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

In their journey to Ev, Peg and Wag had a night’s start of Kabumpo and Prince Pompadore, but towards morning Wag’s ears began to droop with sleep.

“Gotta natch a sap, Peg,” Wag muttered thickly, as they halted on a little hill.

“Natch a sap? What’s that?” asked the Wooden Doll anxiously. Wag made no answer-just flopped on his side and in a minute was asleep and snoring tremendously.

“Oh!” whispered Peg, pulling herself gently from beneath the sleeping rabbit. “He meant snatch a nap.

She laughed softly and seated herself under a small tree. The birds were beginning to waken and their singing filled Peg Amy with delight. “How wonderful it all is,” she murmured, gazing up at the little ruffly pink clouds. “How wonderful it is to be alive!”

“Hello! Mr. Robin!” she called gaily, as a bird flew to a low bush beside her. “Are your children quite well?”

The robin swung backward and forward on his swaying branch; then burst into his best morning song.

“Oh!” cried Peg Amy, clasping her wooden hands. “I’ve heard that before! But how could I?” she reasoned, “I’m only a Wooden Doll and this is the first morning I have been alive. But then, how did I know it was a robin?”

Peg rubbed her wooden forehead in perplexity, for it was all very puzzling indeed. Below their little hill stretched the lovely land of the Winkies, with its great green forests and little yellow villages. The wind sent the leaves dancing above Peg’s head and the early sun-beams made lovely patterns on the grass.

“I’ve seen it before!” gasped the Wooden Doll breathlessly. “The trees, the birds, the houses and everything!” Springing to her feet she ran awkwardly from bush to tree, touching the leaves and bending over the flowers as if they were old friends. Had it not been for the squeaking of her wooden joints, Peg would almost have forgotten she was a Wooden Doll, for at the sight of the lovely green growing things something warm and sunny seemed to waken in her stiff wooden breast. “I’ve been alive before,” said Peg Amy over and over.

Suddenly, through the still morning air, came a loud, shrill laugh. Peg, who had been standing with her cheek pressed closely against a small tree, swung around quickly-so quickly in fact that she fell over and lay in a ridiculously bent double position before the newcomers.

It was Kabumpo and the Prince of Pumperdink. Traveling by the same road Wag had chosen but much more rapidly, the Elegant Elephant had come at sunrise to the little hill. He had been watching Peg for some time, and when he saw her dance awkwardly over to the tree, he could no longer restrain himself.

“Get out your mirror!” roared Kabumpo, shaking all over with mirth. “Here is your Proper Princess, Pompa, my boy-as royal a maiden as the country boasts. Ho, ho! Kerumph!”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” snapped Pompa, looking down curiously at the comical figure of Peg Amy.

“But she’s so funny!” gasped Kabumpo, the tears rolling down his big cheeks.

“Who’s funny?” demanded an angry voice and Wag, who had been awakened by Kabumpo’s loud roars, hopped up, his ears quivering with rage.

“I’ll pull your long nose for you!” cried Wag, advancing threateningly. “Don’t you dare make fun of Peg. What are you, anyway?”

“Great Grump!” choked Kabumpo, without answering Wag’s inquiry. “What kind of a rabbit is this?”

“A clawing, chawing, scratching kind-as you’ll soon find out!” Wag drew himself up into a ball and prepared to launch himself at Kabumpo’s head, when Peg straightened up and caught him by the ear.

“Don’t, Wag, please,” she begged. “He couldn’t help laughing. I am funny. You know I am!” she sighed a bit ruefully.

“You’re not funny to me,” blustered Wag, still glaring at Kabumpo. “Who does he think he is?”

“I?” sniffed Kabumpo, spreading out his ears complacently, “I am the Elegant Elephant of Pumperdink. Notice my pearls; gaze upon my robe.”

“You don’t look very elegant to me,” snorted Wag. “You look more like a tramp. Says he’s a lelegant nelephant from Dumperpink,” he whispered scornfully to Peg.

“And what’s that you’ve got on your back?” he called, with a wave of his paw at Pompa. “A dunce?”

“Dunce!” screamed Kabumpo furiously. “This is the Prince of Pumperdink, you good-for-nothing lettuce-eater! What do you mean by laughing at royalty?”

“Royalty! Oh, ha, ha, ha!” roared Wag, rolling over and over in the grass. “But he’s so funny!” He paused to take another look at the Prince. At this Kabumpo lunged forward, his eyes snapping angrily.

“Stop!” begged the Prince, tugging Kabumpo by the ear. “You were rude to his friend that-er-doll, so you must expect him to be rude to me. It’s all your fault,” he added reproachfully.

“Are you a Prince?” asked Peg Amy, staring up at Pompa with her round, painted eyes.

“Of course he’s a Prince. Didn’t I say so before? Who is that hoppy creature?”

“That’s Wag-such a dear fellow.” Peg smiled confidently at Kabumpo and he was suddenly ashamed of himself for laughing at her.

“Well, he needn’t get waggish with me,” grumbled the Elegant Elephant in a lower voice.

“Oh, don’t quarrel!” begged Peg. “It’s such a lovely morning and you both look so interesting.”

Kabumpo eyed the big Wooden Doll attentively. It was smart of her to think him interesting. He cleared his throat gruffly. “You’re not as funny as you look,” he admitted grandly, which was the nearest to an apology he had ever come. “But what are you doing here and why are you alive?”

“I don’t know,” explained Peg apologetically. “It just happened last night.”

“It did? Well, where are you going?” Wag still looked cross and his nose was twitching violently, but Peg politely answered Kabumpo’s question.

“We’re on our way to Ev to try to help Ozma,” said the Wooden Doll, folding her hands quaintly.

“Why so are we!” cried Pompa, sliding down Kabumpo’s trunk in a hurry.

“How do you expect to help her?” grunted Kabumpo, looking at Wag and Peg contemptuously.

“Don’t mind him,” begged Pompa, running up to Peg Amy. “Tell me everything you know about Ozma. Is she pretty?”

“Beautiful,” breathed Peg, looking up at the sky. “Beautiful and lovely and good. That’s why I want to help her.”

“Then I sha’n’t mind marrying her at all,” said Pompa, with a great sigh of relief.

“Gooch!” roared Kabumpo angrily-“Telling everything you know!”

“Do you mean to say you think Ozma would marry you?” gasped Wag, sitting up with a jerk. “Oh, my wocks and hoop soons!” His ears crossed and uncrossed and with a final gurgle of disbelief Wag fell back on the grass.

“Well, is there anything so strange in that?” asked Pompa in a hurt voice. “I’ve got to marry her,” he added, desperately appealing to Peg Amy. And while Kabumpo stood sulkily swinging his trunk the Prince told Peg the whole story of the magic scroll.

“I said you looked interesting,” breathed Peg, as Pompa paused for breath. “Did you hear that, Wag? Unless he marries a Proper Princess in a proper time his whole Kingdom will disappear—his Kingdom and everyone in it!”

“But how do you know Ozma is the Proper Princess?” asked Wag, chewing a blade of grass. “The scroll didn’t say Ozma, did it?”

“Kabumpo thinks Ozma is the Proper Princess,” explained Pompadore, nodding toward the Elegant Elephant, “and he’s usually right!”

“Humph!” sniffed Wag. “Well, maybe you are a Prince. You’re not really bad looking if you had some fur on your head,” he remarked more amiably. “What happened? Somebody pull it out?”

“Oh, Wag!” murmured Peg Amy, in a shocked voice.

“Burned off,” sighed Pompa, and proceeded to tell of their fall into the Illumi Nation. He even told them about the Soup Sea and of their meeting with Glinda, the Good.

“Don’t you care,” said the big Wooden Doll, as Pompa mournfully rubbed his scorched head. “It will soon grow again and I don’t see how Ozma could help loving you-you’re so tall, and so polite.” This kind little speech affected Pompa so deeply that he dropped on one knee and raised Peg’s wooden hand to his lips.

“The creature has a lot of sense,” mumbled Kabumpo, with his mouth full of leaves.

“Creature!” exclaimed Wag, sitting up straight and opening his eyes wide. “Her name is Peg Amy, Mr. Nelegant Lelephant.”

“Oh, all right,” sniffed Kabumpo hastily. “But you’ll have to admit she’s curious.”

“Of course she is,” said Wag complacently. “That’s why I like her. She wasn’t cut out to be a beauty, but to be companionable, and she is. When you’ve known Peg as long as I have”-Wag paused impressively-“you’ll be proud to carry her on your back, Mr. Long Nose!”

“I’ve only known her a few minutes and I adore her!” said Pompa heartily. “Mistress Peg and I are good friends already.” Peg curtseyed awkwardly. “I’ve done this before,” she reflected curiously to herself.

“Shall we tell them about Ruggedo?” Peg asked aloud, turning to Wag.

“Yes, do!” begged Pompa. “Tell us something about yourselves. I never saw so large a rabbit in my life as Wag and as for you!”-Pompa paused, for Wag was eyeing him resentfully-“you are the largest, most delightful doll I have ever met, the only alive one, I might say. How did you know about Ozma’s disappearance and how were you going to help her?”

“Mixed Magic!” whispered Wag, crossing his ears and his eyes as well. “Mixed Magic!”

“Magic?” gulped Kabumpo, swallowing a branch of sticky leaves whole. “Have you any magic?”

“A whole box full,” sighed Peg Amy, patting her pocket softly.

“In that box is the magic that brought Peg to life!” shrilled Wag, pointing a trembling paw. In that box is the magic that made us grow. In that box is the magic that caused Ozma’s castle to disappear-!”

“Great Grump!” whistled Kabumpo. “How fortunate we fell in with them, Pompa.” He held out his trunk. “Give me the box, my good girl, and you shall be fittingly rewarded when Pompa is King of Oz.”

“That’s a long time to wait,” chuckled Wag, tickled by Kabumpo’s outrageous impudence. “No, Peg and I will just keep the box, thank you.

“Of course you will,” said Prince Pompadore, frowning at Kabumpo. “But as we are both bound on the same errand, let us travel together. Kabumpo and I are going to kill the giant who ran off with the castle.”

The Prince held up his long sword. “And if you can help us, I shall thank you from the bottom of my heart.” Pompa stretched out his hand impulsively.

“Well, that’s more like,” said Wag, pulling his ear thoughtfully. “And four heads are better than two!”

“Of course we’ll help you!” cried Peg Amy. “The trouble is, we don’t know ourselves how to open the magic box, but we do know that Ruggedo is in Ev and when we get there we will make him open the box and undo all this mischief.”

“You mentioned him before,” said Kabumpo, holding up his trunk. “Who is Ruggedo and what has he to do with Ozma?”

“Ruggedo is a wicked little gnome,” explained Peg Amy gravely. “He used to be King of the Gnomes but he was banished from his Kingdom and Ozma gave him a little cottage in the Emerald City. He pretended to live there, but instead he tunneled a cave right underneath