Kabumpo in Oz, Ruth Plumly Thompson [the snowy day read aloud TXT] 📗

>“I never thought I’d be so thrilled by a common soup bowl,” thought Kabumpo, staring at the Prince in amusement. He stepped out on a rock and dipped up a bowl of the hot liquid.

“Here! Drink!” commanded the Elegant Elephant, handing the bowl to the Prince. “Drink to the Proper Princess and the future Queen of Pumperdink.”

“Don’t go,” begged the Prince between gulps, “I shall want two-three-several!”

Kabumpo laughed good naturedly. “This is the pleasantest thing that has happened to us. Here! have another!”

Then both Pompa and the Elegant Elephant gasped, for out of the bubbling waves arose the most curious figure that they had ever seen-the most curious and the jolliest. He was made entirely of soup bones, and his head was a monster cabbage, with a soup bowl set jauntily on the side for a cap. For a cabbage head he sang very well and this was the song to which he kept time by waving a silver ladle:

“Ho! I am the King of the Soup Sea,

Yes, I am the King of the Deep;

My crown is a bowl and my scepter a ladle,

I fell in the soup when I fell from the cradle,

And find it exceedingly cheap!

I stir it up nightly, and pepper it rightly—

A liquid perfection you’ll find.

And here is a roll, sirs,

So fill up your bowl, sirs,

And think of me after you’ve dined.”

When he came to “dined,” the Soup King gave a playful leap and disappeared backward into the waves.

Pompa rubbed his eyes and looked at Kabumpo to see whether he had been dreaming.

“Oh!” cried Kabumpo, his eyes as round as little saucers. Floating gently toward them were two large, crisp, buttered rolls.

“The most charming King I’ve ever met,” chuckled Kabumpo, scooping up the rolls and handing them to Pompa.

Pompa, staring dreamily ahead, first took a drink of soup, then a nibble of roll, too happy for speech. Four times the Elegant Elephant refilled the bowl. Then, his stomach full for the first time since they had left Pumperdink, the Prince stretched himself out on the sands.

“Now,” puffed the Elegant Elephant ceremoniously, “if you think you’ve had quite enough, I’ll snatch a few bites myself.” Chuckling softly he made his way back to some young trees, and dined luxuriously off their tops.

When he returned to the beach, Pompa was fast asleep, and for a few moments Kabumpo was inclined to sleep himself. “But then,” he reflected, “Ozma may require a lot of coaxing before she consents to marry Pompa, and two of our precious seven days are gone. It is plainly my duty to save Pumperdink. Besides, when Pompa is married he will be King of Oz! Then I, the Elegant Elephant, will be the biggest figure at Court.”

Kabumpo threw up his trunk and trumpeted softly to the stars. Then, giving himself a big shake and a little stretch, he lifted the sleeping Prince to his back and started on again. In about two hours he had circled the Soup Sea and, guiding himself by a particularly bright and twinkling star, ran swiftly and steadily toward the South.

As the first streaks of dawn appeared in the sky, Kabumpo passed through a quaint little Gilliken village. He snatched a bag of rolls from a doorstep and stuck them into his pocket, but he did not stop, and so fast asleep was the little village that except for a few wide-awake roosters, no one knew how important a person had passed through.

The sky grew pinker and pinker. You have no idea how pink the morning skies in Oz can be. Just as the sun got out of bed, the Elegant Elephant came to the wonderful Emerald City itself, shining and fairylike as a dream under the lovely colors of sunrise. Kabumpo paused and took a deep breath. Even he was impressed, and it took a good bit to impress him. He reached back and touched Pompa with his trunk.

“Wake up, my boy,” whispered Kabumpo in a trembling voice. “Wake up and put on your crown, for we have come to the city of your Proper Princess.”

Pompa sat up and rubbed his eyes in amazement. Without a word, he took the crown Kabumpo handed up to him, and set it on his scorched, golden head. Accustomed as Pompa was to grandeur, for Pumperdink is very magnificent in its funny old-fashioned way, he could not help but gasp at Ozma’s fair city. The lovely green parks, and houses studded with countless emeralds, the shining marble streets, filled the Prince with wonder.

“I don’t believe she’ll ever marry me,” he stuttered, beginning to feel quite frightened at his boldness.

“Nonsense,” wheezed Kabumpo faintly. He was beginning to have misgivings himself. “Sit up now! Look your best, and I’ll carry you straight into the palace gardens.”

No one was awake. Even the Soldier with the Green Whiskers lay snoring against a tree, so that Kabumpo stole unobserved into the Royal Gardens.

“I don’t see the palace,” whispered Pompa anxiously. “Wouldn’t it show above the trees?”

“It ought to,” said Kabumpo, wrinkling up his forehead. “But look! Who is that?”

Pompa’s heart almost stopped, and even Kabumpo’s gave a queer jump. On a golden bench, just ahead, sat the loveliest person either had seen in all of their eighteenth birthdays.

“Ozma,” gasped the Elegant Elephant, as soon as he had breath enough to whisper. “What luck! You must ask her at once.

“Not now,” begged the Prince of Pumperdink, as Kabumpo unceremoniously helped him to the ground. His knees shook, his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. He had never proposed to a Fairy Princess before in his whole life. Then all at once he had an idea. Slipping his hand into the Elegant Elephant’s pocket, he drew out the magic mirror. “I’ll see if she’s a princess,” stuttered Pompa.

The elephant shook his head angrily but was afraid to speak again lest he disturb the quiet figure on the bench.

“And I’ll not propose unless she is the one,” said Pompa, tip-toeing toward the bench. Without making a sound he suddenly held the mirror before the startled and lovely lady.

“Glinda, good Sorceress of Oz,” flashed the mirror promptly.

“Great gooseberries!” cried Glinda, springing to her feet in alarm and swinging around on Pompa. “Where did you come from?” After studying a whole day and night in her magic books, Glinda had returned to the Emerald City to try to perfect her plan for rescuing Ozma.

“From Pumperdink, your Highness,” puffed Kabumpo, lunging forward anxiously. He, too, had seen the words in the mirror and the fear of offending a Sorceress made him quake in his skin-which was loose enough to quake in, dear knows!

“A thousand pardons!” cried the Prince, dropping on one knee and taking off his crown.

“We were seeking Princess Ozma, the Fairy Ruler of Oz.”

Glinda looked from Kabumpo to the Prince and controlled a desire to laugh. The Elegant Elephant’s torn and scorched robe hung in rags from his shoulders and his jeweled headpiece was dangling over one ear. Pompa’s clothes were equally shabby and his almost bald head with a lock sticking up here and there gave him a singular and comical appearance.

“Pumperdink?” mused Glinda, tapping her foot thoughtfully. Then, like a flash she remembered the entry in the Book of Records-“The Prince of Pumperdink is journeying toward the Emerald City.”

“Why did you want to see Ozma?” asked Glinda anxiously. Perhaps these two strangers could throw some light on the mysterious disappearance of the Royal Palace.

“Our country was threatened with disappearance and I thought-”

“He thought Ozma might help us,” finished the Elegant Elephant breathlessly. He did not believe in telling strange Sorceresses about everything. Now if Glinda had not been so occupied with the disappearance of the palace and all the dearest people in Oz, she might have been more curious about the disappearance of Pumperdink. As it was she just shook her head sadly. “I’m afraid Ozma cannot help you,” she said, “for Ozma herself has disappeared-Ozma and everyone in the palace.”

“Disappeared!” trumpeted the Elegant Elephant, sitting down with a thud. “Great Grump! The thing’s getting to be a habit!”

What was to become of Pompa now? Would he never be King, nor he, Kabumpo, ever be known as the most Elegant Elephant in Oz? Had they made the long journey in vain?

“Where? When?” gasped Prince Pompadore.

“Night before last,” explained Glinda. “I’ve been consulting my magic books ever since but have only been able to discover one fact.”

“What is that?” asked Kabumpo faintly.

“That they are in Ev,” said Glinda, “and that a giant carried them off. I came here early this morning to see whether I could discover anything new. Would you care to see where the castle stood?”

“Did he carry the castle off, too?” shuddered Pompa. Glinda nodded gloomily and led them over to the great hole in the center of the gardens.

For a minute she stood watching them. Then, glancing at a golden sun dial set in the center of a lovely flower bed, she murmured half to herself, “I must be off!” Next instant she clapped her hands and down swept a shining chariot drawn by white swans.

“Goodbye!” called Glinda, springing in lightly. “I’m off to Ev to try my magic against the giant’s. Wait here and when I’ve helped Ozma perhaps I can help you!”

“Can’t we help? Can’t we go?” cried Pompa, running a few steps after the chariot, but Glinda, already high in the air, did not hear him and in the wink of an eye the chariot and its lovely occupant had melted into the pink morning clouds.

“Now what shall we do?” groaned the Prince, letting his arms drop heavily at his sides.

“Do!” snorted Kabumpo. “The thing for you to do is to act like a Prince instead of a Gooch! There are other ways of getting to Ev than by chariot.”

The thought of Kabumpo in Glinda’s chariot made Pompa smile in spite of himself.

“There! That’s better,” said the Elegant Elephant more pleasantly.

“Now, what’s to hinder us from going to Ev and rescuing Princess Ozma? She couldn’t help marrying you if you saved her from a giant, could she?”

“But could I save her-that’s the question,” muttered the Prince, looking uneasily at the yawning cavity where the castle had stood. “This giant must be a terrible fellow!”

“Pooh!” said Kabumpo airily. “Who’s afraid of giants? I’ll wind my trunk around his leg and pull him to earth. Then you can dispatch the villain. We must get you a sword, though,” he added softly.

“All right! I’ll do it!” cried the Prince, throwing out his chest. The very thought of killing a giant made him feel about ten feet high. “Do you know the way to Ev, Kabumpo? We’ll have to hurry, because unless I marry Ozma before the seven days are up my poor old father and mother and all of Pumperdink will disappear forever.”

You see, even Pompa had now got it into his head that Ozma was the Proper Princess mentioned in the scroll.

“We’ll start at once,” sighed the Elegant Elephant a bit ruefully. “I’ve had no sleep and precious little to eat but when you are King of Oz you can reward old Kabumpo as he deserves.”

“Everything I have will be yours,” cried the Prince, giving the elephant, or as much of him as he could grasp, a sudden hug. Then each took a long drink from one of the bubbling fountains and, munching the rolls Kabumpo had picked up in the Gilliken village, the two adventurers stole out of the gardens.

As they reached the gates, Kabumpo paused and his little eyes twinkled with delight. There lay the Soldier with the Green Whiskers, snoring tremendously and beside