"Certainly!" honked Pajuka, fluttering down. "I'd know him in any shape. But why do you ask? What makes you think the King is a goat? Are there any goats around here?" Shooting out his neck, Pajuka began peering this way and that.
"I don't know," admitted Snip frankly. "I was just wondering."
"You talk too much," snapped Mombi, stopping to pull up her stocking. "If I could remember my magic I'd turn you to a parrot!"
At this several of the trees that edged the pathway burst into loud roars of laughter, shaking all over and clasping themselves about the trunk with their branches. Snip was so astonished that he jumped backward and Pajuka, stepping on his own toes, fell forward on his head.
"Oh, my dear Will, these are funny ones," chortled the first tree. "Look at that ridiculous bird and that squidgety old skumpus, and would you count the buttons on the boy's suit. Oh! Oh! I shall die laughing!"
Now Snip's suit, like all the suits of the button wood boys, was generously trimmed with buttons. He had always considered it quite handsome, but now, as the trees continued to rock and roar with merriment, he began to feel uncomfortable and a little provoked.
"Quit your laughing!" puffed Pajuka indignantly. "What right have trees to laugh at people?"
"Every right in Oz," chuckled the second tree, leaning down to tickle Mombi under the chin with one of its twigs. "We're laughing willows, we are, always looking for a good joke, Hah! Hah! And the laugh is on us, Ho! Ho! Isn't that funny, Tree He?"
"Well, we're not jokes," said Snip stiffly. "Come on, Pajuka!" This set the willows to laughing so heartily that their leaves fell in perfect showers. Mombi, in a rage, clapped her hands to her ears and hobbled off and Snip, after a few more remarks which only made the trees laugh harder, ran after her.
"I must say I prefer weeping willows," wheezed Pajuka, catching up with Snip and smoothing out his feathers with his bill. One of the willows had actually had the temerity to tweak him by the tail.