"Well, there must be some reason," answered Ozma thoughtfully. "I seem to remember this castle." Disregarding the grime and dust, the lovely little Queen walked slowly across the hall and sat down on a golden chest beside the long table. Sir Hokus, finding nothing better to fight than mice and bats, began briskly to clear the room of the pests, while Trot, Betsy and the Patch Work Girl tiptoed here and there talking in tense whispers, for in the silence of the deserted castle their words echoed and re-echoed unpleasantly. Having assured themselves that there was nothing of interest in the great hall, Sir Hokus, the Wizard and the Scarecrow went bravely off to examine the rest of the castle. "I wish they'd come back," whispered Trot, after they'd been gone about five minutes. "Oooh, what's that?" "The wind," quavered Betsy doubtfully. "I don't believe it," shuddered Scraps, tripping over the fire irons and sprawling upon the hearth. "It's a spook. I wanna go home! Just look at me!" Betsy and Trot giggled nervously, for Scraps, covered with grime and soot from her fall, was enough to make anyone laugh. "Never mind," comforted Ozma, "I'll have you dry cleaned when we get back home, but now I'm trying to think, so please do be quiet." Quiet! Scarcely was the word out of her mouth, before there was such a shivering slam overhead that all three girls jumped with terror and Scraps, for greater security leaped clear onto the table, touching as she did so a hidden spring in the top. At this there was a blinding flash and while Ozma, Betsy and Trot clung desperately together and Scraps gave another jump that carried her clear to the chandelier, the center of the table rose up before their eyes, disclosing a long silver casket. "Don't touch it!" warned the Patch Work Girl, swinging dizzily 'round and 'round. "A goblin, a goblin will jump out and bite us, There's a giant upstairs and he's coming to smite us!" Someone certainly was coming down the stairs. Scarcely daring to look, they waited anxiously for the next happening. "What befell?" It was Sir Hokus of Pokes and not a giant who stuck his head through the doorway. "Did'st call maidens?" asked the Knight, looking up at Scraps in vague disapproval. Without stopping to explain what had frightened them, Ozma pointed a trembling finger at the silver casket and before any of them could beg him not to, Sir Hokus strode forward and opened the mysterious chest. Scraps hid her head in her arm. Then, hearing no screams nor explosions, she finally screwed up enough courage to look down. The Wizard of Oz and the Scarecrow had returned and they were all staring in amazement at a green velvet robe which Sir Hokus had taken from the chest. "Royal robe of his Majesty, the King of Oz!" boomed the Knight, reading from a small tag on the ermine collar.