“And Ozma thinks I’m having a fine visit with the Tin Woodman,” sighed Dorothy wearily, toward the end of the second day.
“And Peer Haps thinks I’m rescuing his daughter,” groaned Percy Vere, letting the Queen’s red table cloth slip back into his tub and staring mournfully down Monday Mountain. Then seeing that Dorothy was actually near to tears, he tilted his cap over one eye and whispered this verse into her right ear:
“It’s wash, splosh, rub
And hang ’em up for dryin’,
If sumpin doesn’t happen soon
I’ll simply bust out—?”
“Cryin’!” Dorothy smiled and dashed the tears out of her eyes. “Here comes the old lady!” she finished hurriedly.
“Isn’t she simply sinoobious,” sniffed Percy, dousing the red table cloth up and down in the water.
“What did you say?” roared the Queen of the Tubbies.
“I said,” grinned Percy mischievously:
“Her Highness is so beautiful
Her brightness dims the eye,
I’ll work here and be dutiful
Until the day I, I—?”
“Die!” spluttered Dorothy, and the clumsy Queen lumbered on with a pleased smirk.
“Better make up your mind to marry Pearl,” she called over her shoulder and Pearl Borax blew Percy a wet kiss over her tub of clothes. Toto, who was tied to Dorothy’s tub, growled fiercely—for he loathed the whole tribe of sloppy, messy wash women.