Dorothy left Bunbury the same
way she had entered it and when
they were in the forest again
she said to Billina:
"I never thought
that things good to eat could
be so dis'gree'ble."
"Often I've eaten things that
tasted good but were disagreeable
afterward," returned the Yellow
Hen. "I think, Dorothy, if eatables
are going to act badly, it's
better before than after you
eat them."
"P'raps you're right," said
the little girl, with a sigh. "But
what shall we do now?"
"Let us follow the path back
to the signpost," suggested Billina. "That
will be better than getting lost
again."
"Why, we're lost anyhow," declared
Dorothy; "but I guess you're
right about going back to that
signpost, Billina."
They returned
along the path to the place
where they had first
found it, and at once took "the
other road" to Bunnybury. This
road was a mere narrow strip,
worn hard and smooth but not
wide enough for Dorothy's feet
to tread. Still, it was a guide,
and the walking through the forest
was not at all difficult.
Before long they reached a
high wall of solid white marble,
and the path came to an end at
this wall.
At first Dorothy thought there
was no opening at all in the
marble, but on looking closely
she discovered a small square
door about on a level with her
head, and underneath this closed
door was a bell-push. Near the
bell-push a sign was painted
in neat letters upon the marble,
and the sign read:
NO ADMITTANCE
EXCEPT ON BUSINESS
This did not discourage Dorothy,
however, and she rang the bell.
Pretty soon a bolt was cautiously
withdrawn and the marble door
swung slowly open. Then she saw
it was not really a door, but
a window, for several brass bars
were placed across it, being
set fast in the marble and so
close together that the little
girl's fingers might barely go
between them. Back of the bars
appeared the face of a white
rabbit--a very sober and sedate
face--with an eye-glass held
in his left eye and attached
to a cord in his button-hole.
"Well! what is it?" asked
the rabbit, sharply.
"I'm Dorothy," said the girl, "and
I'm lost, and--"
"State your business, please," interrupted
the rabbit.
"My business," she replied, "is
to find out where I am, and to--"
"No one is allowed in Bunnybury
without an order or a letter
of introduction from either Ozma
of Oz or Glinda the Good," announced
the rabbit; "so that settles
the matter," and he started to
close the window.
"Wait a minute!" cried Dorothy. "I've
got a letter from Ozma."
"From the Ruler of Oz?" asked
the rabbit, doubtingly.
"Of course. Ozma's my best
friend, you know; and I'm a Princess
myself," she announced, earnestly.
"Hum--ha! Let me see your letter," returned
the rabbit, as if he still doubted
her.
So she hunted in her pocket
and found the letter Ozma had
given her. Then she handed it
through the bars to the rabbit,
who took it in his paws and opened
it. He read it aloud in a pompous
voice, as if to let Dorothy and
Billina see that he was educated
and could read writing. The letter
was as follows:
"It will please
me to have my subjects greet
Princess Dorothy,
the bearer of this royal missive,
with the same courtesy and consideration
they would extend to me."
"Ha--hum! It is signed 'Ozma
of Oz,'" continued the rabbit, "and
is sealed with the Great Seal
of the Emerald City. Well, well,
well! How strange! How remarkable!"
"What are you going to do about
it?" inquired Dorothy, impatiently.
"We must obey the royal mandate," replied
the rabbit. "We are subjects
of Ozma of Oz, and we live in
her country. Also we are under
the protection of the great Sorceress
Glinda the Good, who made us
promise to respect Ozma's commands."
"Then may I come in?" she
asked.
"I'll open the door," said
the rabbit. He shut the window
and disappeared, but a moment
afterward a big door in the wall
opened and admitted Dorothy to
a small room, which seemed to
be a part of the wall and built
into it.
Here stood the rabbit she had
been talking with, and now that
she could see all of him, she
gazed at the creature in surprise.
He was a good sized white rabbit
with pink eyes, much like all
other white rabbits. But the
astonishing thing about him was
the manner in which he was dressed.
He wore a white satin jacket
embroidered with gold, and having
diamond buttons. His vest was
rose-colored satin, with tourmaline
buttons. His trousers were white,
to correspond with the jacket,
and they were baggy at the knees--like
those of a zouave--being tied
with knots of rose ribbons. His
shoes were of white plush with
diamond buckles, and his stockings
were rose silk.
The richness and even magnificence
of the rabbit's clothing made
Dorothy stare at the little creature
wonderingly. Toto and Billina
had followed her into the room
and when he saw them the rabbit
ran to a table and sprang upon
it nimbly. Then he looked at
the three through his monocle
and said:
"These companions,
Princess, cannot enter Bunnybury
with you."
"Why not?" asked
Dorothy.
"In the first
place they would frighten our
people, who dislike
dogs above all things on earth;
and, secondly, the letter of
the Royal Ozma does not mention
them."
"But they're my friends," persisted
Dorothy, "and go wherever I go."
"Not this time," said the rabbit,
decidedly. "You, yourself, Princess,
are a welcome visitor, since
you come so highly recommended;
but unless you consent to leave
the dog and the hen in this room
I cannot permit you to enter
the town."
"Never mind us, Dorothy," said
Billina. "Go inside and see what
the place is like. You can tell
us about it afterward, and Toto
and I will rest comfortably here
until you return."
This seemed the best thing
to do, for Dorothy was curious
to see how the rabbit people
lived and she was aware of the
fact that her friends might frighten
the timid little creatures. She
had not forgotten how Toto and
Billina had misbehaved in Bunbury,
and perhaps the rabbit was wise
to insist on their staying outside
the town.
"Very well," she said, "I'll
go in alone. I s'pose you're
the King of this town, aren't
you?"
"No," answered the rabbit, "I'm
merely the Keeper of the Wicket,
and a person of little importance,
although I try to do my duty.
I must now inform you, Princess,
that before you enter our town
you must consent to reduce."
"Reduce what?" asked
Dorothy.
"Your size.
You must become the size of
the rabbits, although
you may retain your own form."
"Wouldn't my clothes be too
big for me?" she inquired.
"No; they will
reduce when your body does."
"Can YOU make me smaller?" asked
the girl.
"Easily," returned
the rabbit.
"And will you
make me big again, when I'm
ready to go away?"
"I will," said
he.
"All right, then; I'm willing," she
announced.
The rabbit jumped from the
table and ran--or rather hopped--to
the further wall, where he opened
a door so tiny that even Toto
could scarcely have crawled through
it.
"Follow me," he
said.
Now, almost any other little
girl would have declared that
she could not get through so
small a door; but Dorothy had
already encountered so many fairy
adventures that she believed
nothing was impossible in the
Land of Oz. So she quietly walked
toward the door, and at every
step she grew smaller and smaller
until, by the time the opening
was reached, she could pass through
it with ease. Indeed, as she
stood beside the rabbit, who
sat upon his hind legs and used
his paws as hands, her head was
just about as high as his own.
Then the Keeper of the Wicket
passed through and she followed,
after which the door swung shut
and locked itself with a sharp
click.
Dorothy now found herself in
a city so strange and beautiful
that she gave a gasp of surprise.
The high marble wall extended
all around the place and shut
out all the rest of the world.
And here were marble houses of
curious forms, most of them resembling
overturned kettles but with delicate
slender spires and minarets running
far up into the sky. The streets
were paved with white marble
and in front of each house was
a lawn of rich green clover.
Everything was as neat as wax,
the green and white contrasting
prettily together.
But the rabbit people were,
after all, the most amazing things
Dorothy saw. The streets were
full of them, and their costumes
were so splendid that the rich
dress of the Keeper of the Wicket
was commonplace when compared
with the others. Silks and satins
of delicate hues seemed always
used for material, and nearly
every costume sparkled with exquisite
gems.
But the lady rabbits outshone
the gentlemen rabbits in splendor,
and the cut of their gowns was
really wonderful. They wore bonnets,
too, with feathers and jewels
in them, and some wheeled baby
carriages in which the girl could
see wee bunnies. Some were lying
asleep while others lay sucking
their paws and looking around
them with big pink eyes.
As Dorothy was no bigger in
size than the grown-up rabbits
she had a chance to observe them
closely before they noticed her
presence. Then they did not seem
at all alarmed, although the
little girl naturally became
the center of attraction and
regarded her with great curiosity.
"Make way!" cried the Keeper
of the Wicket, in a pompous voice; "make
way for Princess Dorothy, who
comes from Ozma of Oz."
Hearing this announcement,
the throng of rabbits gave place
to them on the walks, and as
Dorothy passed along they all
bowed their heads respectfully.
Walking thus through several
handsome streets they came to
a square in the center of the
City. In this square were some
pretty trees and a statue in
bronze of Glinda the Good, while
beyond it were the portals of
the Royal Palace--an extensive
and imposing building of white
marble covered with a filigree
of frosted gold.
|