“And what’s that you’ve got on your back?” he called, with a wave of his paw at Pompa. “A dunce?” “Dunce!” screamed Kabumpo furiously. “This is the Prince of Pumperdink, you good-for-nothing lettuce-eater! What do you mean by laughing at royalty?” “Royalty! Oh, ha, ha, ha!” roared Wag, rolling over and over in the grass. “But he’s so funny!” He paused to take another look at the Prince. At this Kabumpo lunged forward, his eyes snapping angrily. “Stop!” begged the Prince, tugging Kabumpo by the ear. “You were rude to his friend that—er—doll, so you must expect him to be rude to me. It’s all your fault,” he added reproachfully. “Are you a Prince?” asked Peg Amy, staring up at Pompa with her round, painted eyes. “Of course he’s a Prince. Didn’t I say so before? Who is that hoppy creature?” “That’s Wag—such a dear fellow.” Peg smiled confidently at Kabumpo and he was suddenly ashamed of himself for laughing at her. “Well, he needn’t get waggish with me,” grumbled the Elegant Elephant in a lower voice. “Oh, don’t quarrel!” begged Peg. “It’s such a lovely morning and you both look so interesting.” Kabumpo eyed the big Wooden Doll attentively. It was smart of her to think him interesting. He cleared his throat gruffly. “You’re not as funny as you look,” he admitted grandly, which was the nearest to an apology he had ever come. “But what are you doing here and why are you alive?” “I don’t know,” explained Peg apologetically. “It just happened last night.” “It did? Well, where are you going?” [Illustration: (unlabelled)] Wag still looked cross and his nose was twitching violently, but Peg politely answered Kabumpo’s question. “We’re on our way to Ev to try to help Ozma,” said the Wooden Doll, folding her hands quaintly. “Why so are _we_!” cried Pompa, sliding down Kabumpo’s trunk in a hurry. “How do _you_ expect to help her?” grunted Kabumpo, looking at Wag and Peg contemptuously. “Don’t mind him,” begged Pompa, running up to Peg Amy. “Tell me everything you know about Ozma. Is she pretty?” “Beautiful,” breathed Peg, looking up at the sky. “Beautiful and lovely and good. That’s why I want to help her.” “Then I sha’n’t mind marrying her at all,” said Pompa, with a great sigh of relief. “Gooch!” roared Kabumpo angrily—“Telling everything you know!” “Do you mean to say you think Ozma would marry _you_?” gasped Wag, sitting up with a jerk. “Oh, my wocks and hoop soons!” His ears crossed and uncrossed and with a final gurgle of disbelief Wag fell back on the grass. “Well, is there anything so strange in that?” asked Pompa in a hurt voice. “I’ve _got_ to marry her,” he added, desperately appealing to Peg Amy. And while Kabumpo stood sulkily swinging his trunk the Prince told Peg the whole story of the magic scroll.