"Put plenty of pockets in mine!" puffed Pajuka, sinking into his seat with another yawn.
"I'll need a boy in my shop, too," smiled the King, looking down the long table. "How about it, Snip? Will you stay?"
"A good place for a button boy," giggled Scraps, while Snip himself blushed with pleasure and excitement.
"Oh, I'd love to!" cried Snip. "But may I go back to Kimbaloo first and tell Kinda Jolly where I am?"
"Of course, of course," promised the royal tailor, beaming upon everyone. "And now, as we are all tired and sleepy (the King winked at Pajuka who was trying to hide another monstrous yawn) I move that we all retire."
"That will be the second time you've retired to-day," laughed Snip, pushing back his chair and running to open the door for his Majesty. For in spite of his abdication they all felt that Pastoria was a real King.
"Oh, isn't everything turning out splendidly?" sighed Dorothy, pressing the Scarecrow's arm. "The King will be a lot happier as a tailor and every tailor needs a dummy, so that takes care of Humpy. And won't it be fun to have Snip in the Emerald City?"
"I should say!" grinned the Scarecrow, and then, because nobody could stay awake another minute, they bade each other good night and hurried off to bed.
Snip and the Prime Minister shared a sumptuous apartment in the east wing and, hearing a strange noise in the night, Snip sat up in alarm. Pajuka's bed was empty, but standing on one leg over by the window and snoring like a goodfellow (which indeed he was) stood the huge Prime Minister, his head resting peacefully on his shoulder.
"He thinks he's still a goose," smiled Snip, snuggling down under the covers.