"Well, not much," sighed the goose, rubbing his head with his wing. "You see it was so long ago. I do remember we were in a small greenwood near where the Emerald City stands to-day when you changed me to a goose. But as you drove me away immediately, I never knew what became of the King."
"Then it was green magic!" cried Mombi, springing up exultantly. "We must go to the Emerald City and find that wood, for if the King was transformed by green magic he must be restored by green magic, and the only place where green magic takes effect is in and around the Emerald City. Once there I will doubtless remember everything," chuckled Mombi. "If I don't, I'll just steal some of Ozma's magic. I'll steal the magic belt, restore the King to the throne and have my revenge for all these weary years. I'll turn Ozma to a piano and thump her every day," continued Mombi, rubbing her hands gleefully together. "I'll turn everyone else in the palace to one object and then destroy that object—"
"I object!" spluttered Pajuka, treading on the old witch's toes in his excitement.
"So will they," grinned Mombi, showing her yellow tusks, "but it will do them no good. Don't stand staring at me, simpleton. Light the fire." Whirling upon Snip, Mombi raised her stick threateningly, and Snip, who had been staring with open mouth (for he had never heard so much badness in his whole life) made haste to do as he was told.
Mombi, still muttering and chuckling, began to lay out the chicken and cheese upon the tree stump. Though the fire snapped merrily enough, supper was not very cheerful for Snip, but he ate the chicken wing and small bit of cheese that Mombi grudgingly gave him and broke up some bread for Pajuka.
"Where've you been all these years?" asked the old witch, looking curiously at the goose over her mug of coffee.
"Everywhere, everywhere in Oz, searching for you and the King," puffed Pajuka. "I've lived with miserable barnyard fowls, eating farmers' scraps, and in constant danger of the ax. You might have made me a wild goose, then at least I should have had some fun. I shudder when I think how near I've been to roasting."
"Well, didn't they roast you in the old days?" replied Mombi unfeelingly. "Prime ministers are as often roasted as geese!"
"Yes, but not in the same way." Pajuka rolled his eyes sadly at Snip.
"Why didn't you tell Ozma or Glinda on her," asked the little button boy boldly.