The Wishing Horse of Oz was written by Ruth Plumly Thompson and L. Frank Baum and follows more of Dorothy’s exciting adventures. This time, there’s horses.
A Great Celebration in Oz
“Why all the crown jewels, old Toz?” Resting his chin on the window ledge, Highboy looked inquiringly into the dressing room of Joe King, ruler of the Gillikens and all of the purple countries of Oz. The King’s apartment was on the tenth floor of the royal palace, but this made no difference to Highboy, for Highboy was a giant horse whose telescope legs could be raised or lowered to any level, making him one of the most amazing and amusing animals in Oz. “I say, are we going anywhere in particular?” he drawled curiously as the King, decked out in his best braided traveling coat and amethyst crown, surveyed himself cheerfully in the long mirror.
“WE!” chuckled the merry monarch, turning round with a hearty roar. “Ho, Ho, HO! And how do you know YOU are going?”
“Well, I see you are wearing your best purple boots, and when the King of all the Gillikens wears his best purple boots, he usually rides his best purple horse, does he not?”
“Right,” admitted the King good naturedly. “And I might as well tell you at once that we are going to the capital at the express invitation of her Imperial Highness, Queen Ozma of Oz!” The King cleared his throat importantly. “There is to be an immense festival to celebrate the discovery of Oz by mortals, the honors to be equally divided between the famous Wizard who arrived here in a balloon from Omaha many years ago, and little Dorothy, who came by way of a Kansas cyclone somewhat later. Not only will the rulers of all four Oz Kingdoms be present, but many other important and Royal personages as well.”
“Well? Well, indeed!” trumpeted the giant horse shrilly. “There you stand all shined up like a door knob and never a word to me. How’ll I look? Why wasn’t I told before? When do we start?”
“Just as soon as her Majesty decides what to wear and what to take with her,” answered the King with a solemn wink.
“Oh, then I’ll have bushels of time.” Highboy sighed heavily with relief. “So we’re invited to the Emerald City, eh? How perfectly perf, how simply magnif. Billy! Tommy! JIM!!” As he called the name of each little groom, Highboy let himself down a couple of stories and by the time he reached a usual horse height and level on the ground, he had ordered himself a bath, a mane wave, an oil shampoo, and a hooficure. Indeed, Highboy’s plans for the party went on apace and with the three grooms pattering after him with buckets, brushes, and sponges, he trotted anxiously up and down his great airy stable picking out his most splendid saddle and bridle and silver-braided blanket for the journey. The giant horse wished to make an impression that would uphold if not enhance the honor and reputation of the Gillikens. He was eager to renew his friendship with Trot, a little mortal girl who lived in the palace and with Herby, the Medicine Man, and the many other interesting characters he had met on a former visit to the capital.
In the Munchkin, Quadling, and Winkie Kingdoms there was also a lively bustle and stir of preparation, and in many of the lesser Kingdoms the Kings, Queens, and Potentates made ready for the great spring festival in the Emerald City. And you can imagine the fun and excitement in the capital itself. Everyone had some special part in the program, even the dogs and cats ran importantly about on countless errands like small messengers, their ears and tails quivering with interest and expectancy. After the visitors had been officially welcomed at the gates of the city, there was to be an imperial procession with bands, floats and favors for everybody. Then there were to be games, races, and other exciting athletic events and a grand banquet in the Royal Palace. A magic lantern ball in Ozma’s garden would complete the festivities for the first day. For the second, pageants and tableaux depicting the important and historical events of Ozian history had been arranged for the morning. Notta Bit More, a circus clown who had come to Oz from Philadelphia, was putting on an outdoor circus in the afternoon, helped by Bob Up, the orphan who had come with him, and all the famous animals in the Emerald City. From the squeals, shouts, and hilarious chuckles issuing from the huge white tent set just beyond the city wall, it promised to be an unqualified success.
After the circus, Ozma had planned a picnic supper on the banks of the Winkie River, to be followed by demonstrations in magic by the Wizard of Oz and Glinda, the Good Sorceress of the South, and last, but not least, a lavish display of fireworks sent especially for the grand occasion by Happy Toko, Emperor of the Silver Isles. No wonder the children in the Emerald City could think of nothing but the coming celebration. No wonder Dorothy, Trot, and Bettsy Bobbin, the little mortals who lived in the great palace and were Princesses in their own right, were too busy to think of their titles or bother with their crowns. Dorothy, the first of the three to reach the capital, was Ozma’s favorite companion, and Dorothy was perhaps the busiest of all. Not only had she planned all the tableaux and pageants, but had entire charge of decorating the palace and the Emerald City as well. The Scarecrow, whom Dorothy had discovered on her earliest trip to Oz, was her most willing and tireless assistant. This lively straw-stuffed gentleman had brains given him by the Wizard and was in high favor and constant demand because of his natural cheerfulness and amiable disposition.
At the moment, he and Dorothy were superintending the erection of a floral arch over the great jeweled gates of the City. This arch, grown and tended by the Wizard, was so magically compounded that as each visitor rode through the gateway a ribbon-tied bouquet of fragrant spring flowers dropped lightly into his or her lap. Dorothy and the Scarecrow had tried it out to their complete delight and satisfaction, and now clasping their large bouquets, watched three energetic little gardeners tie up the last tendrils of the magic vine to the gaily painted arbor.
“You know,” said Dorothy, peering over the flower tops at the Scarecrow, “I can hardly wait till tomorrow. To think we’ll be seeing Sir Hokus and Ojo and Unk Nunkie and Urtha and Prince Tatters and all the others—”
“And they’ll be seeing us, too, remember that,” beamed the Scarecrow, closing one cotton eye. “And now, if you think you can manage for a few minutes without me, I had better go and study up on my speech of welcome.”
“Oh—are YOU making the speech of welcome? How grand! How thrilling!” Dorothy gazed admiringly up at her oldest friend in Oz.
“Yes, and I’m also making the speech awarding medals to the Discoverers of our country,” confided the Scarecrow, thrusting out his chin and striking an attitude. “How will you feel when I pin that medal on your chest, my girl?”
“Well,” sighed Dorothy, looking dreamily over her bouquet, “I couldn’t feel any happier than I do now, but it certainly will be a great honor, Scarecrow.”
“A great honor! Well, I should snickerty wicker. But what if I forget my speech right in the middle of a word!” The Scarecrow pushed back his old blue hat and puckered up his forehead anxiously. “How will I feel with all those Kings and Queens staring right at me? Really, I think Ozma had better have someone else make the speeches.”
“Oh, go along with you,” laughed Dorothy, giving him a little push. “Haven’t you magic brains? You’ll be a splendid speechmaker.”
“Do you think so? Well, I’ll do my best.” Somewhat reassured, the Scarecrow patted Dorothy on the shoulder and started off through the park. Dorothy could tell from the way he flung his arms about that he was rehearsing, and with an amused little smile she hurried back to the palace to put the finishing touches to the decorations for Ozma’s throne room. Half way there, she met the Hungry Tiger carrying a large basket in his teeth and followed by ten little kitchen boys, also bearing enormous baskets.
“Good gracious, Tige, what’s this?” Dorothy stared at the little procession in surprise. The Hungry Tiger and Cowardly Lion have lived in the Emerald City almost as long as Dorothy and though the tiger’s appetite is tremendous and he is always threatening to eat a fat baby, he has never yet done it and is tame as Dorothy’s pet kitten Eureka.
“Oh, hadn’t you heard?” The Hungry Tiger set down his basket and smoothed back his whiskers complacently. “I’m the head of the reception committee for all visiting animals and am on my way now to buy refreshments for the great banquet and picnic. And trust me,” he gave Dorothy a broad wink, “to do it right. Just let me see that list, Kapo.” Taking a long slip from the first kitchen boy, he began to drone off the names of the capital’s famous four-footed citizens and then the list of visitors.
“Of course, there must be meat for the Cowardly Lion and myself,” mused the Tiger, blinking his eyes sleepily. “Then there’s Hank, Bettsy Bobbin’s Mule, and Doubty, that dromedary you and Sir Hokus brought back from one of those strange journeys; and we mustn’t forget Peter’s Iffin, though he doesn’t eat much. Put down a box of violets and geraniums for the Iffin, Kapo, my lad. Ozma’s Saw Horse and the Woozy being of wood don’t care for food, but that fine pink pig Pigasus eats enough for a dozen horses, and Toto, your little dog, and Billina must be taken care of too, and Scrap’s bear, Grumpy.”
“Of course,” agreed Dorothy, leaning her elbow on the Tiger’s back so she could read the list over his shoulder. “But they all live here. Who’s coming from foreign parts, Tiger?”
“Well,” confided the Tiger, “you’ll be glad to know our old friend the Comfortable Camel is making the trip with Hokus, I mean the Yellow Knight, and Marygolden, the Princess he married, is riding a warhorse named Stampedro. The King and Queen of the Gillikens will make the trip on the Giant Horse (quite a lot of horses, aren’t there), and I hope Highboy keeps his legs in bounds. It makes me nervous to see a creature one height one minute and another height the next. You knew the Prince of Pumperdink was bringing Kabumpo, the Elegant Elephant?”
“Don’t you mean that Kabumpo is bringing him?” put in Dorothy mischievously, “and won’t you be glad to see him again?”
“Yes, I’ll be glad enough to see him,” murmured the Tiger, “but feeding him is quite a big problem.”
“Well, you’re just the one to do it,” said Dorothy, smoothing away the wrinkle between the Tiger’s pointed ears. “You have such a big appetite yourself, you’d know just how hungry an elephant would feel. I see you’ve got Roger down, too.”
“I’m pretty sure King Ato will bring his Read Bird, so I’m ordering a dozen boxes of animal crackers for Roger and a barrel of apples for Snufferbux.”
“I wonder if he’ll dance for us.” Dorothy’s eyes brightened, for she had taken a great fancy to the faithful bear with whom Ojo had traveled all over Oz. “He’s bound to be jolly and full of fun.”
“And hungry as a bear,” sighed the Tiger with a worried frown. “But that is easy compared to a dragon. King Cheeriobed is bringing a dragon, and this dragon’s on a diet of mustard and sulphur—think of that, my child, and SAY—I’d best get along or I’ll never get my marketing done.”
“And I must go, too,” said Dorothy, reminded of her many responsibilities. So, giving the Tiger’s ear an affectionate pull, she ran all the way back to the palace. In the throne room she found Ozma and Tik Tok in a quiet conference.
“I’ve made Tik Tok Master of Ceremonies,” said Ozma, looking up with a smile of welcome, “because he never forgets what he’s wound up to remember.”
“And I’ll be sure to keep him wound up,” promised Dorothy, patting the machine man on his copper shoulder. Tik Tok was another of Dorothy’s discoveries and had been manufactured by a magician to be a slave of the King of Ev, but here he was, thanks to Dorothy, enjoying a life of interest and ease in the capital. Tik Tok could talk, think, and move about as well as anyone when he was wound, and was much more reliable and tireless than a real person.
“I am to an-nounce the vis-i-tors as they en-ter the pal-ace and per-son-a-al-ly con-duct them to their roy-al quar-ters,” Tik Tok told Dorothy in his slow and precise manner. “Oz-ma can de-pend on me ab-so-lute-ly and ev-e-ry thing will go like clock-work.” With two stiff bows and ticking with importance, the metal man marched proudly from the room.
“Like clock-work. Ha, ha! did you hear that, and why not with a clock-work man in charge? Oh, Ozma, doesn’t it all look grand and gorgeous?” Clasping the little Queen around her slender waist, Dorothy gazed around the beautiful throne room. Every window and doorway was garlanded with flowers, while hundreds of palms, ferns, and fluttering silk pennants gave it an unwonted look of pomp and ceremony. “Let—me—see,” mused Dorothy, straightening the folds of a white satin curtain. “I’m to stand on your right, Bettsy Bobbin and Trot on your left, and the Patchwork Girl is to hold your train at the grand reception. Do you think you can trust her, Ozma? She’ll probably try to jump rope or wave it like a handkerchief.”
“Oh, Scraps is pretty good, considering her giddy make up,” observed Ozma with a little smile, “and she would be so disappointed not to be with us. I’m sure I can trust her—at least for a little while.”
“Trust me? Trust me? You disgust me,” shouted a merry voice and Scraps, who had been peeking through the curtains at the back of the room, took a long running slide, landing in an unladylike heap at the foot of the dais leading to the throne. Scraps, made from an old crazy quilt and stuffed with cotton, had been brought to life by a magician to serve his wife, but the Patch Work Girl had come to the Emerald City with Ojo and never returned to her creators, scorning the humble career of a maid servant. She was so gay and amusing Ozma had allowed her to remain at the palace.
“Must I go in training to hold a train?” she demanded, springing to her feet and striking so comical an attitude both Dorothy and Ozma had to laugh.
“Of course not,” said Ozma kindly, “just be careful and do not do any gymnastics during the reception.”
“Oh, I’ll be careful and so dignified I’ll probably split a seam, but wait till you see the grand-aerial-balance-defying stunt I’m to put on for the big show,” puffed Scraps, snapping her button eyes boastfully. “I’m to walk the tight rope in Notta’s circus, so SO long, girls, I must go and practice.”
“Well, even if she falls it won’t matter,” remarked Dorothy with a slight shudder as the Patch Work Girl jumped recklessly out of the window, and picking herself up set off for the circus grounds on the edge of the park.
“Oh, Ozma, with all the interesting people here already and with all the grand and exciting ones who are coming, I believe we’ll have the best time we’ve ever had since Oz was discovered.”
“Are you glad you discovered us?” Giving her an affectionate squeeze, Ozma linked her arm through Dorothy’s. “Let’s see how the Wizard is getting on with his tricks for the picnic.”
Dorothy nodded eagerly, and hand in hand the two girls hurried across the corridor to the laboratory of the wonderful Wizard of Oz.