“Never mind,” whispered Peg Amy, standing on her tip toes to whisper in Kabumpo’s huge ear, “it’s taking us in the right direction, and maybe, if we were very polite—?” “Go ahead and try it,” wheezed Kabumpo, rolling his eyes. “I’m too upset.” He hugged the tree again. So Peg climbed to the top of the little hill and, waving her wooden arms to attract the Country’s attention, called cheerfully: “Yoho, Mr. Land! Where are you going?” [Illustration: (unlabelled)] At first the Land only blinked his blue lake-eyes sulkily but, as Peg paid no attention to his ill temper and began making him pretty compliments on his mountains and trees, he gradually cheered up. “I’m going to be an island,” he announced finally. “That’s where I’m going. I’m tired of being a hot, dry old undiscovered plateau and I don’t intend to stop till I come to the Nonestic Ocean.” “Oh!” groaned Wag, falling over backwards. “We’re going to be cast away on a desert island.” Peg held up a warning finger. “What made you want to run away and be an island?” she asked faintly for, even to Peg, things looked serious. “Well,” began the Land, giving itself a hitch, “I lay patiently for years and years waiting to be discovered. Nobody came—not even one little missionary. I kept getting lonelier and lonelier. You see how broken up I am!” “Yes, we can see that, all right,” sniffed Kabumpo. “And I’m ambitious,” continued the Country huskily. “I want to be cultivated and built up like other Kingdoms. So, one day I made up my mind I wouldn’t wait any longer but would run off myself and discover some settlers. As I have ten mountains and each has a foot there seemed to be no reason why I shouldn’t run away, so I _did_—and I _have_!” The Country rolled its lakes triumphantly at the little party on the hill. “I have found some settlers and I’m looking to you to develop me into a good, modern, up-to-Oz Kingdom. I’m a progressive Country and I expect you to improve and make something out of me,” it continued earnestly. “There’s gold to be dug out of my mountains, plenty of good farm land to be planted and cities to be built, and—” “What do you think we are?” exploded Kabumpo indignantly. “Slaves?” “He’ll get used to it in time,” said the Runaway Country, paying no attention to Kabumpo, “and he’ll be useful for drawing logs. Now you,” he turned his watery eyes full on Peg Amy, “you seem to be the most sensible one in the party, so I think I shall bestow myself upon you. Of course you’re not at all handsome nor regular, but from now on you may consider yourself a Princess and _me_ as your Kingdom.” “Thank you! Thank you very much!” said Peg Amy, hardly knowing what else to say. “Hurrah for the Princess of Runaway Island!” cried Wag, standing on his head. “I always knew you were a Princess, Peg my dear.” “Oh, hush!” whispered Pompa. “Can’t you see it’s getting more reasonable? Maybe Peg can persuade it to stop.”