L. Frank Baum - Oz 37 Read online

  “Thank you, my dear,” said Ozana graciously as she rose to her feet. “And

  you, Sir,” she continued, turning to the Wizard and sweetly easing the

  little man’s embarrassment, “could scarcely be blamed for failing to

  recognize a princess garbed so simply and digging in a garden.”

  “I most humbly ask your pardon,” murmured the Wizard.

  “Come,” said Ozana, “let us go into my cottage, where we can talk at ease. I

  must know all about you.”

  As they started for the cottage, a small voice called after them, “Wait! Wait for me! Don’t leave me here! It’s time for my milk!” Dorothy glanced behind her and saw, scrambling from under a bush, a tiny

  kitten with pure white fur and china-blue eyes. “Oh, what a darling!” she cried.

  “This is Felina, my pet kitten,” announced Ozana as she knelt and gathered the small bundle of fur into her arms.

  Ozana led her guests to the living room of the cottage, an attractive room fragrant with pine scent and comfortably furnished with pine chairs, divans and tables. Pressing a button set in the pine-paneled wall, Ozana bid her guests make themselves comfortable while she ordered lunch. A moment later a little wooden maid in a blue dress and spotless white pinafore, followed closely by a small wooden boy in a page’s livery, appeared smiling in the doorway. The maid curtsied gracefully, and the boy bobbed his head as Ozana said, “This is Dolly and Poppet, my maid and page. Dolly, will you and Poppet please prepare sandwiches and refreshments for us? My guests have traveled far and must be quite hungry.”

  “We are happy to serve your Highness,” answered the wooden girl and boy in unison. With another curtsy and bow, the maid and page disappeared from the room.

  Ozana seated herself beside Dorothy and, taking the little girl’s hand in her own while she smiled warmly at the Wizard, the Fairy Princess said, “Now, let us become acquainted.”

  “Well,” began Dorothy, “this is the famous Wizard of Oz, and I amFF20C4” “Princess Dorothy of Oz,” Ozana finished for her. “You know us?” asked Dorothy eagerly.

  “To be sure I know you,” replied Ozana. “By my fairy arts I keep myself informed of all that goes on in the Emerald City. I recall when our Wizard

  first visited the Land of Oz in his balloon, and when the cyclone lifted your house into the air and carried you, Dorothy, all the way from Kansas to Oz.”

  “Why do you say ‘our’ Wizard?” asked the Wizard.

  “Because I consider myself very close to the Land of Oz. I have a great

  fondness for all its inhabitants, and especially for the Wizard, who built

  the Emerald City and united the four countries of Oz,” replied Ozana

  earnestly.

  The Wizard blushed modestly. “As for building the Emerald City,” he remarked, “I have said many times before that I only bossed the job. The Oz people themselves did all the work.”

  Dorothy nodded. “When I first heard your name, Ozana, I suspected it was connected in some way with Oz.”

  “I am called Ozana,” stated the violet-eyed maid simply, “because I am a member of Queen Lurline’s Fairy Band and first cousin of Princess Ozma of Oz.”

  “Wizard, did you hear that? Princess Ozana is Ozma’s cousin!” At this moment Dolly and Poppet reappeared bearing trays heaped with sandwiches and glasses of cool, fresh milk. Dorothy was so excited over the revelation Ozana had just made that she could scarcely eat. While they enjoyed their food, Ozana and her guests exchanged stories. First Dorothy and the Wizard related their adventures. “I have no doubt at all,” said Ozana, “that the two strange birds who took your forms were none other than King Umb and Queen Ra, the Mimic Monarchs.” “Did you say Mimics?” exclaimed Dorothy. “Yes, my dear. Mount Illuso is the home of the dread Mimics.”

  “Oh,” said Dorothy thoughtfully. “That explains a lot of things. Why, only the day before she left the Land of Oz, Ozma and I were discussing the Mimics.”

  The Wizard, who knew nothing of the Mimics, listened with interest as Ozana described the creatures. “I don’t understand,” said the Wizard when Ozana had finished, “why you should be living alone on the top of this mountain in which such evil creatures as the Mimics dwell.”

  “That question is easily answered,” replied Ozana. “Immediately after Queen Lurline enchanted the Mimics so that they could not attack the Oz inhabitants, she flew with me, her fairy companion, to the top of Mount Illuso. Here she left me, giving me certain fairy powers over the Mimics and instructing me that I was to remain here at all times as the Guardian of Oz to prevent the Mimics from doing any harm to the Oz people should the evil creatures ever succeed in lifting Queen Lurline’s spell. I was not even permitted to leave the mountain to attend Queen Lurline’s fairy councils in the Forest of Burzee.”

  “Then it must have been your fairy light that freed us from the Mimic enchantment in the cavern prison,” surmised Dorothy. “Yes, it was,” Ozana admitted. “You see, after Queen Lurline departed from Mount Illuso and I was left alone, the first thing I did was to place the button of light in that cavern which the Mimics call their Cavern of the Doomed. I enchanted the light so that it would appear soon after prisoners were placed in the cave. I gave the light power to overcome the spell cast by the Mimics on their victims.”

  “Then you are responsible for the elevator and Hi-Lo, too,” said the Wizard.

  “Yes,” replied Ozana. “I placed the elevator in the mountain and stationed Hi-Lo there to operate it. I did all this by my fairy arts. Of course, the Mimics have no knowledge of my arrangements to bring about the release of their victims. I knew the escaped prisoners would find their way to me, and I could aid them if I judged them worthy. But I never expected to find inhabitants of the Land of Oz in the Mimic Cavern of the Doomed!” “How is it,” asked the Wizard, “that the Mimics were able to capture Dorothy and me despite the fact that we are inhabitants of the Land of Oz?” “You must remember,” said Ozana, “that both you and Dorothy came to Oz from the great outside world, and neither of you was an inhabitant of Oz when Queen Lurline cast her spell over the Mimics. Hence you were not protected by that spell. It was for just such an unlooked-for development as this that the wise Queen Lurline left me on this mountaintop.” “May I ask, then,” said the Wizard, “why you knew nothing of the flight of the Mimic King and Queen to the Emerald City?” Ozana’s face flushed slightly at this question, and she replied hesitatingly, “I must admit that I am fully responsible for all your troubles. But I plead with you to consider my side of the story. I have dwelt on this forsaken mountaintop with no human companions for more than two hundred years. At first I amused myself by creating the little wooden people and building their pine village for them. But it was too much like playing with dolls, and I soon tired. Then I busied myself with my garden, growing in it every variety of flower that exists. This occupied me for many long years.

  “Please remember that I have taken many precautions against the Mimics. I believed I could rely on my fairy light to free any prisoners in the Cavern

  of the Doomed, but apparently the Mimics took no captives they thought important enough to occupy the Cavern of the Doomed until they made you prisoners. And then my fairy light served me well. Can you find it in your hearts to forgive me that I did not spend all my time keeping guard over the Mimics through all those long years?”

  “Of course. We understand, Ozana,” said Dorothy, pressing the fairy maid’s hand affectionately.

  “And I must confess,” continued Ozana with a grateful smile at Dorothy, “that had I not been so completely absorbed in my garden during the last few days, I would surely have known of Ozma and Glinda’s departure from the Emerald City and your own plight.”

  The Wizard had been very thoughtful while Ozana was speaking. Now he asked, “Just what do you believe to be the plans of the two Mimics who are now masquerading as Dorothy and me in the Emerald City?” Ozana was grave at this question. �
��It is evident,” she replied, “that King Umb and Queen Ra hope to take advantage of the absence of Ozma and Glinda to search for the counter-charm that would release the Mimics from Queen Lurline’s enchantment and permit them to overrun Oz. Queen Ra must have discovered by her black arts that Queen Lurline had given the secret of the magical antidote into Ozma’s keeping, knowing it would be safest with Ozma. It may be,” added Ozana thoughtfully, “that if King Umb and Queen Ra have not discovered the spell by the time Ozma and Glinda return, they would even be so bold as to remain in the Emerald City, hoping they could deceive Ozma and Glinda as they have the rest of the Oz folks.” “What do you think they will do if they find the magic spell?” asked Dorothy

  fearfully.

  The violet depths of Ozana’s eyes darkened as she considered. “I don’t like to think about that, my dear,” she answered slowly. After a moment’s silence, Princess Ozana brightened. “Come now, let’s not borrow trouble. The Mimic Monarchs have had so little time that I am sure they could not have succeeded in their search! We have nothing to fear now. However I will spend the entire afternoon and evening in study, and by use of my fairy arts I will be able to discover just what King Umb and Queen Ra’s plot is. With that knowledge we can act wisely and quickly to defeat the Mimic Monarchs.”

  “Do you think we should wait that long?” asked the Wizard. “It is necessary,” replied Ozana firmly. “I must have time to study Ra and Umb’s actions during the past few days and to prepare myself to fight them. Remember, they are powerful enemies. Unless I am mistaken, we shall be on our way to the Emerald City in the morning, and I shall be fully armed with whatever knowledge is necessary to defeat the Mimic Monarchs completely. Do not worry, my friends. I am confident I can bring about the downfall of King Umb and Queen Ra before Ozma and Glinda return to the Emerald City tomorrow.”

  “Of course you are right,” assented the Wizard slowly.

  “Now,” said Ozana, rising, “let me show you my garden, of which I am quite

  proud. I am sure you will find it so interesting that you will regret you

  have only one short afternoon to spend in it. I have passed countless days

  in it and found it ever more fascinating.”

  The White Kitten, Felina, had finished lapping up the milk from the bowl placed on the floor for her by the little wooden maid. Dorothy knelt,

  cuddling the tiny creature in her arms. “May I take Felina in the garden with us?” Dorothy asked.

  “To be sure,” replied Ozana. “I shall be far too occupied this afternoon to give her my attention.”

  As they stepped from Ozana’s cottage into the garden, the Fairy Princess said, “I believe you will find my garden different from any you have ever seen. I call it my Story Blossom Garden.”

  CHAPTER 12

  STORY BLOSSOM GARDEN

  “Now I will show you why I call my garden Story Blossom Garden,” began Ozana

  as she advanced toward a rose tree laden with lovely blooms. “You see,

  these are not ordinary flowers. They are fairy flowers that I created with

  my fairy arts. And the soil in which they grow is magic soil. Take this

  rose, for instance.” Here Ozana cupped a large, red rose in her hand. “Look

  into its petals, Dorothy, and tell me what you see.”

  “Why, the petals form a lovely girl’s face!” Dorothy exclaimed in delight.

  “And so it is with all the blossoms in my garden,” said Ozana. “If you look

  closely into them, you will see a human face. Now, Dorothy, put your ear

  close to the rose and listen.”

  Dorothy did as she was bid and quite clearly she heard a small but melodious voice say pleadingly, “Pick me, pick me, little girl, and I will tell you the sweetest story ever told C4 a love story.”

  Dorothy looked at the rose in awe. “What does it mean?” she asked Ozana. “Simply that all the flowers in my garden are Story Blossom Flowers. Pick a blossom and hold it to your ear, and it will tell you its story. When the story is done, the blossom will fade and wither.” “Oh, but I shouldn’t like any of the beautiful flowers to die,” protested Dorothy, “even to hear their lovely stories.”

  “They do not die,” replied Ozana. “As I said, these are no ordinary flowers. They do not grow from seeds or bulbs. Instead, as soon as a blossom has told its story, it fades and withers. Then one of my gardeners plants it, and in a few days it blooms afresh with a new story to tell. The flowers are all eager to be picked so that they may tell their stories. Just as ordinary flowers give off their perfumes freely and graciously, so my flowers love to breathe forth the fragrance of their stories. A poet once said that perfumes are the souls of flowers. I have succeeded in distilling those perfumes into words.”

  “Can’t the flowers tell their stories while they are still growing?” asked Dorothy.

  “No,” replied Ozana. “Only when they are separated from their plants can they tell their stories.”

  “Do all the roses tell the same love story?” Dorothy asked. “No indeed,” said Ozana. “While it is true that all the roses tell love stories C4 for the rose is the flower of love C4 all roses do not tell the $$same&& love story. Since no two rose blossoms are identical, no two blossoms tell the same story. It was my purpose in creating the garden to supply myself with a never-ending source of amusement as an escape from the boredom of living alone on this desolate mountaintop. I was reminded of the Princess in the Arabian Nights tales. You will recall that she told her stories for a thousand-and-one nights. My story blossoms,” Ozana concluded

  with a smile, “can tell many, many more than a thousand and one stories. There are many thousands of blossoms in my garden, and each blossom has a different story.”

  “You are certainly to be congratulated on your marvelous garden,” said the Wizard. “It is a miraculous feat of magic,” he added admiringly.

  “Thank you,” replied Ozana graciously. “And now I will leave you, as I must form our plans for tomorrow. I must ask you to excuse me from the evening meal. Dolly and Poppet will serve you, and when you are ready they will show you to your sleeping rooms. Goodbye for the present, my friends.”

  Dorothy and the Wizard bid their lovely hostess goodbye and then turned to the wonderful garden of Story Blossoms. Putting Felina on the ground to romp beside her, Dorothy dropped to her knees before a cluster of pansies. As she bent her ear over one of the little flower faces, it murmured, “Pick me, little girl, pick me! I’ll tell you an old-fashioned story of once-upon-a-time about a wicked witch and a beautiful princess.”

  The Wizard found himself admiring the flaming beauty of a stately tiger lily. Placing his ear close to the blossom, he listened and heard the flower say in a throaty voice, “Pick me, O Man, and hear a thrilling story of splendid silken beasts in their sultry jungle lairs.”

  Now Dorothy was listening to a purple thistle that spoke with a rich Scotch burr, “Pick me, little girl, an’ ye’ll make naw mistake, for I’ll tell ye a tale of a Highland lassie for Auld Lang Syne.”

  Noticing a tawny blossom with gay purple spots, Dorothy placed her ear close to it. This was a harlequin flower, and it said, “Pick me, child, and I’ll tell you a wonder tale about Merryland and its Valley of Clowns, where

  dwell the happy, fun-loving clowns who delight in making children laugh.” Dorothy remembered reading in a story book about Merryland and the Valley of Clowns.

  Next was a Black-Eyed Susan that murmured to Dorothy, “Pick me, and I will tell you the story of three things that men love best C4 black eyes and brown and blue. Men love them all, but oh, black eyes C4 men love and die for you!”

  Dorothy smiled and moved on to a daisy, which whispered to her in halting, doubtful tones, “Does he really love her? I shouldn’t tell, but I know, I know C4 and I will tell, if only you’ll pick me, little girl.” “And I thought daisies didn’t tell,” Dorothy said to herself. She stopped before a rambling rose that spoke in a rapid, e
xcited voice and wanted to relate a story of vagabond adventure in faraway places. Then a bright red tulip whispered about a tale of windmills and Holland canals and pretty Dutch girls. At last the little girl came to a sunflower so tall that she had to stand on tiptoe to hear its words. “Pick me,” the sunflower urged, “and hear my story of sun-baked prairies and western farm homes and great winds that sweep across the plains.”

  “I wonder,” thought Dorothy, “if the sunflower would tell me a story about my old home in Kansas. There used to be a great many sunflowers on Uncle Henry’s farm back there.”

  A tiny violet growing in a mossy bed caught the girl’s eye, and as she knelt to hear its words, a shrill, unpleasant voice exclaimed, “Pick me! Pick me! Pick me immediately! I’ll tell you a story that will burn your ears off! All about Dick Superguy C4 greatest detective in the world! He can’t be killed C4 he’s all-powerful!” Dorothy was sure the shy little violet

  hadn’t uttered these words. While she looked about to see where the rude voice was coming from, one of the little wooden gardeners stepped up and said apologetically, “Beg your pardon, Miss, it’s just a weed. They’re always loud and noisy, and while we don’t care much for their stories, we feel they have as much right to grow as any other plants. Even a magic fairy garden has its weeds.”

  The Wizard had strolled over to the pond of placid blue water, and placing his ear close to a green pad on which nestled an exquisite water lily, he heard these words, “Pick me, O Man, and I’ll tell you a tale of a magic white ship that sails the jeweled seas and of the strange creatures that dwell in the blue depths.”

  Turning to a lotus blossom, the Wizard heard a sleepy voice murmur, “Pick me, pick me. I’ll carry you afar to the secret islands of the never-ending nights, where the winds are music in the palm trees and the hours are woven of delights.”

  Now that they had listened to the pleading voices of so many of the blossoms, Dorothy and the Wizard decided to pick some of them and hear their stories. Dorothy’s first selection was a Jack-in-the-Pulpit, which proved to be an unfortunate choice, as the story the blossom told was preachy and sermon-like. She decided the blossom was a trifle green. Next she tried a daffodil. The story this blossom whispered to her in silver tones was about a lovely Spring Maiden who went dancing around the earth, and at her approach all ugliness and coldness and bitterness vanished. In the Spring Maiden’s wake appeared a trail of anemones and violets and daffodils and tulips, and gentle winds that caused new hopes to arise in