“Well, you had no business to take it in the first place,” burst out Peter angrily. “I found the magic casket and the cloak is mine! What good would it have done, any way, if it had carried you to the Emerald City?” he continued more calmly. “You would have left all this treasure behind and had no one to help you capture your belt.”
“That’s so,” admitted Ruggedo, sitting down with the cloak in his lap. “If I had gone you would have taken all the jewels for yourself.”
“You bet I would.” Folding his arms Peter stared sternly down at the mean little gnome. “Why can’t you play fair?” he demanded indignantly.
“Well, weren’t you going to fly back to Philadelphia and leave me?” asked Ruggedo triumphantly. “Hah! Hah! You’re no better than I am. That’s why I like you,” he finished maliciously.
Peter blushed a little at the Gnome King’s shrewd guess. He had been going to wish himself back to Philadelphia, but pretending not to care, he swept up the other treasures from the magic box and put them into his pocket.
“If you keep the cloak, I shall keep these!” he announced firmly, “and I know why the cloak won’t work, too!”
“Why?” In spite of himself, Ruggedo’s voice trembled with eagerness.
“Oh—because!” Smiling provokingly and whistling a careless tune, Peter climbed up the ladder. Ruggedo was after him in a flash.
“Tell me!” begged the gnome in his most coaxing voice. “Don’t you realize that with the magic cloak I can fly into Ozma’s palace and recover my belt without being detected. And when I do,” he promised earnestly, “I’ll transport you immediately back to Philadelphia—you and all the gold pieces.”
“Promise?” Ruggedo nodded so vigorously his hair blew backward and forward seven times.