"Not so loud," begged Mombi, raising her stick and glancing uneasily over her shoulder, as if she half suspected someone were listening. Then, seeing Pajuka was going to honk again, she added defiantly, "I don't remember what I did with him!" Now Snip, who loved King Kinda Jolly with all his heart, was stunned at this dreadful news. Undecided whether to run for help or stay and listen, he finally decided to stay and crept close to the inner edge of the sill. Pajuka seemed stunned too. "How frightful," choked the goose dolefully, "how careless of you to mislay the King. How dare you forget?" "Well, there's no use quarreling about it," grumbled Mombi. "Who cares anyway? Ozma is Queen now and nobody even remembers there was a King of Oz!" "Of Oz!" Snip, between relief at finding nothing had happened to King Kinda Jolly and shock at the old witch's words, lost his hold on the window bars and fell straight into Mombi's arms. "A spy!" shrieked Mombi, beginning to shake him backward and forward. "A spy!" "Now who's making a racket," demanded Pajuka triumphantly. "Keep that up and you'll have the whole castle about our ears. Besides, if he's a spy, where is his spy glass?" "Idiot!" hissed Mombi, but she lowered her voice and stopped shaking Snip. "Why, you're as simple as you look," she muttered contemptuously. "And you're as wicked," retorted the goose, staring sharply at Snip. "Let that boy alone or I'll honk my head off." Snip's ears were buzzing from the shaking and he looked gratefully at Pajuka. "Do you think I'm going to let him carry his tales to Kinda Jolly? No sir! Into the soup kettle with him," puffed Mombi, rushing Snip toward the stove. But at her first step, the white goose flung himself at her head with such an outcry that she stopped at once. "Let the boy alone," panted Pajuka. Then, seeing that it was useless to appeal to Mombi's goodness he began to appeal to her badness. "The King will reward you generously, if you restore him to the throne," began Pajuka craftily. "Nothing is to be gained by this quarreling. Let us put our heads together and find the King of Oz." Still holding Snip tightly by the wrist, Mombi sank upon a crooked stool and, half closing her eyes, began to think of the bad old days before little Ozma was Queen--the bad old days when witches had been free to practice their arts and she herself was one of the most powerful witches in the land. "I'll do it!" declared Mombi suddenly. "But how shall we find him when I forget what I have done with him?" "I'd know him anywhere," gulped Pajuka, two tears dropping off the end of his bill. "Haven't I been hunting him all these years?" "Yes, but I think he is transformed," muttered Mombi uneasily. "If the King is not himself how do you expect to recognize him?" "I'd know him in any shape," insisted the goose. "But try--try to remember. You turned Ozma to a boy and me to a goose. What did you do with the King?"