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her own father, King Pastoria of sainted memory, and was
determined to acquire it if at all possible. The three pleaded
prettily with Mayor Carom who was only too delighted to
fall in with his guests wishes.
The old Springer behind the counter cast a frightened look
at the strange springless creatures who had entered his shop
§ See The Royal Book of Oz. Editor s note.
67
THE CLOUD KING OF OZ
but the familiar presence of the Mayor reassured him. Yes,
indeed, he confirmed when asked: nothing in the shop less
than a hundred years old. This obviously went for himself
as well and as we know Mayor C. was an exact ninety nine.
Ozma soon had possession of her dad s picture and the
Scarecrow had picked up for a song ( It Might as Well Be
Spring ) several hoary old trees, roots and all. Dorothy
couldn t decide what to take. But now of course the party did
have something to put in a valise, so her gaze strayed to ven-
erable portmanteaux and frayed and stained carpetbags. In
the end her choice rested between a cracked but so quaint
hatbox and a small weatherbeaten steamer trunk.
The hatbox, I think, dearest, opined her royal chum.
Considerations of space, you know.
That s just it, Ozma, returned the other girl. The hatbox
is just a wee bit too small to contain the one basket we have
left. I want something that will go in, so we still just have one
piece to carry.
I see what you mean, admitted the other. But I don t
really know how we can manage with a whole trunk.
Nevertheless Dorothy wanted to consider further. Some-
thing about the trunk appealed to her strangely. At least she
could have it out and opened and see what it was like inside.
But among the high-piled aisles of the narrow shop there was
scarcely room to open the receptacle and still have room
around for people to stand and peer in.
Shopkeeper and mayor lifted the trunk out to the back
court. Daylight was better there too. They all gathered round.
A key dangled from one of the trunk s lock-catches. The anti-
quarian slipped it in the hole indicated. There was a strenu-
ous effort at twisting. No luck.
It was the scene from the door to Doorknob Mountain all
over again. But here there were no handy pecans or walnuts
for squeezing. As it happened, little Coily, not to be done out
of intercourse with his admired foreigners, had found out
where the party had gone and tagged along. Here was a source
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THE CLOUD KING OF OZ
of grease! The shopman rubbed the key among the boy s coily
locks.
And now, see there! The trunk lid fell back with a groan
and a creak, and out of the interior shot a folding ladder, spi-
raled quickly upward, and vanished among the clouds be-
fore you could say Jumpin Jimminy!
Oh, Ozma! squealed Dorothy at the top of her voice,
it s a spiraling staircase!
Well, staircase , put in Scarekers, the linguistic purist.
Ladder and stairs are not quite the same thing. If they
were we wouldn t need two words.
Never mind, children, soothed Ozma. We have two
strikes out of three: it s certainly spiraling and vanishable
both past and present. Tell me, sir, the girl ruler went on,
addressing the shopkeeper: had you never occasion to open
this trunk before?
No, ma am. I only got it in last month. Just hadn t got
around to it. But you can see it s more than a century old: it s
precisely the type of steamer trunk the American President
Polk had with him on his voyage from Washington to New
Orleans when he left the White House in 1849...
This led of course to an interesting discussion of one of
the most able of American chief executives and his tragedy:
dying of cholera at age fifty-three only three months after leav-
ing the office in which he had served so capably, and missing
greatness because he refused to serve for more than one term.
In America only presidents are considered great if they have
done duty for at least part of two terms or more, which stric-
ture allows Grant, Coolidge, and Nixon into the highest pan-
theon.
But meanwhile the spiral ladder wavered in the air and
gave no sign of falling down. Do you suppose this could be
it? wondered Ozma and tapped a foot.
Oh, I m sure of it, breathed Dorothy excitedly, and
the Scarecrow said he d give his vote for its being the correct
staircase .
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THE CLOUD KING OF OZ
Ozma counted on her fingers. Gosh, only one more day
to reach the Cloud King. We d better at least give this appa-
ratus a try as being the one intended. It fulfills some of the
stipulations at least. Here she checked again with the lac-
quer-lettered agenda, which she had taken to carrying in the
pocket of her jump suit. Spiraling : check. Vanishing
She lifted her eyes high up to some cirrus clouds where the
ladder certainly disappeared. Appearing once every hun-
dred years . At least it came out of a container where it could
have been since a century ago. Very well: I m game, declared
the little ruler courageously.
70
THE CLOUD KING OF OZ
c h a p t e r t w e l v e
The climbers stopped when they had reached the thirtieth
rung or thereabouts and took time to pull out their
handkerchiefs and wave to Mayor Carom, the antiquities dealer,
and ointment-headed Coily standing in the courtyard of the
curiosity shop. It was an opportunity also for Dorothy to hook
securely over her shoulder the remaining basket, into which the
travelers had crammed Pastoria s portrait and the family trees.
There was room, for their food supply was gravely diminished.
We ll just have to subsist on cloudberries for a while, Ozma
had said.
At the hundredth rung their Springer friends, greatly dimin-
ished, were scarcely visible and by the five-hundredth rung not
at all. But now there were fabulous vistas out over Springer Town
and all the Oz country round. From this viewpoint they could
see what a funny tall narrow peak Doorknob Mountain really
was. Everything was blue-violet and the travelers realized that
the mountain probably marked the boundary in that region
between the Munchkin and the Gillikin countries.
Then on and upward again. The Scarecrow was bringing up
the rear, when near the thousandth rung he happened to glance
down. Yikes! he shrieked. Look there!
The girls got a firm purchase, then inclined their heads. Dear,
oh dear, gasped the little queen. Vanishing is right. I didn t
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