Royal Book of Oz | Page 2

to bed!" she shouted gaily, then, catching Ozma's disapproving glance, fell over backwards.
"I don't understand it at all," said Jack Pumpkinhead in a depressed voice. "I'm afraid my head's too ripe."
"Nor I," said Tik-Tok, the copper clockwork man. "Please wind me up a lit-tle tight-er Dor-o-thy, I want to think!"
Dorothy obligingly took a key suspended from a hook on his back and wound him up under his left arm. Everybody began to talk at once, and what with the Cowardly Lion's deep growl and Tik-Tok's squeaky voice and all the rest of the tin and meat and wooden voices, the confusion was terrible. "Wait!" cried Ozma, clapping her hands. Immediately the room grew so still that one could hear Tik-Tok's machinery whirring 'round. "Now!" said Ozma, "One at a time, please, and let us hear from the Scarecrow first."
The Scarecrow rose. "I think, your Highness," he said modestly, "that anyone who has studied his Geozify already knows who we are and"
"Who you are?" broke in the Wogglebug scornfully, "Of course they do. But I shall tell them who you were!"
"Who I were?" gasped the Scarecrow in a dazed voice, raising his cotton glove to his forehead. "Who I were? Well, who were I?"
"That's just the point," said Professor Wogglebug. "Who were you? Who were your ancestors? Where is your family? Where is your family tree? From what did you descend?"
At each question, the Scarecrow looked more embarrassed. He repeated the last one several times. "From what did I descend? From what did I descend? Why, from a bean pole!" he cried.
This was perfectly true, for Dorothy, a little girl blown by a Kansas cyclone to the Kingdom of Oz, had discovered the Scarecrow in a farmer's cornfield and had lifted him down from his pole. Together they had made the journey to the Emerald City, where the Wizard of Oz had fitted him out with a fine set of brains. At one time, he had ruled Oz and was generally considered its cleverest citizen.
Before he could reply further, the Patchwork Girl, who was simply irrepressible, burst out:
"An ex-straw-ordinary man is he! A bean pole for his family tree, A Cornishman, upon my soul, Descended from a tall, thin Pole!"
"Nonsense!" said Professor Wogglebug sharply, "Being stuffed with straw may make him extraordinary, but it is quite plain that the Scarecrow was nobody before he was himself. He has no ancestors, no family; only a bean pole for a family tree, and is therefore entitled to the merest mention in the Royal Book of Oz!"
"How about my brains?" asked the Scarecrow in a hurt voice. "Aren't they enough?"
"Brains have simply nothing to do with royalty!" Professor Wogglebug waved his fountain pen firmly. "Now"
"But see here, wasn't I ruler of Oz?" put in the Scarecrow anxiously. "A Ruler but never a royalty!" snapped out the Professor. "Now, if you will all answer my questions as I call your names, I'll get the necessary data and be off." He took out a small memorandum book. "Your Highness," he bowed to Ozma, "need not bother. I have already entered your name at the head of the list. Being descended as you are from a long line of fairies, your family tree is the oldest and most illustrious in Oz. Princess Dorothy!"
At the sound of her name, the little girl stood up.
"I know you are from Kansas and were created a Princess of Oz by our gracious Ruler, but can you tell me anything of your ancestors in America?"
demanded the Professor, staring over the top of his thick glasses.
"You'll have to ask Uncle Henry and Aunt Em," said Dorothy rather sulkily.
The Professor had hurt the feelings of her best friend, the Scarecrow, and ancestors did not interest her one little bit.
"Very well," said the Professor, writing industriously in his book. "I'll just enter you as `Dorothy, Princess of Oz and sixth cousin to a President!' "
"I'm not!" Dorothy shook her head positively.
"Oh, everyone in America can claim that!" said the Professor easily. "Nick Chopper!"
Now up rose our old friend the Tin Woodman, who had also been discovered by Dorothy on her first trip to the Fairyland of Oz.
"You were a man of meat at one time and a woodman by trade?" queried Professor Wogglebug, poising his pen in the air.
"I am a Tin Woodman, and you may enter me in your book under the name of Smith, for a tin Smith made me, and as Royal Emperor of the Winkies, I do not care to go back to my meat connections," said the Tin Woodman in a dignified voice.
The company applauded, and the Cowardly Lion thumped the floor with his tail. "Smith is a very good name. I can work up a whole chapter on that," smiled the Professor. The Tin Woodman had once been a