“I don’t care what it says,” shouted the little Quilty angrily, “I refuse to take orders from a cow. Is this our future sovereign?” he demanded indignantly. The spool had stopped indeed, and under the very horns of a cross brown cow.
“Moo!” bellowed the cow, lowering her head threateningly.
“That’s just what we will do,” sniffed Scrapper, “move on!” At Scrapper’s words, the Spool of Succession, as if it had been waiting for a signal, zipped under the cow, dragging both ministers along, and from the way it behaved in the next half hour, I am convinced that some mighty bad magic had gone into its making. It rushed furiously under fences, over which the breathless Quilties were forced to climb, ’round and ’round trees, till they were almost too dizzy to stand, up hills and down hills, through stickery bushes and over sharp stones. It even dragged them head first into a muddy river.
“Let’s go home,” blubbered Piecer, shaking himself like a big dog. Fortunately the Quilties could swim, but swimming in quilted trousers and coats was no fun at all and, dripping water and mud, the two sovereign seekers felt more depressed than ever.
“It’s bewitched,” insisted Piecer, tugging at Scrapper’s coat-tails. “Let’s go back!”
But Scrapper stubbornly shook his head and trudged stubbornly after the mischievous Spool of Succession. It was unwinding quite deliberately now, but leading them deep into a dangerous looking forest.
“I wish Cross Patch had never gone to pieces,” moaned Piecer dismally. “I don’t care who’s Imperial Potentate. I wish someone else had my position. I wish—”
“There’s a sign,” interrupted Scrapper. “Look! It says ‘Emerald City, thirty-five miles’.”
“Emerald City!” panted Piecer, forgetting his weariness for a moment. “Why, that’s the capital of Oz. Patches and pincushions! Why, I never expected to see the Emerald City! Maybe our next Queen’s in the capital, old fellow!”
“Well, then she ought to make a capital Queen,” sighed Scrapper, leaning over to untwine a bramble from his left shin, “but who wants to walk thirty-five miles?”