21. How the King Changed His Mind

The Emerald City of Oz

by L. Frank Baum

Just then a rabbit band of nearly fifty pieces marched in,
playing upon golden instruments and dressed in neat uniforms.
Following the band came the nobility of Bunnybury, all richly dressed
and hopping along on their rear legs. Both the ladies and the
gentlemen wore white gloves upon their paws, with their rings on the
outside of the gloves, as this seemed to be the fashion here. Some
of the lady rabbits carried lorgnettes, while many of the gentlemen
rabbits wore monocles in their left eyes.

The courtiers and their ladies paraded past the King, who
introduced Princess Dorothy to each couple in a very graceful manner.
Then the company seated themselves in chairs and on sofas and looked
expectantly at their monarch.

"It is our royal duty, as well as our royal pleasure," he said,
"to provide fitting entertainment for our distinguished guest. We
will now present the Royal Band of Whiskered Friskers."

As he spoke the musicians, who had arranged themselves in a
corner, struck up a dance melody while into the room pranced the
Whiskered Friskers. They were eight pretty rabbits dressed only in
gauzy purple skirts fastened around their waists with diamond bands.
Their whiskers were colored a rich purple, but otherwise they were
pure white.

After bowing before the King and Dorothy the Friskers began
their pranks, and these were so comical that Dorothy laughed with
real enjoyment. They not only danced together, whirling and gyrating
around the room, but they leaped over one another, stood upon their
heads and hopped and skipped here and there so nimbly that it was
hard work to keep track of them. Finally, they all made double
somersaults and turned handsprings out of the room.

The nobility enthusiastically applauded, and Dorothy applauded
with them.

"They're fine!" she said to the King.

"Yes, the Whiskered Friskers are really very clever," he
replied. "I shall hate to part with them when I go away, for they
have often amused me when I was very miserable. I wonder if you
would ask Glinda--"

"No, it wouldn't do at all," declared Dorothy, positively.
"There wouldn't be room in your hole in the ground for so many
rabbits, 'spec'ly when you get the lily chair and your clothes there.
Don't think of such a thing, your Majesty."

The King sighed. Then he stood up and announced to the
company:

"We will now hold a military drill by my picked Bodyguard of
Royal Pikemen."

Now the band played a march and a company of rabbit soldiers
came in. They wore green and gold uniforms and marched very stiffly
but in perfect time. Their spears, or pikes, had slender shafts of
polished silver with golden heads, and during the drill they handled
these weapons with wonderful dexterity.

"I should think you'd feel pretty safe with such a fine
Bodyguard," remarked Dorothy.

"I do," said the King. "They protect me from every harm. I
suppose Glinda wouldn't--"

"No," interrupted the girl; "I'm sure she wouldn't. It's the
King's own Bodyguard, and when you are no longer King you can't have
'em."

The King did not reply, but he looked rather sorrowful for a
time.

When the soldiers had marched out he said to the company:

"The Royal Jugglers will now appear."

Dorothy had seen many jugglers in her lifetime, but never any so
interesting as these. There were six of them, dressed in black satin
embroidered with queer symbols in silver--a costume which contrasted
strongly with their snow-white fur.

First, they pushed in a big red ball and three of the rabbit
jugglers stood upon its top and made it roll. Then two of them
caught up a third and tossed him into the air, all vanishing, until
only the two were left. Then one of these tossed the other upward
and remained alone of all his fellows. This last juggler now touched
the red ball, which fell apart, being hollow, and the five rabbits
who had disappeared in the air scrambled out of the hollow ball.

Next they all clung together and rolled swiftly upon the floor.
When they came to a stop only one fat rabbit juggler was seen, the
others seeming to be inside him. This one leaped lightly into the
air and when he came down he exploded and separated into the original
six. Then four of them rolled themselves into round balls and the
other two tossed them around and played ball with them.

These were but a few of the tricks the rabbit jugglers
performed, and they were so skillful that all the nobility and even
the King applauded as loudly as did Dorothy.

"I suppose there are no rabbit jugglers in all the world to
compare with these," remarked the King. "And since I may not have
the Whiskers Friskers or my Bodyguard, you might ask Glinda to let me
take away just two or three of these jugglers. Will you?"

"I'll ask her," replied Dorothy, doubtfully.

"Thank you," said the King; "thank you very much. And now you
shall listen to the Winsome Waggish Warblers, who have often cheered
me in my moments of anguish."

The Winsome Waggish Warblers proved to be a quartette of rabbit
singers, two gentlemen and two lady rabbits. The gentlemen Warblers
wore full-dress swallow-tailed suits of white satin, with pearls for
buttons, while the lady Warblers were gowned in white satin dresses
with long trails.

The first song they sang began in this way:

"When a rabbit gets a habit Of living in a city And wearing
clothes and furbelows And jewels rare and pretty, He scorns the
Bun who has to run And burrow in the ground And pities those
whose watchful foes Are man and gun and hound." Dorothy looked
at the King when she heard this song and noticed that he seemed
disturbed and ill at ease.

"I don't like that song," he said to the Warblers. "Give us
something jolly and rollicking."

So they sang to a joyous, tinkling melody as follows:

"Bunnies gay Delight to play In their fairy town secure;
Ev'ry frisker Flirts his whisker At a pink-eyed girl demure.
Ev'ry maid In silk arrayed At her partner shyly glances,
Paws are grasped, Waists are clasped As they whirl in giddy
dances. Then together Through the heather 'Neath the
moonlight soft they stroll; Each is very Blithe and merry,
Gamboling with laughter droll. Life is fun To ev'ry one
Guarded by our magic charm For to dangers We are strangers,
Safe from any thought of harm." "You see," said Dorothy to the King,
when the song ended, "the rabbits all seem to like Bunnybury except
you. And I guess you're the only one that ever has cried or was
unhappy and wanted to get back to your muddy hole in the ground."

His Majesty seemed thoughtful, and while the servants passed
around glasses of nectar and plates of frosted cakes their King was
silent and a bit nervous.

When the refreshments had been enjoyed by all and the servants
had retired Dorothy said:

"I must go now, for it's getting late and I'm lost. I've got to
find the Wizard and Aunt Em and Uncle Henry and all the rest sometime
before night comes, if I poss'bly can."

"Won't you stay with us?" asked the King. "You will be very
welcome."

"No, thank you," she replied. "I must get back to my friends.
And I want to see Glinda just as soon as I can, you know."

So the King dismissed his court and said he would himself walk
with Dorothy to the gate. He did not weep nor groan any more, but
his long face was quite solemn and his big ears hung dejectedly on
each side of it. He still wore his crown and his ermine and walked
with a handsome gold-headed cane.

When they arrived at the room in the wall the little girl found
Toto and Billina waiting for her very patiently. They had been
liberally fed by some of the attendants and were in no hurry to leave
such comfortable quarters.

The Keeper of the Wicket was by this time back in his old place,
but he kept a safe distance from Toto. Dorothy bade good bye to the
King as they stood just inside the wall.

"You've been good to me," she said, "and I thank you ever so
much. As soon as poss'ble I'll see Glinda and ask her to put another
King in your place and send you back into the wild forest. And I'll
ask her to let you keep some of your clothes and the lily chair and
one or two jugglers to amuse you. I'm sure she will do it, 'cause
she's so kind she doesn't like any one to be unhappy."

"Ahem!" said the King, looking rather downcast. "I don't like
to trouble you with my misery; so you needn't see Glinda."

"Oh, yes I will," she replied. "It won't be any trouble at
all."

"But, my dear," continued the King, in an embarrassed way, "I've
been thinking the subject over carefully, and I find there are a lot
of pleasant things here in Bunnybury that I would miss if I went
away. So perhaps I'd better stay."

Dorothy laughed. Then she looked grave.

"It won't do for you to be a King and a cry-baby at the same
time," she said. "You've been making all the other rabbits unhappy
and discontented with your howls about being so miserable. So I
guess it's better to have another King."

"Oh, no indeed!" exclaimed the King, earnestly. "If you won't
say anything to Glinda I'll promise to be merry and gay all the time,
and never cry or wail again."

"Honor bright?" she asked.

"On the royal word of a King I promise it!" he answered.

"All right," said Dorothy. "You'd be a reg'lar lunatic to want
to leave Bunnybury for a wild life in the forest, and I'm sure any
rabbit outside the city would be glad to take your place."

"Forget it, my dear; forget all my foolishness," pleaded the
King, earnestly. "Hereafter I'll try to enjoy myself and do my duty
by my subjects."

So then she left him and entered through the little door into
the room in the wall, where she grew gradually bigger and bigger
until she had resumed her natural size.

The Keeper of the Wicket let them out into the forest and told
Dorothy that she had been of great service to Bunnybury because she
had brought their dismal King to a realization of the pleasure of
ruling so beautiful a city.

"I shall start a petition to have your statue erected beside
Glinda's in the public square," said the Keeper. "I hope you will
come again, some day, and see it."

"Perhaps I shall," she replied.

Then, followed by Toto and Billina, she walked away from the
high marble wall and started back along the narrow path toward the
sign-post.