"I'll tell you one thing," murmured the great bird, nestling close to Notta. "You're beautiful, beau-ti-ful!" He rolled his eyes rapturously.
"Well, if you don't want my beauty broken to pieces tell us a way to escape," begged the clown, looking nervously toward the edge of the skyland.
"There's only one way for you to leave," said Snorer, "and that is in the royal Flyaboutabus."
"What is it?" choked Notta.
"Where is it?" roared the Cowardly Lion.
"Tied to a tree near the palace. But we'll have to wait till the Uns go to wish," replied Nick, rubbing his head against Notta's knee. And while the three listened in amazement Snorer told them a bit about life on the Isle of Un. No one on Un, explained Nick gravely, ever worked, but each morning they went regularly to wish, and nothing was allowed to interrupt their wishing. For three hours they shouted their wishes as loudly as they could, and I-wish-I-was, because he could wish faster and shout louder than any of the rest, had been made king.
"You'll hear them at it soon," said Snorer, adjusting his nose, "and that's the best time for you to leave. Afternoons they fish and evenings they fight. Wish, fish and fight—that's the program here."
"But how do they get anything done?" asked Notta, standing on his head to settle his feathers.
"They don't," replied Snorer calmly. "Everything is undone; and about your feathers," he pointed his claw at the Cowardly Lion's mane, "every time anything unish happens to you you'll grow another. First you were unwise to come here. That accounts for one; then you were uncomfortable and unsafe."
"Unlucky, unhappy and unfed!" spluttered the clown, turning a somersault with each word. "Lead us to the Flyaboutabus, old fellow, or we'll soon be as feathered as geese."