A line of rabbit soldiers was
drawn up before the palace entrance,
and they wore green and gold
uniforms with high shakos upon
their heads and held tiny spears
in their hands. The Captain had
a sword and a white plume in
his shako.
"Salute!" called the Keeper
of the Wicket. "Salute Princess
Dorothy, who comes from Ozma
of Oz!"
"Salute!" yelled
the Captain, and all the soldiers
promptly
saluted.
They now entered the great
hall of the palace, where they
met a gaily dressed attendant,
from whom the Keeper of the Wicket
inquired if the King were at
leisure.
"I think so," was the reply. "I
heard his Majesty blubbering
and wailing as usual only a few
minutes ago. If he doesn't stop
acting like a cry-baby I'm going
to resign my position here and
go to work."
"What's the matter with your
King?" asked Dorothy, surprised
to hear the rabbit attendant
speak so disrespectfully of his
monarch.
"Oh, he doesn't want to be
King, that's all; and he simply
HAS to," was the reply.
"Come!" said the Keeper of
the Wicket, sternly; "lead us
to his Majesty; and do not air
our troubles before strangers,
I beg of you."
"Why, if this girl is going
to see the King, he'll air his
own troubles," returned the attendant.
"That is his royal privilege," declared
the Keeper.
So the attendant led them into
a room all draped with cloth-of-gold
and furnished with satin-covered
gold furniture. There was a throne
in this room, set on a dais and
having a big, cushioned seat,
and on this seat reclined the
Rabbit King. He was lying on
his back, with his paws in the
air, and whining very like a
puppy-dog.
"Your Majesty! your Majesty!
Get up. Here's a visitor," called
out the attendant.
The King rolled over and looked
at Dorothy with one watery pink
eye. Then he sat up and wiped
his eyes carefully with a silk
handkerchief and put on his jeweled
crown, which had fallen off.
"Excuse my grief, fair stranger," he
said, in a sad voice. "You behold
in me the most miserable monarch
in all the world. What time is
it, Blinkem?"
"One o'clock, your Majesty," replied
the attendant to whom the question
was addressed.
"Serve luncheon at once!" commanded
the King. "Luncheon for two--that's
for my visitor and me--and see
that the human has some sort
of food she's accustomed to."
"Yes, your Majesty," answered
the attendant, and went away.
"Tie my shoe, Bristle," said
the King to the Keeper of the
Wicket. "Ah me! how unhappy I
am!"
"What seems to be worrying
your Majesty?" asked Dorothy.
"Why, it's this king business,
of course," he returned, while
the Keeper tied his shoe. "I
didn't want to be King of Bunnybury
at all, and the rabbits all knew
it. So they elected me--to save
themselves from such a dreadful
fate, I suppose--and here I am,
shut up in a palace, when I might
be free and happy."
"Seems to me," said Dorothy, "it's
a great thing to be a King."
"Were you ever a King?" inquired
the monarch.
"No," she answered,
laughing.
"Then you know nothing about
it," he said. "I haven't inquired
who you are, but it doesn't matter.
While we're at luncheon, I'll
tell you all my troubles. They're
a great deal more interesting
than anything you can say about
yourself."
"Perhaps they are, to you," replied
Dorothy.
"Luncheon is served!" cried
Blinkem, throwing open the door,
and in came a dozen rabbits in
livery, all bearing trays which
they placed upon the table, where
they arranged the dishes in an
orderly manner.
"Now clear out--all of you!" exclaimed
the King. "Bristle, you may wait
outside, in case I want you."
When they had gone and the
King was alone with Dorothy he
came down from his throne, tossed
his crown into a corner and kicked
his ermine robe under the table.
"Sit down," he said, "and
try to be happy. It's useless
for
me to try, because I'm always
wretched and miserable. But I'm
hungry, and I hope you are."
"I am," said Dorothy. "I've
only eaten a wheelbarrow and
a piano to-day--oh, yes! and
a slice of bread and butter that
used to be a door-mat."
"That sounds like a square
meal," remarked the King, seating
himself opposite her; "but perhaps
it wasn't a square piano. Eh?"
Dorothy laughed.
"You don't seem so very unhappy
now," she said.
"But I am," protested the King,
fresh tears gathering in his
eyes. "Even my jokes are miserable.
I'm wretched, woeful, afflicted,
distressed and dismal as an individual
can be. Are you not sorry for
me?"
"No," answered Dorothy, honestly, "I
can't say I am. Seems to me that
for a rabbit you're right in
clover. This is the prettiest
little city I ever saw."
"Oh, the city is good enough," he
admitted. "Glinda, the Good Sorceress,
made it for us because she was
fond of rabbits. I don't mind
the City so much, although I
wouldn't live here if I had my
choice. It is being King that
has absolutely ruined my happiness."
"Why wouldn't you live here
by choice?" she asked.
"Because it
is all unnatural, my dear.
Rabbits are out of place
in such luxury. When I was young
I lived in a burrow in the forest.
I was surrounded by enemies and
often had to run for my life.
It was hard getting enough to
eat, at times, and when I found
a bunch of clover I had to listen
and look for danger while I ate
it. Wolves prowled around the
hole in which I lived and sometimes
I didn't dare stir out for days
at a time. Oh, how happy and
contented I was then! I was a
real rabbit, as nature made me--wild
and free!--and I even enjoyed
listening to the startled throbbing
of my own heart!"
"I've often thought," said
Dorothy, who was busily eating, "that
it would be fun to be a rabbit."
"It IS fun--when you're the
genuine article," agreed his
Majesty. "But look at me now!
I live in a marble palace instead
of a hole in the ground. I have
all I want to eat, without the
joy of hunting for it. Every
day I must dress in fine clothes
and wear that horrible crown
till it makes my head ache. Rabbits
come to me with all sorts of
troubles, when my own troubles
are the only ones I care about.
When I walk out I can't hop and
run; I must strut on my rear
legs and wear an ermine robe!
And the soldiers salute me and
the band plays and the other
rabbits laugh and clap their
paws and cry out: 'Hail to the
King!' Now let me ask you, as
a friend and a young lady of
good judgment: isn't all this
pomp and foolishness enough to
make a decent rabbit miserable?"
"Once," said Dorothy, reflectively, "men
were wild and unclothed and lived
in caves and hunted for food
as wild beasts do. But they got
civ'lized, in time, and now they'd
hate to go back to the old days."
"That is an entirely different
case," replied the King. "None
of you Humans were civilized
in one lifetime. It came to you
by degrees. But I have known
the forest and the free life,
and that is why I resent being
civilized all at once, against
my will, and being made a King
with a crown and an ermine robe.
Pah!"
"If you don't like it, why
don't you resign?" she asked.
"Impossible!" wailed the Rabbit,
wiping his eyes again with his
handkerchief. "There's a beastly
law in this town that forbids
it. When one is elected a King,
there's no getting out of it."
"Who made the laws?" inquired
Dorothy.
"The same Sorceress
who made the town--Glinda the
Good. She
built the wall, and fixed up
the City, and gave us several
valuable enchantments, and made
the laws. Then she invited all
the pink-eyed white rabbits of
the forest to come here, after
which she left us to our fate."
"What made you 'cept the invitation,
and come here?" asked the child.
"I didn't know how dreadful
city life was, and I'd no idea
I would be elected King," said
he, sobbing bitterly. "And--and--now
I'm It--with a capital I--and
can't escape!"
"I know Glinda," remarked Dorothy,
eating for dessert a dish of
charlotte russe, "and when I
see her again, I'll ask her to
put another King in your place."
"Will you? Will you, indeed?" asked
the King, joyfully.
"I will if you want me to," she
replied.
"Hurroo--huray!" shouted
the King; and then he jumped
up from
the table and danced wildly about
the room, waving his napkin like
a flag and laughing with glee.
After a time he managed to
control his delight and returned
to the table.
"When are you likely to see
Glinda?" he inquired.
"Oh, p'raps in a few days," said
Dorothy.
"And you won't
forget to ask her?"
"Of course
not."
"Princess," said the Rabbit
King, earnestly, "you have relieved
me of a great unhappiness, and
I am very grateful. Therefore
I propose to entertain you, since
you are my guest and I am the
King, as a slight mark of my
appreciation. Come with me to
my reception hall."
He then summoned
Bristle and said to him: "Assemble
all the nobility in the great
reception
hall, and also tell Blinkem that
I want him immediately."
The Keeper
of the Wicket bowed and hurried
away, and his Majesty
turned to Dorothy and continued: "We'll
have time for a walk in the gardens
before the people get here."
The gardens were back of the
palace and were filled with beautiful
flowers and fragrant shrubs,
with many shade and fruit trees
and marble-paved walks running
in every direction. As they entered
this place Blinkem came running
to the King, who gave him several
orders in a low voice. Then his
Majesty rejoined Dorothy and
led her through the gardens,
which she admired very much.
"What lovely clothes your Majesty
wears!" she said, glancing at
the rich blue satin costume,
embroidered, with pearls in which
the King was dressed.
"Yes," he returned, with an
air of pride, "this is one of
my favorite suits; but I have
a good many that are even more
elaborate. We have excellent
tailors in Bunnybury, and Glinda
supplies all the material. By
the way, you might ask the Sorceress,
when you see her, to permit me
to keep my wardrobe."
"But if you go back to the
forest you will not need clothes," she
said.
"N--o!" he faltered; "that
may be so. But I've dressed up
so long that I'm used to it,
and I don't imagine I'd care
to run around naked again. So
perhaps the Good Glinda will
let me keep the costumes."
"I'll ask her," agreed
Dorothy.
Then they left the gardens
and went into a fine, big reception
hall, where rich rugs were spread
upon the tiled floors and the
furniture was exquisitely carved
and studded with jewels. The
King's chair was an especially
pretty piece of furniture, being
in the shape of a silver lily
with one leaf bent over to form
the seat. The silver was everywhere
thickly encrusted with diamonds
and the seat was upholstered
in white satin.
"Oh, what a splendid chair!" cried
Dorothy, clasping her hands admiringly.
"Isn't it?" answered the King,
proudly. "It is my favorite seat,
and I think it especially becoming
to my complexion. While I think
of it, I wish you'd ask Glinda
to let me keep this lily chair
when I go away."
"It wouldn't look very well
in a hole in the ground, would
it?" she suggested.
"Maybe not; but I'm used to
sitting in it and I'd like to
take it with me," he answered. "But
here come the ladies and gentlemen
of the court; so please sit beside
me and be presented."
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