“What!” exclaimed Fumbo, opening his eyes as far as they would go. “I’ll come!” he decided hastily, “and you must tell me every single bit of the story.”
Grampa smiled slyly, Tatters promised and before he could change his mind, the old soldier thrust the King’s head into the pink bag Maribella had used for her knitting. Then, accompanied by the little sky shepherdess, Grampa and his army prepared to leave the sky. The other heads looked very sulky as they passed by but, paying no attention to their mutterings, Grampa marched to the edge of the great pink cloud.
“Now what?” mused the old soldier, staring down anxiously. “Are there any steps or air ships about, my dear?”
Maribella shook her head. “But there’s a rainbow,” she cried suddenly. “Could you use that?” Arching from the edge of the cloud and down as far as they could see, curved a wide glittering rainbow—for the storm was over and the sun was shining through the clouds. Dancing down the rainbow came a fairy almost as lovely as Urtha herself. It was Polychrome, the Rain King’s daughter, and when Maribella explained that Grampa and his company were from Oz, she insisted upon kissing them all—for Polychrome had visited in Oz many times and had met with some fine adventures there.
“Come on,” cried Polychrome gaily, “I’ll show you how to travel on a rainbow.” Seizing Urtha by the hand, she began running down the bow as you and I would run down steps. Calling good-bye to Maribella, Grampa and Tatters quickly followed, the Prince carrying his father’s head and the red umbrella and Grampa balancing Bill upon his shoulder.
“Now all we have to find is the Princess and the fortune, and a couple of new pipes,” sighed Grampa.
“Ah, let’s go home without them,” begged Tatters eagerly. “I want to show Urtha the castle and the pigeons. We don’t need a fortune to be happy, Grampa.”
“Now don’t give up yet,” advised Grampa, turning to wag his finger at the Prince. “There’s always a fortune at the end of the rainbow. Look! I believe we’re coming down in the Winkie country, and when we do,” Grampa pulled his whiskers determinedly, “I’m going to get myself an anchor. I’m tired of this flying and falling about.”
“Use me,” crowed Bill, but as he spoke the bow grew suddenly so very slant that instead of running they began to slide—faster and faster and faster.
“Good-bye,” called Polychrome mischievously. “I’d come with you, but it’s my Daddy’s birthday and we’re having a party in the sky.”