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 riverbank 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 everyone who knew Timothy called him Bud as little Meg did. These children had lost their mother when very young, and the 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 everyone 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 riverbank, 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 heartbroken 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 to 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 and 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 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. The first night they obtained shelter at a farmhouse. 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 woman 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. Suddenly someone 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. 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 glitter 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 fulfillment 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. “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. “Everyone 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.
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. “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. Someone 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 everyone 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 gates, 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; 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 if the old king was dead now that a new king was already before them? They broke into 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 stupified. 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. “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 everyone loved her immediately. 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 his 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 pursebearer tossed silver coins from his pouch for anyone 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.
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 they 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 someone 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.” “Send ‘em in,” said Bud promptly. And while Margaret went to meet her new maids, the king held his first conference with his high counselors. In answer to Tallydab’s summons, the other four periwigs, pompous and solemn, filed into the room and stood in a row before Bud, who looked upon them with a sensation of awe. “Your Majesty,” began the venerable Tullydub in a grave voice. “We are here to instruct you, with your gracious consent, in your new and important duties.” Bud shifted uneasily in his chair. It all seemed so unreal and absurd--this kingly title and polite deference bestowed upon a poor boy by five dignified and periwigged men--that it was hard for Bud to curb his suspicion that all was not right. “See here, all of you,” said he suddenly. “Is this thing a joke? Tell me, is it a joke?” “A joke?” echoed all of the five counselors in several degrees of shocked and horrified tones, and Tellydeb, the lord high executioner, added reproachfully, “Could we, by any chance, have the temerity to joke with your mighty and glorious Majesty?” “That’s just it,” answered the boy. “I am not a mighty and glorious Majesty. I’m just Bud, the ferryman’s son, and you know it.” “You are Bud, the ferryman’s son, to be sure,” agreed the chief counselor, bowing courteously. “But by the decree of fate and the just and unalterable laws of the land you are now become absolute ruler of the great kingdom of Noland, therefore all that dwell therein are your loyal and obedient servants.” Bud thought this over. “Are you sure there’s no mistake?” he asked with hesitation. “There can be no mistake,” returned old Tullydub firmly, “for we, the five high counselors of the kingdom, have ourselves interpreted and carried out the laws of the land, and the people, your subjects, have approved our action.” “Then,” said Bud, “I suppose I’ll have to be king whether I want to or not.” “Your Majesty speaks but the truth,” returned the chief counselor with a sigh. “With or without your consent, you are the king. It is the law.” And all the others chanted in a chorus, “It is the law.” Bud felt much relieved. He had no notion whatever of refusing to be a king. If there was no mistake and he was really the powerful monarch of Noland, then there ought to be no end of fun and freedom for him during the rest of his life. To be his own master; to have plenty of money; to live in a palace and order people around as he pleased--all this seemed to the poor and friendless boy of yesterday to be quite the most delightful fate that could possibly overtake one. So lost did he become in thoughts of the marvelous existence opening before him that he paid scant attention to the droning speeches of the five aged counselors who were endeavoring to acquaint him with the condition of affairs in his new kingdom and to instruct him in his many and difficult duties as its future ruler. For a full hour he sat quiet and motionless, and they thought he was listening to these dreary affairs of state, but suddenly he jumped up and astonished the dignitaries by exclaiming, “See here, you just fix things to suit yourselves. I’m going to find Fluff.” And with no heed to protests, the new king ran from the room and slammed the door behind him.
Complete Works of L. Frank Baum Page 275