At the excited cries, the others, who were just around a bend in the road, broke into a run. Sir Hokus, puffing and still indignant, pointed to his shield. The second message of the magic quill was as amazing as the first, which had sent them to Morrow.
"Well, that saves us hunting for him," observed the Scarecrow, cheerfully picking up the goose quill. "He must have found himself, you know. Shall I keep this my dear?"
"Please do," sighed Ozma, staring hard at the message, which the Knight was vainly trying to rub from his shield, "and let's hurry. Just think, my father is in the castle! Hurry! Hurry! We're almost home!" And setting an example herself, the little fairy girl fairly flew down the road.
"I for one shall not recognize this King," shouted Scraps, running awkwardly after Ozma.
"I wonder whether he'll let us live in the castle?" puffed Trot, who was running hand in hand with Betsy Bobbin. "I kinda wish he'd never turned up, don't you?"
Betsy nodded emphatically, and it must be confessed that all of the others shared Trot's wish. But as Ozma herself seemed so happy at her father's restoration, such thoughts seemed almost treasonable and no one but Scraps voiced his real opinion.
Ozma, being a fairy, did not tire as easily as the rest, but even Ozma had to slacken her pace before they came to the Emerald City. Indeed, it was a hard two-hour journey before they reached the outskirts of the capital. Hot, tired and dusty, they hurried through the quiet streets. No one in the city had discovered Ozma's absence, for the searchers in the palace had gone off without notifying anyone, so they stared in surprise at the breathless little company. Without stopping to explain, the royal party hurried on to the palace itself, for was not the King already there and waiting for them?