WIZARD OF OZ - Complete Series. L. Frank Baum

      “Suppose I tell you all that you wish to know,”. said Mombi, speaking so suddenly that she startled them all. “What will you do with me then?”

      “In that case,” replied Glinda, “I shall merely ask you to drink a powerful draught which will cause you to forget all the magic you have ever learned.”

      “Then I would become a helpless old woman!”

      “But you would be alive,” suggested the Pumpkinhead, consolingly.

      “Do try to keep silent!” said Tip, nervously.

      “I’ll try,” responded Jack; “but you will admit that it’s a good thing to be alive.”

      “Especially if one happens to be Thoroughly Educated,” added the WoggleBug, nodding approval.

      “You may make your choice,” Glinda said to old Mombi, “between death if you remain silent, and the loss of your magical powers if you tell me the truth. But I think you will prefer to live.”

      Mombi cast an uneasy glance at the Sorceress, and saw that she was in earnest, and not to be trifled with. So she replied, slowly:

      “I will answer your questions.”

      “That is what I expected,” said Glinda, pleasantly. “You have chosen wisely, I assure you.”

      She then motioned to one of her Captains, who brought her a beautiful golden casket. From this the Sorceress drew an immense white pearl, attached to a slender chain which she placed around her neck in such a way that the pearl rested upon her bosom, directly over her heart.

      “Now,” said she, “I will ask my first question: Why did the Wizard pay you three visits?”

      “Because I would not come to him,” answered Mombi.

      “That is no answer,” said Glinda, sternly. “Tell me the truth.”

      “Well,” returned Mombi, with downcast eyes, “he visited me to learn the way I make tea-biscuits.”

      “Look up!” commanded the Sorceress.

      Mombi obeyed.

      “What is the color of my pearl?” demanded Glinda.

      “Why—it is black!” replied the old Witch, in a tone of wonder.

      “Then you have told me a falsehood!” cried Glinda, angrily. “Only when the truth is spoken will my magic pearl remain a pure white in color.”

      Mombi now saw how useless it was to try to deceive the Sorceress; so she said, meanwhile scowling at her defeat:

      “The Wizard brought to me the girl Ozma, who was then no more than a baby, and begged me to conceal the child.”

      “That is what I thought,” declared Glinda, calmly. “What did he give you for thus serving him?”

      “He taught me all the magical tricks he knew. Some were good tricks, and some were only frauds; but I have remained faithful to my promise.”

      “What did you do with the girl?” asked Glinda; and at this question everyone bent forward and listened eagerly for the reply.

      “I enchanted her,” answered Mombi.

      “In what way?”

      “I transformed her into—into—”

      “Into what?” demanded Glinda, as the Witch hesitated.

      “Into a boy!” said Mombi, in a low tone.

      “A boy!” echoed every voice; and then, because they knew that this old woman had reared Tip from childhood, all eyes were turned to where the boy stood.

      “Yes,” said the old Witch, nodding her head; “that is the Princess Ozma—the child brought to me by the Wizard who stole her father’s throne. That is the rightful ruler of the Emerald City!” and she pointed her long bony finger straight at the boy.

      “I!” cried Tip, in amazement. “Why, I’m no Princess Ozma—I’m not a girl!”

      Glinda smiled, and going to Tip she took his small brown hand within her dainty white one.

      “You are not a girl just now” said she, gently, “because Mombi transformed you into a boy. But you were born a girl, and also a Princess; so you must resume your proper form, that you may become Queen of the Emerald City.”

      “Oh, let Jinjur be the Queen!” exclaimed Tip, ready to cry. “I want to stay a boy, and travel with the Scarecrow and the Tin Woodman, and the WoggleBug, and Jack—yes! and my friend the SawHorse—and the Gump! I don’t want to be a girl!”

      “Never mind, old chap,” said the Tin Woodman, soothingly; “it don’t hurt to be a girl, I’m told; and we will all remain your faithful friends just the same. And, to be honest with you, I’ve always considered girls nicer than boys.”

      “They’re just as nice, anyway,” added the Scarecrow, patting Tip affectionately upon the head.

      “And they are equally good students,” proclaimed the WoggleBug. “I should like to become your tutor, when you are transformed into a girl again.”

      “But—see here!” said Jack Pumpkinhead, with a gasp: “if you become a girl, you can’t be my dear father any more!”

      “No,” answered Tip, laughing in spite of his anxiety. “and I shall not be sorry to escape the relationship.” Then he added, hesitatingly, as he turned to Glinda: “I might try it for awhile,-just to see how it seems, you know. But if I don’t like being a girl you must promise to change me into a boy again.”

      “Really,” said the Sorceress, “that is beyond my magic. I never deal in transformations, for they are not honest, and no respectable sorceress likes to make things appear to be what they are not. Only unscrupulous witches use the art, and therefore I must ask Mombi to effect your release from her charm, and restore you to your proper form. It will be the last opportunity she will have to practice magic.”

      Now that the truth about Princes Ozma had been discovered, Mombi did not care what became of Tip; but she feared Glinda’s anger, and the boy generously promised to provide for Mombi in her old age if he became the ruler of the Emerald City. So the Witch consented to effect the transformation, and preparations for the event were at once made.

      Glinda ordered her own royal couch to be placed in the center of the tent. It was piled high with cushions covered with rose-colored silk, and from a golden railing above hung many folds of pink gossamer, completely concealing the interior of the couch.

      The first act of the Witch was to make the boy drink a potion which quickly sent him into a deep and dreamless sleep. Then the Tin Woodman and the WoggleBug bore him gently to the couch, placed him upon the soft cushions, and drew the gossamer hangings to shut him from all earthly view.

      The Witch squatted upon the ground and kindled a tiny fire of dried herbs, which she drew from her bosom. When the blaze shot up and burned clearly old Mombi scattered a handful of magical powder over the fire, which straightway gave off a rich violet vapor, filling all the tent with its fragrance and forcing the SawHorse to sneeze—although he had been warned to keep quiet.

      Then, while the others watched her curiously, the hag chanted a rhythmical verse in words which no one understood, and bent her lean body seven times back and forth over the fire. And now the incantation seemed complete, for the Witch stood upright and cried the one word “Yeowa!” in a loud voice.

      The vapor floated away; the atmosphere became, clear again; a whiff of fresh air filled the tent, and the pink curtains of the couch trembled slightly, as if stirred from within.

      Glinda walked to the canopy and parted the silken hangings. Then she bent over the cushions, reached out her hand, and from the couch arose the form of a young girl, fresh