L. Frank Baum - Oz 34

by The Wonder City Of Oz

  in dismay.

  The chocolate army loomed around them, so close now that Jenny could see how the soldiers were made. They all looked alike, as if they had been taken from the same mold. Each had a bulge on the left of his nose, and a wiggly line running down his side. Their feet could not be seen, for they were sliding under the surface of the mush. “Why, they look de-feeted already!” Jenny said.

  They all moved together. They all acted as one man. ‘When one head turned, all heads turned. When one spoke, all spoke together,

  “Halt! Aim! Fire!” The soldiers stopped and raised their chocolate guns. Ping! Ping! Ping!

  Chocolate drops began spattering the three prisoners.

  Jack Pumpkinhead, wiping the chocolate out of his eyes, said, “What are they so all-fired mad

  about?”

  Jenny was trying hard to keep her temper down, but in spite of herself it was rising.

  “They’re making a mess of things!” she said.

  Scraps was the only one who was delighted with the battle. She was so excited that she forgot to rhyme. She crouched and then leaped up, throwing herself and swinging her fists at the nearest chocolate soldier, who had been firing at Jenny. “Monkey face!” she cried at him. She pushed him. He toppled sidewise, throwing his neighbor off balance. He in turn bumped over the next, and he the next, until all the soldiers were lying in the chocolate mud.

  With a great effort, the first soldier righted himself, and, as he came up, the rest also rose.

  The first soldier fired at Scraps and then knocked her down with the butt of his gun. Scraps was gripped in the chocolate bog, held by her knee and elbow. Jenny tried to pull herself out of the mire and help Scraps. But the ooze held her fast. Jack

  Pumpkinhead was sinking deeper all the time.

  The soldiers ordered themselves, “Cease firing! Advance!” They shouldered their guns and marched up to Jenny, Scraps, and Jack Pumpkinhead. They raised their hands and all pointed to the ozoplane.

  “No trespassing!” they all said together.

  “Is that why you are so black in the face? We meant no harm,” said Jenny.

  The hands all swung as one hand, pointing at her: “No parking on this star!”

  “We had engine trouble,” said Jenny.

  “Get out! The kit and kaboodle of you!” choruse the soldiers.

  “We can’t, you thick-heads! The plane is stuck

  fast.”

  “You are under arrest!” spoke the soldiers. And then they ordered themselves, “Throw them in prison !”

  They all marched closer and pulled Scraps, Jenny, and Jack Pumpkinhead out of the soft chocolate.

  “Forward march!” said the soldiers together and dragged their prisoners across the valley.

  When they reached the higher chocolate soil, the footing became firmer. The prisoners could walk by themselves. But the guard kept in close formation around them.

  Jack, Scraps, and Jenny kept near each other. Jack took Jenny’s hand and patted it. His deep eyes showed his anxiety.

  “This is a pretty kettle of fudge,” he spoke sadly. “If I could eat, I’d make a meal of all these soldiers.”

  “There are too many of them for me to eat,” Jenny replied. “I’d get indigestion eating just a leg of one of those giants.”

  Scraps kept sticking out her velvet tongue at the soldiers. Her shoebutton eyes glinted. She kept daring them to box with her, but the soldiers ignored her, except to push her with a gun butt when she got too wild.

  “I suppose their prison is made of bitter chocolate,” said Jenny. “It will be bitter for me if they keep me locked up here. I won’t be able to get any votes and I’ll lose the ozlection.”

  From below, in the valley, came a sad song. It was the shoes, singing in the ozoplane.

  “How canst thou leave us?

  How canst thou from us part?” The prisoners and the soldiers climbed up the chocolate cliffs to the top of a sugar-coated peak. Here was a large encampment. The barracks were made of chocolate blocks, roofed with sugar frost-Page 115

  ing. The three prisoners were marched into a tent where a moody-looking chocolate General sat on a large chocolate cake.

  There wasn’t enough room in the tent for all the soldiers. Since none of them would go in without the others, they all waited outside. Jenny, Jack, and Scraps were pushed into the tent. They stopped before the giant chocolate General.

  “Please let us go,” said Jenny. “We meant no

  harm.”

  The chocolate General frowned darkly. “Your flying machine has spoiled a valley of good chocolate sauce. It was to have made me a thousand soldiers that I need for my attack on Oz.”

  “What !” exclaimed Jenny. “Are you going to attack Oz?”

  “Certainly. The hour of the attack is set. Tomorrow my soldiers, dressed in tinfoil armor, will ride a silver cloud to the very gate of the Emerald

  City!”

  “Oh, oh,” cried Jenny, “someone must warn Ozma.”

  The General started up wrathfully. “No one is going to warn Ozma! The three of you will be thrown behind chocolate bars for the rest of your

  lives?”

  Jack Pumpkinhead, Scraps, and Jenny exchanged

  looks of dismay. Jack cried out, “The rest of our lives? Why, the people of Oz live forever !”

  “Then you shall be my captives forever! HA! HA! HA !” laughed the General. He called to the soldiers outside.

  “Put the Pumpkinhead and the Rags Creature in one prison, and that real girl in a prison by herself. Guard them well !”

  The three prisoners went unhappily from the tent. Outside, the soldiers led them off to the prisons.

  CHAPTER 18

  Number Nine Runs the Shop

  MEANWHILE, back in the Emerald City, the house on Strawberry Street waited for Jenny to return. But all that night it was empty. Wishing to surprise Jenny when she returned, it set about preparing breakfast. The forks, knives, and plates set themselves on the table. The ladle battered some oriole eggs and strawberry juice in a bowl and thickened it with rose flour. The ‘waffle iron connected itself, and when it was warm the mixing bowl poured its batter onto it. When the waffle was

  finished, it turned itself out onto a plate, and the plate slipped into the oven, keeping warm until Jenny’s return.

  Then the kitchen swept itself with the broom, and the sink set about cleaning the pans. Reaching into the garden, the house picked a nosegay of dewy morning flowers and set it in a vase on the table.

  It was the most inviting breakfast scene. But no Jenny appeared to enjoy it. Instead, coming up the stairs of the shop was Number Nine. He was earlier than usual, for he was lonely for Jenny. Yesterday he had missed his Boss while he fished alone at the river.

  “Maybe she will grow young enough to enjoy fishing soon,” he thought, as he walked into the Style Shop. He looked around at the empty shop. Where was Jenny? Going into the other rooms, he saw that she had not slept in her bed.

  “Maybe she’ll come back soon. I’ll run the shop for her while she is gone,” he thought.

  Number Nine got a dust cloth and polished the turn~style until it shone. As he finished this task, he heard a clatter of hooves, and many voices. He ran to the door, and there he saw his mother and father and thirteen sisters and brothers sitting in the farm wagon. Hitched to the wagon were his

  father’s four blue mules, whose ears were so long that they reached to the second story of the house. The children were all dressed in dainty blue clothing. They looked very happy.

  When the family saw Number Nine at the door of the Style Shop, they waved, jumped down from the wagon, and ran in to kiss him.

  The mules hee-hawed their greeting.

  “We have come to town to get four blue-blooded horses and to see how our dear Number Nine is getting along,” said the father. “We are going to stay at Uncle’s house for a few days. He will be glad to have company.”

  Number Nine’s mother put her arm a
round him, “City life agrees with you, son. You are looking such a nice deep blue. Those breeches aren’t the same that I made for you, are they?” She pointed to the whistlebreeches. Number Nine felt very important.

  “My Boss made them with the magic turn-style,” he said. “I can make them play. Listen.”

  Number Nine sat down, put his feet up on the counter, and lazily crossed his arms. Immediately the four whistles struck up a tune.

  “Well, bless my nose!” said his father. Number Nine got out of his chair. “I’m in charge

  here today,” he said importantly. “I can’t loaf.”

  He led his mother around the shop, showing her the patterns and styles. She kept saying, “oh,” and “ahz,” and “most oztonishing!”

  The children were running here and there, while their father examined the turn-style. “Is this the magic contraption?” he asked.

  “Yes. Would you like a new suit, father?”

  “Sure you can suit me? I want something practical, for the farm work.”

  “Just go through the turn-style,” urged Number Nine, “and I’ll push the buttons.”

  The father hesitated awhile, stroking his chin and gazing at the turn-style. At last he went through. Number Nine pushed many buttons, and the farmer came out dressed in a suit of blue cloth. It was mostly wool, mixed with rubber, twisted through with silk, and woven around with fine wire. It was the stoutest ozwoven product.

  “That’s just what I want,” said the farmer. “My goat can’t chew this up!”

  All the children began clamoring to go through the turn-style. “Mother comes first,” said Number Nine. “Come on, mother. Tell me what style you want”

  Mother was all aflutter. She hung back, saying, “Why, my dress is good enough. I worked on it a long time. Guess I’ll go through the turn-style some other day.”

  “Oh, mother! Now, mother!” cried all the children. “We want to see how pretty you can be.”

  They got behind her and pushed her against the turn-style. Sister Six, a bright blue-faced girl, said, “Let me work the buttons, Number Nine. I know what’s becoming to mother better than you do.”

  Sister Six pushed the buttons, and the mother went through the turn-style. When she came out, the shop was filled with the children’s exclamations of delight. Her dress was of two interchanging colors. First it was blue, then the blue disappeared and it was violet, then it changed back to blue. When she moved, the skirt rustled like flowers in the gentle breeze of a garden.

  “You look just like a princess!” the girls cried.

  “I’m thrilled,” said the mother. “I wouldn’t have missed this for anything.”

  Now it was the children’s turn. They lined up. There were so many of them, that Numbers Twelve, Thirteen, and Fourteen, who were at the end of the line, had to stand outside.

  Number Nine took charge of the turn-style. His

  family admired him greatly, and he felt very proud of himself. First he sent them through and gave each a pair of pajamas. Then he said: “You can have any kind of clothes you want.”

  The line of children started through the turn-style, and Number Nine was busy pushing the buttons for COLOR, SIZE, MATERIAL, and STYLE. The older children came out dressed in the costumes they had asked for. When the smallest girls came out, they were wearing long dresses’, long gloves, high-heeled shoes, and plumed hats, and were carrying vanity bags. The little boys came out wearing long trousers, high silk hats, white bow ties. They were carrying canes and wearing big watches in their vest pockets.

  The Style Shop was filled with squeals.

  The father went off to get the blue-blooded horses for his farm. The boys and girls played in the attic. The smallest children, all wearing their grown-up clothes, paraded to the public fountain for ozcream sodas.

  When the other children in the Emerald City saw these little Munchkins dressed in long dresses, plumed hats, and men’s suits, they ran to the Style Shop and begged Number Nine to let them go through the turn-style, too. Number Nine became so busy serving these little customers that his mother

  and Sister Six had to help.

  As soon as the children had new clothes, they ran out again. Soon the city was full of children dressed like grown-ups, drinking sodas at the public fountain.

  At noon the shop was empty of customers. All the children went to their homes for lunch. Number Nine’s family gathered in Jenny’s kitchen and watched the utensils make the meal. The mixmaster wanted to take charge of the cooking.

  The carving knife whittled the potatoes. The chopping knife went after the meat and made a fine hash of it. The oven opened its door and pushed out Jenny’s breakfast waffle for the Munchkin children to enjoy. The stove sizzled merrily, the tea kettle hummed. Every so often, the pan covers danced together like cymbals. Each part of the kitchen did its best to entertain the family while the lunch was getting itself ready.

  The salt and pepper holders were shaking with mirth. The table jigged on its four legs. Number Nine joined his family and sat laughing with them, forgetting the shop. When the meal was ready, the whole family went into the dining-room to eat it.

  But in the shop something was happening. Two bowlegged gnomes had just entered on pointed tiptoe. Seeing nobody about, they were sniffing to see what mischief they could do. They were short and earth colored, with pointed ears, hands, and feet. One was dressed in a green waistcoat and red pantaloons, the other had a red waistcoat and green pantaloons.

  “Say, Umph,” said the one in red pantaloons, “what’s this shiny doo-dad with the four arms and buttons?”

  Umph had climbed onto the third shelf with a monkey wrench and was trying to unbolt the metal cloth. He looked down at the turn-style, to which the other gnome was pointing.

  “Put a yard of distance between you and it, Grumph,” warned the gnome on the shelf. “Those arms might box your ears.”

  “Pooh! The only thing I’m afraid of is eggs. And there aren’t any eggs in this shop.”

  Grumph went closer to the turn-style and began poking at the buttons. “See, Umph? It can’t hurt a body,” he said. He leaned against one of the spokes and accidentally pushed himself through. Then he danced with delight.

  “Snakes and snorts!” he cried. “Look, Umph, I’m covered with warts! Big, black ones. Now I’ll be the handsomest gnome in the gnome kingdom!”

  From head to foot, Grumph was covered with warts. They were so large that they pushed out his clothes. Umph looked down enviously.

  He slid down from the shelf. “You’re right,” he said. “An’d won’t it be good to get back to the damp, dark underworld! All this sunshine in Oz is making my complexion too clear. I think I’ll go through that thing and get some warts, too.”

  Umph went through the turn-style and came out as warty as Grumph. The two gnomes looked at each other and scowled.

  Said Umph, “Now I am the handsomest gnome in the gnome kingdom!”

  “No, I am,” declared Grumph.

  “You are not! I am,” shouted Umph, and shook his fist in the other’s face.

  “No, I am!”

  “No, I am!”

  “No, I am!” Grumph screamed in rage, and kicked Umph on his biggest wart.

  “My warts are the ugliest!” cried Umph, and he pulled Grumph’s whiskers.

  “But mine are bigger,” yelled Grumph.

  “They are not!”

  “Yes, they are!”

  Suddenly Umph let go Grumph’s beard. “What’s that?” he said. A whoop and a laugh had come from Jenny’s dining-room, where the meal had just set itself upon the table.

  “Whisk! Scamper!” warned Umph.

  “First we take the wart machine,” said Grumph. The two gnomes seized the turn-style and jerked it so hard that its screws and bolts were torn loose from the floor. As soon as it was no longer screwed down, its lovely new enamel turned to rust. The gnomes were delighted at this change. Carrying the turn-style between them, they hustled toward the fireplace and pu
shed it up into the chimney. Then they crawled in after it.

  “Isn’t it wonderfully dark in here?” Umph asked. “Yes, and this soot is filling my nostrils as pleasantly as burning sulphur perfume,” said Grumph.

  “Tonight, when the Oz people are sleeping, we’ll creep out and take the machine away with us,” whispered Grumph in the dark chimney.

  CHAPTER 19

  The Turn-Style Is Rescued

  NUMBER NINE and his family were eating their

  third dessert, when the whistlebreeches began whistling, reminding the boy that his lunch hour was over.

  “I must get back to the shop,” he said, rising from

  the table.

  “May I come and help work the turn-style?” ask

  Sister Six.

  “Come along.”

  The girl ran ahead of Number Nine, and as the boy was stepping into the shop, he heard her cry, “It’s gone!”

  “What is gone?” he asked.

  “The turn-style. Look!”

  Number Nine ran forward. His heart sank with despair. The turn-style was no longer in its place!

  “Help! Thieves! The turn-style has been stolen !” they both shouted.

  The Munchkin family came running in from the dining-room. When they learned what had happened, they began shouting, too. Number Nine was almost weeping.

  “What will Jenny say? This is the first time I’ve been in charge of the shop, and this had to happen!”