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.
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