Peg Amy was growing fonder and fonder of pompous old Kabumpo and by the time he had recovered his breath Wag and the Prince came ambling back together. They had found an orchard and a kitchen garden and as they were no longer hungry, both were more cheerful.
“Let’s play scop hotch,” suggested Wag amiably. “I’m tired of hunting Princesses.” There was a smooth patch of sand under the trees and Wag hopped over and began marking out the squares with his paw.
“Scop hotch!” laughed Pompa, While Peg gave a skip of delight.
“Play if you want to,” wheezed Kabumpo, shaking himself wearily, “I feel about as playful as a stone lion. Besides, hop scotch isn’t an elephant game.”
Peg, Wag and Pompa began to hop scotch for dear life. Peg often tumbled over, for it is hard to keep your balance on wooden legs, but it was Peg who won in the end and Wag crowned her with daisies.
“I wish we could go on just as we are,” gasped Pompa, mopping his face with his silk handkerchief. “We’re all good chums and, if it weren’t for Pumperdink’s disappearing, we might travel all over Oz and have no end of adventures together.”
“Speaking of disappearing,” said Kabumpo, opening one eye, for he had dozed off during the game, “I suppose we’d better be starting if we’re to save the Kingdom at all.”
“Good-bye to pleasure,” sighed Pompa, as Kabumpo lifted him to his back. “Good-bye to everything!”
“Oh, cheer up,” begged Peg, settling herself on Wag’s back.