"How'd you find Jellia and the Soldier? What became of the Ozpril? Where's the Emerald safe?" questioned Nick, leaving Strut's side and hurrying to seize the little Wizard by both lapels, for he could restrain his curiosity no longer. "Quite a story--quite a story," puffed the Wizard, closing one eye, "Ask me again some long winter evening." Jerking away from Nick, he ran off to fetch his black bag of magic, from which he had been separated far too long. "I suppose you are quite anxious to return to your own country," said Ozma, addressing herself to the Ruler of the Strat as she seated herself on a small, satin sofa. "Not without my army," blustered Strut, defiantly. "It is neither fair nor honest for one ruler to destroy by magic the fighting forces of another!" "Your army is not destroyed," Ozma told him evenly. "It already is in Stratovania, transported there by this magic belt." Lightly, the dark-haired fairy touched the gem-studded girdle she was wearing. "And--speaking of honesty and fairness," she went on seriously, "did you think it honest or fair to come here, take possession of my castle, and try to steal all my treasure and jewels?" Strut had the grace to blush, and as there was no good answer to Ozma's question, he looked haughtily over the heads of the company regarding him so accusingly. "Well, have you anything to say?" inquired Ozma sternly. "Whether or not you return to your Kingdom depends entirely upon yourself and how you treat Kabebe." At mention of his Queen, Strut started, involuntarily. "By the way--here's that silly crown you made me wear!" said Jellia, handing over the star-tipped circlet she had been wearing since her visit to the Strat. "Remember me to the Piper when you see him and to Junnenrump and Hippenscop." "Are you sure you'd rather not live in the Strat as a Starina, than stay here with us?" asked Ozma, smiling mischievously, as Jellia backed away from the frowning airman. "Never! Never! NEVER!" cried Jellia, taking a long step backward at each word. "I've had enough of Kings to last me the rest of my life!" A little ripple of laughter followed Jellia's blunt refusal, and taking pity on the mortified Airlander, Ozma touched her belt and whispered the magic word that would transport him to his own country. "But can you trust him?" worried Nick Chopper, as the Stratovanian vanished before their eyes. "How do you know he won't blow things up as soon as he returns?" "Because I've removed all power from his Blowmen's horns," Ozma told him quietly. "He'll be all right, and for the kind of people he rules--Strut probably is the best sort of ruler they could have." "If you ask me," observed the Cowardly Lion, shaking his mane vigorously, "the worst punishment anyone could have would be to live on wind pudding and air-ade. Wooof!"