By this time the Prime Pumper had recovered sufficiently to remember that reading scrolls and court papers was his business. Somewhat unsteadily he walked over and took the scroll from the King. “Oyez! Oyez!” he faltered, pounding on the table. “Oh, never mind that!” rumbled Kabumpo, flagging his ears. “Let’s hear what it says!” [Illustration: (unlabelled)] “Know ye,” began the old man in a high, shaky voice, “know ye that unless ye Prince of ye ancient and honorable Kingdom of Pumperdink wed ye Proper Fairy Princess in ye proper span of time ye Kingdom of Pumperdink shall disappear forever and _even longer_ from ye Gilliken country of Oz. _J. G._” “What?” screamed Pompadore, bounding to his feet. “Me? But I don’t _want_ to marry!” “You’ll have to,” groaned the King, with a wave at the scroll. The Courtiers sat staring at one another in dazed disbelief. From the courtyard came the splash and splutter of the luckless footmen and the dismal creaking of the stone bucket. “Oh!” wailed Pompa, throwing up his hands. “This is the worst eighteenth birthday I’ve ever had. I’ll never have another as long as I live!” [Illustration: (unlabelled)] [Illustration: (unlabelled)] Chapter 2 Picking a Proper Princess “What shall we do first?” groaned the King, holding his head with both hands. “Let me think!” “Right,” said Kabumpo. “Think by all means.” So the great hall was cleared and the King, with the mysterious scroll spread out before him, thought and thought and _thought_. But he did not make much headway, for, as he explained over and over to Queen Pozy, who—with Pompadore, the Elegant Elephant and the Prime Pumper—had remained to help him, “How is one to know where to find the Proper Princess, and how is one to know the proper time for Pompa to wed her?” Who was J.G.? How did the scroll get in the cake? The more the King thought about these questions, the more wrinkled his forehead became. “Why! We’re liable to wake up any morning and find ourselves gone,” he announced gloomily. “How does it feel to disappear, I wonder?” “I suppose it would give one rather a gone feeling, but I don’t believe it would hurt—much!” volunteered Kabumpo, glancing uneasily over his shoulder. “Perhaps not, but it would not get us anywhere. My idea is to marry the Prince at once to a Proper Princess,” put in the Prime Pumper, “and avoid all this disappearing.” “You’re in a great hurry to marry me off, aren’t you,” said Pompadore sulkily. “For my part, I don’t want to marry at all!” “Well, that’s very selfish of you, Pompa,” said the King in a grieved voice. “Do you want your poor old father to disappear?” “Not only your poor old father,” choked the Prime Pumper, rolling up his eyes. “How about me?”