin and Merry stood dazed, the dust-sheets were whipped off the object on the dais, revealing a glittering barrel-shaped throne, made of sapphire-blue glass and upholstered in pale blue velvet. Several Roundheads dashed through a door at the rear of the room, shouting for the cooks; others produced from somewhere a huge velvet cushion on which rested a sparkling blue glass crown and sceptre; still others, after considerable agitated rummaging in a closet, brought forth a length of the blue velvet trimmed with spun glass fringe. A moment later a whole troup of chubby little Roundhead children dressed in blue-embroidered choir robes filed in through the big door, shrilly singing the National Anthem as a round. Breathless but all present, the entire citizenry gathered around, and Roundelay
stepped forward.
Before Robin and Merry had even begun to recover from their bewilderment at the rapid sequence of events, the fringed blue velvet cape was thrown over Merry’s back, the crown placed on Robin’s head, and the sceptre thrust into his hand. They were led to the dais amid noisy national rejoicing, and without further ceremony hailed as King Round Robin the First, Ruler of the Roundheads and Sovereign of the Sphere, and Merry Go Round, Royal Symbol of Roundabout.
L. Frank Baum - Oz 40 Page 12