"But she doesn't even know her father's alive," protested Snip. Though he had never seen Ozma, he had a great affection for the little Queen. "What will become of Ozma when we find the King?" he asked doubtfully.
"Oh, she can go back and play with her dolls. She's only a little girl anyway," answered the goose carelessly. Snip did not quite approve of this either, so he changed the subject again.
"There wasn't any Emerald City then, was there Pajuka?"
"No, but we had a splendid castle where the Emerald City now stands and hunting parks in every country of Oz. Ah, those were the good old days," sighed Pajuka sorrowfully. "If I could but see my dear master again I'd be content to remain a goose for the rest of my life."
"I s'pose you do miss him," said Snip sympathetically.
"Miss him!" Pajuka gave a great gulp and turned his head to wipe his tears on his feathers. "Why, I miss him even more than my pockets," groaned the poor goose in a smothered voice.
Snip would have liked to hear more about the King, but a loud screech from Mombi interrupted the story. "Where've you been?" croaked the witch, emerging from a little patch of trees and blinking at them crossly. "I've been ready for hours. C'mon! Do you think this is a picnic?"
"Don't sass me, woman," wheezed Pajuka with great dignity, "or I'll not help you a mite. Who got us into this ridiculous mess, may I ask?"
Mombi paid no attention to Pajuka's remarks, but began hobbling down the road and Snip, who could hardly wait to reach the Emerald City, hurried after her, still mumbling crossly to herself. The goose sulkily brought up the rear. The road was fairly good, and zig-zagged pleasantly enough through meadows and fields.
"But aren't there any houses?" asked Snip, as they passed through a deserted stretch of woodland. "Aren't there any people or villages or towns?"