Ozma, surprised enough at the party, was so startled and dismayed by the oztrich’s roars that she caught at a little gold stand to keep from falling. As she steadied herself, two arms clasped themselves round her waist.
“Oh! Oh! Someone is trying to steal my magic belt!” wailed the little fairy, swaying dizzily from side to side.
“Take this! Take this!” Bounding to his feet, Peter picked up the oztrich egg and fairly forced it into Ozma’s arms. As he did so there came a blood-curdling screech, and then, perfect silence.
“It’s Ruggedo!” puffed the Patchwork Girl, who had picked herself up by this time.
“Look for a blue patch! Look for a blue patch!” panted Grumpy, standing on his hind legs and sniffing the air anxiously. But there was no sign of a blue patch anywhere, for Ruggedo at the first glimpse of the egg had commanded the magic cloak to carry him to the royal stable. Here, trembling and shaken, he cowered in the Hungry Tiger’s stall. Furious to have been frustrated by Peter at the very instant when success seemed sure, he raved and sputtered and tried to think up some way to get his belt in spite of the hateful egg. Meanwhile, in the palace, the utmost confusion prevailed, and when the hand of Kuma again flashed into the banquet hall and flew like an arrow to Ozma and dropped the note of warning into her lap, the courtiers fled in every direction, while the celebrities crowded close about the little Queen to protect her from these confusing and invisible enemies.
“Stop! Stop!” panted Peter, as Sir Hokus, waving his sword, made determined swings at the flying arm. “It’s a helping hand! It belongs to a friend of mine, Sir!” Tugging at the iron coat tails of the Knight, he sought to dissuade him from his grim purpose, but not until Ozma clapped sharply did the good Knight desist.
Leaning back wearily in the chair to which the Scarecrow had guided her, and still holding the great oztrich egg in her lap, Ozma turned to Scraps.
“What does this mean? Who are these strangers, and where is the Gnome King?” asked Ozma in a faint voice. As she spoke, Kuma’s hand patted Peter approvingly on the head, doubled into a fist under the Knight’s nose and, sailing upward, settled quietly on the green chandelier.
“I’ve been a Queen, I’ve riz and fell