Now having wings sounds fine enough, but one must be born with wings to wear them comfortably. Akbad could neither sit nor lie down with any ease and when he walked the wings trailed disturbingly behind him. He found, after several trials that he could still fly, but not beyond the shore of the island and as he sank exhausted on the rocks the King and his army came marching back. They had tramped boldly into the monster's cave, but had of course found neither Quiberon nor Trot. As they knew nothing of the caves beyond the water-fall they had sadly turned homeward. The King at least was sad, the others, while they said nothing of it, were secretly delighted to find themselves alive. "Quiberon has gone," declared Cheeriobed gravely. "The mortal maiden also has vanished. But as you have saved Philador I shall say nothing of the stealing of the golden pear. There is naught to do now but wait for the coming of Ozma and the little Prince. And no doubt Ozma will find a way to save this mortal child." "No doubt," muttered Akbad and, as the King shaking his head went on up to the palace, the Soothsayer flew into a tall tree and tried to think up the excuses he would offer his Majesty when Ozma failed to appear. As for Cheeriobed, troubled though he was over the disappearance of the little mortal, he could not help but think that the worst of his misfortunes were over. Almost cheerfully, he bustled about giving orders for a grand reception to welcome Ozma to his Island Kingdom and bidding the royal household have everything in readiness for Philador's return. [Illustration: KING CHEERIOBED] CHAPTER 7 The Trials of Tattypoo On the same evening Philador and Akbad flew off from the Ozure Isles, the Good Witch of the North sat quietly before her fire, spinning silver from straw. From time to time Agnes, her pet dragon, would toss a log on the blaze and set it glowing with her fiery breath. The cat with two tails purred drowsily in the chimney corner and nothing could have been cozier than this little room in the good witch's hut. And Tattypoo was content. Ruling over the north Country, settling disputes between its small kingdoms, and advising the Gillikens about everything from birthday parties to preserves, filled her time most pleasantly. The door of the good witch's hut was never bolted and no one, coming for help or advice, had ever been turned away. So though her skin was drawn and wrinkled and her hair white as snow, and the little hut plainly, even poorly furnished, Tattypoo was perfectly happy.