"Dumb?" whinnied the white steed with an indignant snort.
"I'm not a dumb beast, I can laugh, I can talk,
That's becoz I'm from Oz and my full name is Chalk."
"Cha—lk?" quavered Skamperoo, who had never heard an animal speak a word in his life. "He—he says his name's Chalk." The King looked appealingly at the merchant and seeing he would have to live up to the role of magician, Matiah assumed an air of careless superiority.
"Well, he doubtless knows his own name, your Majesty. If he says his name is Chalk it probably is Chalk, and the reason he can talk is because he comes from Oz, land of the magic necklaces, where all animals speak as well as we do."
"Better," sniffed Chalk. Then, taking an experimental nibble at the cactus, he gave a terrific squeal of pain and displeasure—flung up his heels and began to race around the garden at such a furious pace, Matiah and the King jumped behind the bench and cowered miserably against the wall.
"Well, there you are!" panted the merchant angrily. "You have your horse and what now? He's yours, you know, and you'll have to control him." Matiah ducked behind the King as Chalk thundered past, covering them both with dust and sand. "If you ask me, you simply wasted a wish. Why, you might have wished yourself a ton of emeralds—or a Kingdom ten times as large and prosperous as Skampavia—or—"
"But there's plenty of time for that," sputtered Skamperoo, holding desperately to the bench, "since you are a magician you can grant all of my wishes."
"Oh, no, NO indeed!" Matiah spoke hastily, remembering the way the emeralds had failed to grant his wish. "I can grant only one wish a week," he explained breathlessly, "and I trust next time you will think before you wish. Whoa, there, you Ozian brute! You silly monster. Stop that! Whoa! Ho! Whoa, I tell you!"