The Sailorman’s Return
Next day the witch-queen returned with her army to the city of Ix to await the coming of the sailorman with the necktie, and King Bud set about getting his kingdom into running order again. The lord high pursebearer dug up his magic purse, and Bud ordered him to pay the shopkeepers full value for everything the Roly-Rogues had destroyed. The merchants were thus enabled to make purchases of new stocks of goods, and although all travelers had for many days kept away from Noland for fear of the monsters, caravans now flocked in vast numbers to the city of Nole with rich stores of merchandise to sell, so that soon the entire city looked like a huge bazaar. Bud also ordered a gold piece given to the head of every family, and this did no damage to the ever-filled royal purse, while it meant riches to the poor people who had suffered so much. Princess Fluff carried her silver chest back to the palace of her brother, and in it lay, carefully folded, the magic cloak. Being now fearful of losing it, she wanted Jikki to allow no one to enter the room in which lay the silver chest except with her full consent, explaining to him the value of the cloak. “And was it this cloak I wore when I wished for half a dozen servants?” asked the old valet. “Yes,” answered Fluff. “Aunt Rivette bade you return it to me, and you were so careless of it that nearly all the high counselors used it before I found it again.” “Then,” said Jikki, heedless of the reproof, “will your Highness please use the cloak to rid me of these stupid servants? They are continually at my heels, waiting to serve me, and I am so busy myself serving others that those six young men almost drive me distracted. It wouldn’t be so bad if they would serve anyone else, but they claim they are my servants alone and refuse to wait upon even his Majesty the king.” “Sometime I will try to help you,” answered Fluff, “but I shall not use the cloak again until the miller’s son returns from his voyage at sea.” So Jikki was forced to wait as impatiently as the others for the sailorman, and his servants had now become such a burden upon him that he grumbled every time he looked around and saw them standing in a stiff line behind him. Aunt Rivette again took possession of her rooms at the top of the palace, and although Bud, grateful for her courage in saving him and his sister from the Roly-Rogues, would gladly have given her handsomer apartments, the old woman preferred to be near the roof, where she could take flight into the air whenever it pleased her to go out. With her big wings and her power to fly as a bird, she was the envy of all the old gossips she had known in the days when she worked as a laundress, and now she would often alight upon the doorstep of some humble friend and tell of the wonderful adventures she had encountered. This never failed to surround her with an admiring circle of listeners, and Aunt Rivette derived far more pleasure from her tattle than from living in a palace with her nephew the king. The kingdom of Noland soon took on a semblance to its former prosperity, and the Roly-Rogues were only remembered with shudders of repugnance and spoken of in awed whispers. And so the days wore away until late in the autumn, when one morning a mounted soldier from Queen Zixi dashed into Nole and rode furiously up to the palace gate. “The sailorman is found!” he shouted, throwing himself from his horse and bowing low before little King Bud, who had come out to meet him. “Good,” remarked Bud. “The Queen of Ix is even now riding to your Majesty’s city with a large escort surrounding the sailorman,” continued the soldier. “And has he the necktie?” asked Bud eagerly. “He is wearing it, your Majesty,” answered the man, “but he refuses to give it to anyone but the Princess Fluff.” “That’s all right,” said the king, and reentering the palace, he ordered Jikki to make preparations to receive the witch-queen and her retinue. When Zixi came to the city gates, she found General Tollydob in a gorgeous new uniform waiting to escort her to the palace. The houses were gay with flags and streamers, bands were playing, and on each side of the street along which the witch-queen rode were lines of soldiers to keep the way clear of the crowding populace. Behind the queen came the sailorman, carefully guarded by Zixi’s most trusted soldiers. He looked uneasy at so great a reception, and rode his horse as awkwardly as a sailor might. So the cavalcade came to the palace, which was thronged with courtiers and ladies in waiting. Zixi and the sailorman were ushered into the great throne room, where King Bud, wearing his ermine robe and jeweled crown, sat gravely upon his throne with Princess Fluff beside him. “Your Majesty,” began the witch-queen, bowing prettily, “I have brought you the sailorman at last. He has just returned from his voyage, and my soldiers captured him at his mother’s cottage by the mill. But he refuses to give the necktie to anyone except the Princess Fluff.” “I am the Princess Fluff,” said Meg to the sailor, “and your necktie is part of my magic cloak. So please give it back to me.” The sailorman shifted uneasily from one foot to the other. “My mother told me,” he finally said, “that King Bud would give me fifty gold pieces for it, and the Queen of Ix would give me another fifty gold pieces, and that your Highness would give me fifty neckties.” “That is all true,” returned Fluff, “so here are the fifty neckties.” Tillydib, the lord high pursebearer, counted out fifty gold pieces, and Zixi’s treasurer counted out another fifty, and all were given to the sailorman. Then the miller’s son unfastened the necktie from about his collar and handed it to Fluff. During the murmur of satisfaction that followed, the girl unlocked her silver chest, which Jikki had brought, and drew out the magic cloak. Lifting the skirt of the garment, she attempted to fit the sailor’s necktie into the place it should go. And then, while everyone looked on with breathless interest, the girl lifted a white face to the sailorman and exclaimed, “This is not the necktie your mother gave you!” For a moment there was silence while the assemblage glared angrily upon the sailor. Then the king, rising from his seat, demanded, “Are you sure, Fluff? Are you sure of that?” “Of course I’m sure,” said the girl. “It is neither the shape nor the color of the missing patch.” Bud turned to the now-trembling sailor. “Why have you tried to deceive us?” he asked sternly. “Oh, your Majesty!” returned the man, wringing his hands miserably. “I lost the necktie in a gale at sea, for I knew nothing of its value. And when I came home, my mother told me of all the gold you had offered for its return and advised me to deceive you by wearing another necktie. She said you would never know the difference.” “Your mother is a foolish woman, as well as dishonest,” answered Bud, “and you shall both be severely punished. Tellydeb,” he continued, addressing the lord high executioner, “take this man to prison and see that he is fed on bread and water until further orders.” “Not so!” exclaimed a sweet voice near the king. And then all looked up to see the beautiful Lulea, queen of the fairies, standing beside the throne.
The Fairy Queen
Every eye was now fixed upon the exquisite form of the fairy queen, which shed a glorious radiance throughout the room and filled every heart with an awe and admiration not unmingled with fear. “The magic cloak was woven by my band,” said the fairy, speaking so distinctly that all could hear the words, “and our object was to bring relief to suffering mortals, not to add to their worries. Some good the cloak has accomplished, I am sure, but also has it been used foolishly and to no serious purpose. Therefore I, who gave the cloak, shall now take it away. The good that has been done shall remain, but the foolish wishes granted shall now be canceled.” With these words, she turned and lightly lifted the shimmering magic garment from the lap of the princess. “One moment, please!” cried Bud eagerly. “Cannot I have my wish? I waited until I could wish wisely, you know, and then the cloak wouldn’t work.” With a smile, Lulea threw the cloak over the boy’s shoulders. “Wish!” said she. “I wish,” announced Bud gravely, “that I shall become the best king that Noland has ever had!” “Your wish is granted,” returned the fairy sweetly, “and it shall be the last wish fulfilled through the magic cloak.” But now Zixi rushed forward and threw herself upon her knees before the fairy. “Oh, your Majesty--” she began eagerly, but Lulea instantly silenced her with an abrupt gesture. “Plead not to me, Queen of Ix!” said the dainty immortal, drawing bac
k from Zixi’s prostrate form. “You know that we fairies do not approve of witchcraft. However long your arts may permit you to live, you must always beware a mirror!” Zixi gave a sob and buried her pretty face in her hands, and it was Fluff whose tender heart prompted her to raise the witch-queen and try to comfort her. For a moment all present looked at Zixi. When their eyes again sought the form of the fairy, Lulea had vanished, and with her disappeared forever from Noland the magic cloak. Some important changes had been wrought through the visit of the fairy. Jikki’s six servants were gone, to the old valet’s great delight. The ten-foot general had shrunken to six feet in height, Lulea having generously refrained from reducing old Tollydob to his former short stature. Ruffles, to the grief of the lord high steward, could no longer talk, but Tallydab comforted himself with the knowledge that his dog could at least understand every word addressed to him. The lord high executioner found he could no longer reach farther than other men, but the royal purse of old Tillydib remained ever filled, which assured the future prosperity of the kingdom of Noland. As for Zixi, she soon became reconciled to her fate and returned to Ix to govern her country with her former liberality and justice. The last wish granted by the magic cloak was doubtless the most beneficial and far-reaching of all, for King Bud ruled many years with exceeding wisdom and gentleness and was greatly beloved by each and every one of his admiring subjects. The cheerfulness and sweet disposition of Princess Fluff became renowned throughout the world, and when she grew to womanhood, many brave and handsome princes from other countries came to Nole to sue for her heart and hand. One of these she married, and reigned as queen of a great nation in after years, winning quite as much love and respect from her people as his loyal subjects bestowed upon her famous brother, King Bud of Noland.
THE END
JOHN DOUGH AND THE CHERUB
Reilly & Britton published John Dough and the Cherub in 1906, with artwork by John R. Neill, best known for illustrating all but the first of Baum’s Oz books. First serialized in newspapers, the fantasy sold well for over a decade. The novel follows the adventures of John Dough, a gingerbread man brought to life by inclusion of the “Great Elixir” in his ingredients. Ali Dubh, who claims the “Great Elixir,” attempts to eat John Dough, but the gingerbread man escapes by rocket to the Isle of Phreex, where he meets Chick the Cherub. Pursued by Ali Dubh, John Dough and Chick the Cherub flee to other exotic islands and magical lands until they find a safe haven. John Dough, Chick the Cherub and a rubber bear they encounter named Para Bruin, visit the Emerald City as guests of Ozma in the fifth Oz book, The Road to Oz. A nasty, gnome-like creature, known as a mifket, appears briefly in Baum’s tenth Oz book, Rinkitink in Oz.
A first edition copy of ‘John Dough and the Cherub’
CONTENTS
Chapter 1: The Great Elixir
Chapter 2: The Two Flasks
Chapter 3: The Gingerbread Man
Chapter 4: John Dough Begins his Adventures
Chapter 5: Chick, the Cherub
Chapter 6: The Freaks of Phreex
Chapter 7: The Lady Executioner
Chapter 8: The Palace of Romance
Chapter 9: The Silver Pig
Chapter 10: Pittypat and the Mifkets
Chapter 11: The Island Princess
Chapter 12: Para Bruin, the Rubber Bear
Chapter 13: Black Ooboo
Chapter 14: Under Land And Water
Chapter 15: The Fairy Beavers
Chapter 16: The Flight of the Flamingoes
Chapter 17: Sport of Pirate Island
Chapter 18: Hiland and Loland
Chapter 19: King Dough and his Court
Chapter 1: The Great Elixir
Over the door appeared a weather-worn sign that read: “Jules Grogrande, Baker.” In one of the windows, painted upon a sheet of cardboard, was another sign: “Home-made Bread by the Best Modern Machinery.” There was a third sign in the window beyond the doorway, and this was marked upon a bit of wrapping-paper, and said: “Fresh Gingerbread Every Day.” When you opened the door, the top of it struck a brass bell suspended from the ceiling and made it tinkle merrily. Hearing the sound, Madame Leontine Grogrande would come from her little room back of the shop and stand behind the counter and ask you what you would like to purchase. Madame Leontine--or Madame Tina, as the children called her--was quite short and quite fat; and she had a round, pleasant face that was good to look upon. She moved somewhat slowly, for the rheumatism troubled her more or less; but no one minded if Madame was a bit slow in tying up her parcels. For surely no cakes or buns in all the town were so delicious or fresh as those she sold, and she had a way of giving the biggest cakes to the smallest girls and boys who came into her shop, that proved she was fond of children and had a generous heart. People loved to come to the Grogrande Bakery. When one opened the door an exquisite fragrance of newly baked bread and cakes greeted the nostrils; and, if you were not hungry when you entered, you were sure to become so when you examined and smelled the delicious pies and doughnuts and gingerbread and buns with which the shelves and show-cases were stocked. There were trays of French candies, too; and because all the goods were fresh and wholesome the bakery was well patronized and did a thriving business. The reason no one saw Monsieur Jules in the shop was because his time was always occupied in the bakery in the rear--a long, low room filled with ovens and tables covered with pots and pans and dishes (which the skillful baker used for mixing and stirring) and long shelves bearing sugars and spices and baking-powders and sweet-smelling extracts that made his wares taste so sweet and agreeable. The bake-room was three times as big as the shop; but Monsieur Jules needed all the space in the preparation of the great variety of goods required by his patrons, and he prided himself on the fact that his edibles were fresh-made each day. In order to have the bread and rolls ready at breakfast time he was obliged to get up at three o’clock every morning, and so he went to bed about sundown. On a certain forenoon the door of the shop opened so abruptly that the little brass bell made a furious jingling. An Arab dashed into the room, stopped short, looked around with a bewildered air, and then rushed away again and banged the door after him. Madame looked surprised, but said nothing. She recognized the Arab to be a certain Ali Dubh, living in the neighborhood, who was accustomed to purchase a loaf from her every morning. Perhaps he had forgotten his money, Madame thought. When the afternoon was half over he entered again, running as if fiends were at his heels. In the center of the room he paused, slapped his forehead despairingly with both palms, and said in a wailing voice: “They’re after me!” Next moment he dashed away at full speed, even forgetting to close the door; so Madame came from behind the counter and did it herself. She delayed a moment to gaze at the figure of Ali Dubh racing up the street. Then he turned the corner of an alley and disappeared from view. Things did not startle Madame easily; but the Arab’s queer behavior aroused in her a mild curiosity, and while she stood looking through the glass of the door, and wondering what had excited the man, she saw two strange forms glide past her shop with a stealthy motion and proceed in the same direction Ali Dubh had taken. They were also Arabs, without a doubt; for although their forms were muffled in long cloaks, the turbans they wore and the glint of their dark, beady eyes proclaimed them children of the desert. When they came to the alley where Ali Dubh had disappeared, the two strangers were joined by a third, who crept up to them with the sly, cat-like tread Madame had noted, and seemed to confer with them. Afterward one turned to the east, a second continued up the street, and the third stole into the alley. “Yes,” thought Madame, “they are after Ali Dubh, sure enough. But if they move so slowly they are not likely to catch the poor fellow at all.” Now, Madame knew very little of her queer customer; for although he made a daily visit to the bakery for a loaf and a few cakes, he was of a gloomy disposition, and never stopped for a chat or a bit of gossip. It was his custom to silently make his simple purchases and then steal softly away. Therefore his excited actions upon this eventful d
ay were really remarkable, and the good lady was puzzled how to explain them. She sat late in the shop that evening, burning a dingy oil lamp that swung in the center of the room. For her rheumatism was more painful than usual, and she dreaded to go to bed and waken Monsieur Jules with her moanings. The good man was slumbering peacefully upstairs--she could hear his lusty snores even where she sat--and it was a shame to disturb him when he must rise so early. So she sat in her little room at the end of the counter, trying to knit by the light of a flickering candle, and rocking back and forth in her chair with a monotonous motion. Suddenly the little bell tinkled and a gust of air entered the shop, sending the mingled odors of baked stuff whirling and scurrying about the room in a most fragrant manner. Then the door closed, and Madame laid down her knitting and turned to greet the new-comer. To her astonishment, it proved to be Ali Dubh. His brown cheeks were flushed, and his glittering black eyes roamed swiftly over the shop before they turned full upon the Madame’s calm face. “Good!” he exclaimed, “you are alone.” “It is too late for trade. I am going to bed presently,” said Madame. “I am in great trouble, and you must help me,” returned the Arab, hastily. “Lock your door and come with me into your little room, so that no one can see us through the street windows.” Madame hesitated. The request was unusual, and she knew nothing of the Arab’s history. But she reflected that if the man attempted robbery or other mischief she could summon Monsieur Jules with a cry. Also, her interest had been aroused by Ali Dubh’s queer behavior during the day. While she thought the matter over the Arab himself locked the street door and hurried into the little room, where Madame composedly joined him a moment later. “How can I help you?” she asked, picking up her knitting again. “Listen!” said the Arab. “I must tell you all. You must know the truth!” He put his hand in a pocket of his loose robe and drew out a small flask. It was no bigger than two fingers and was made of pure gold, upon which strange characters had been richly engraved. “This,” said the Arab, in a low, impressive voice, “is the Great Elixir!” “What does that mean?” asked Madame, glancing at the flask doubtfully. “The Great Elixir? Ah, it is the Essence of Vitality, the Water of Life--the Greatest Thing in all the World!” “I don’t understand,” said Madame. “Not understand? Why, a drop of the priceless liquid which this Golden Flask contains, if placed upon your tongue, would send new life coursing through your veins. It would give you power, strength, vitality greater than youth itself! You could do anything--accomplish wonders--perform miracles--if you but tasted this precious liquid!” “How odd!” exclaimed Madame, beginning to feel bewildered. And then she asked: “Where did you get it?” “Ah! that is the story. That is what you must know,” answered Ali Dubh. “It is centuries old, the Great Elixir. There is no more of it in all the world. The contents of this flask came into the keeping of the Ancestor of the Chief of my Tribe--whom we call a Sheik--and has been handed down from father to son as an heirloom more priceless than diamonds. The Chief of my Tribe, its last owner, carried the flask always hidden in his breast. But one day, when he and I were hunting together, a mad camel trampled the Sheik to his death, and with his last breath he gave the Great Elixir into my keeping. The Sheik had no son, and the flask was really mine. But many other Arab Sheiks longed for the treasure and sought to gain it. So I escaped and wandered over the world. I came here, thinking I was safe from pursuit. But they have followed me!” “All the way from Arabia?” asked Madame. “Yes. To-day I saw them. They know my lodgings. They are secretly hidden near, and before morning I know they plot to kill me and secure the Great Elixir. But for a time I have escaped them. I came here unseen. You must help me. You must take charge of the Great Elixir and keep it safely for me.” “Nonsense!” cried Madame, becoming aroused at last. “Do not say that, I beg of you,” exclaimed the eager Arab. “You are honest--I know you are! And they will never suspect you of having the Golden Flask.” “Perhaps not,” said Madame, “and then, again, they may. My business is to tend the shop, and I am not going to get myself killed by a lot of desperate foreigners just to oblige you, Monsieur Ali Dubh! Take your Great Elixir to some one else. I don’t want it.” For a minute the Arab seemed in despair. Then his face suddenly brightened. “You suffer from rheumatism, do you not?” he asked. “Yes, it’s pretty bad to-night,” she replied. “Then I will cure it! I will cure your pains forever if you will keep my precious Elixir in secret until I come to reclaim it.” Madame hesitated, for just then she had a very bad twinge indeed. “You think you can cure my pains?” she asked. “I know it!” declared the Arab. He put his hand in a pocket and drew out another flask--a mate to the one containing the Great Elixir; only this was made of solid silver instead of gold. “This flask,” said Ali Dubh, “contains a positive cure for rheumatism. It will not fail. It never has failed. Take it and use it to make yourself well. Five drops in a bowl of water are enough. Bathe well the limbs that ache, and all pain will be gone forever. Accept it, gracious Madame, and keep for me the other flask in safe hiding until my enemies have gone away.” Madame was a practical woman, and it seemed an easy thing to do as the Arab desired. If she could get relief from those dreadful pains it would be well worth while to undertake a little trouble and responsibility by caring for Ali Dubh’s other and more precious flask. “Very well,” said she. “I agree.” The Arab’s face flushed with joy. “Good,” he cried; “I am saved! Guard well my precious flask--the one of gold. Show it to no one--not even to your good husband. Remember that diamonds and rubies could not buy the Great Elixir--the marvelous Essence of Vitality. As for the silver flask, I give it to you freely. Its contents will cure all your ailments. And now, good night, and may Allah bless you!” Swiftly he stole from the room, unlocked the street door and vanished into the darkness. And Madame sat looking thoughtfully at the flasks.
Complete Works of L. Frank Baum Page 284