The Magic Pudding
"Snip," wheezed Pajuka mournfully, "when I am cooked and eaten, will you save a few of my feathers for Ozma? And if you find the King will you tell him that old Pajuka was faithful to—to—the last?"
In spite of himself the poor goose's voice broke and ended in a great gulp.
"When they get through with me there'll be just enough feathers left to stuff a pillow," choked Pajuka.
"Don't!" begged the little button boy, flinging his arms around his friend's neck. "Besides, if I'm to be chased and scratched by all those cats, there won't be anything left of me at all."
"I'll nip off their tails, I'll snatch out their whiskers!" raged Pajuka, thrusting his bill through the bars of their prison. The two had been thrown unceremoniously into a small summer house at the end of the Queen's garden. It was surrounded by cat guards, so their chances for escape were cut off on every side.
"Maybe something'll happen," sighed Snip, pressing his nose against the slats. It had been late afternoon when they reached Catty Corners and in the gathering gloom the giant cats, parading up and down, looked like some dreadful sort of goblins. Turning back to Pajuka for comfort, Snip was horrified to see that the goose had drawn up one foot and closed his eyes.
"Don't fall asleep, Pajuka," begged the little boy, shaking him frantically. "Don't fall asleep and leave me all alone."
"Can't help it Snip—hah hoh! This is what comes of being a goose—hum!" yawned the poor prime minister. He blinked rapidly, stamped both feet and fluttered his feathers, but it was no use. His eyes simply would not stay open.
"Well, if I'm to be eaten," gulped Pajuka sadly, with a last monstrous yawn, "I might as well be asleep anyway." Folding his head away dejectedly under his wing, he stood perfectly still. At this Snip felt so down-hearted that he sat on the floor and took the goose in his lap.
"Wonder what Mombi's doing," he shuddered, trying to catch a glimpse of the old witch through the chinks in the lattice. To tell the truth, Mombi was in as tight a catty corner as Snip. Having indulged her fondness for cats to the fullest extent and, noting with alarm the approach of night, she had finally risen and bidding the Catty Queen an affectionate farewell, declared herself ready to depart. "And the goose and boy must come with me," croaked Mombi, grinning secretly at the joke she had played on them.
"With you," cried the Cat Queen, springing up in alarm. "Why, you dear, ugly old darling, do you suppose I am ever going to let you go? Never! As for the boy—who cares for boys? He shall entertain us all day to-morrow. I'll call out my grand army of Maltesers, and they shall maul and tease him to death. What fun. And the goose! I could hug you for bringing that goose."
"But see here," panted Mombi in alarm, "I need that goose. I'm taking him as a present to Ozma, the Queen."
"Well, I'm a Queen," sniffed the Cat crossly, "and I don't give a yowl for Ozma. Come on, let's pluck out his feathers." And away across the garden scampered her Majesty. Mombi picked up her basket and followed in great haste. She knew that without Pajuka she would never recognize the King, nor regain her magic powers. Therefore, though she had no great love for the goose, she must find some way to save him.
"Wait!" puffed the old witch, catching up with the Queen. "Wait! I, myself, will prepare a feast to go with the goose. I am a famous cook and know more about roasts and sauces than anyone in Oz." Mombi rolled her eyes boastfully.
"Do you?" murmured the Imperial Pussy, stopping short and looking admiringly at the old witch.
"Did your Highness ever taste rice cream pudding?" inquired Mombi mysteriously. "No goose should be eaten without a dish of pudding before-hand. Keeps off the mullygrubs. Just let me make you a delicious little rice cream pudding!"
"Rice cream pudding? Why that sounds delicious!" purred the Queen, waving her tail rapturously. "Make enough for us all, dear old ugliness, and I'll take a cat nap while you do."
"Where's the kitchen?" demanded Mombi with a wicked grin. Already she had thought of a way out of her difficulties. Once in the catty kitchen, really only an enclosed corner of the garden with a stone fireplace and iron crane, Mombi set quickly to work. Filling the largest cauldron with rich cream from the fountain, she poured in all the boxes of rice she had in her basket and all the raisins. Then, setting it over the fire, which two tortoise shell cats kept at blazing point, she stirred and muttered and muttered and stirred, and just before it was done dropped in the contents of another of her purple cans.
Meanwhile, news of the coming treat had spread, and by the time the pudding was finished, the fences were simply crowded with cats, their eyes showing like green balls of fire in the darkness. There were only a few dim lanterns in Catty Corners, for cats can see quite as well by night as by day. Each cat had brought a saucer, and forming in an orderly procession, they lined up before the old witch, while Mombi ladled out helping after helping of the pudding, pausing every now and then to wipe her forehead on her sleeve and grin wickedly to herself.
None of the cats dared eat until the Queen arrived, and when her Highness finally did appear, a long sigh of anticipation went up from the fences. Mombi had saved a particularly large helping for the Queen, and when her Maltese Majesty lowered her chin over her saucer and all the other cats started lapping up the pudding, Mombi could hardly restrain her chuckles. The pudding really was delicious and the Queen lapped faster and faster, as did the rest, so that in scarcely a moment the saucers were quite empty and the company quite the reverse.
With half-closed eyes the Queen lifted her head to thank Mombi but before she could purr a purr, she, and that whole collection of cats, simply catapulted into the air and, while Mombi held her sides and rocked to and fro with malicious merriment, they rolled and tumbled toward the clouds like balloons released from their strings. No wonder! In that purple can was a baking powder powerful enough to raise an army—baking powder that the old witch had been collecting and refining for twenty years.
"Hah," snorted Mombi, rubbing her hands with satisfaction. Leaning over the fountain, she took a long drink of cream, for stirring the pudding had made her mighty thirsty. Then, without thought of her luckless victims, she picked up her basket and hobbled off to the summer house. Snip, after waiting in terror for the cats to come for Pajuka, had finally dropped into an uneasy slumber, and when Mombi flashed a small lantern in his eyes he almost jumped out of his jacket.
"Come along, you little lazy bones," grumbled the witch, jerking him roughly by the sleeve. "Is that silly old goose asleep too?"
"I'll carry him," said Snip stiffly and, bending over, he picked Pajuka carefully up in his arms. He was quite an armful, but never stirred nor wakened at all. Snip longed to tell Mombi what he thought of her, but she looked so fierce he decided not to try it.
"Where are the cats?" he shivered, tiptoeing nervously after the old witch. Mombi waved her stick aloft, and you can imagine the astonishment of the little boy to see a perfect cloud of cats sailing across the moon.
"Gave 'em rice pudding and they riz," wheezed the old witch gleefully. Having no one else to boast to, Mombi condescended to explain her trick to Snip. Snip, on his part, was glad to escape from the catty creatures, but he could not help feeling a bit sorry for them.
"How long will they have to stay up there?" he inquired curiously.
"Till it rains," grunted Mombi, swinging the lantern carelessly. "But come on, I can't stand here talking all night. We'll never reach the Emerald City at this rate."
"Anyway," thought Snip, stepping along carefully so as not to wake Pajuka, "anyway they can eat their supper in the milky way and won't it be raining cats when they do come down though!"
While Mombi stopped to straighten her hat, Snip took a long drink from one of the cream fountains. "Nobody knows when we'll get anything to eat," said the little button boy to himself.
"Are we going to travel all night?" he puffed, running to catch up with Mombi.
"Mind your own buttons," hissed the old witch, lapsing into her usual ill-temper, and as she refused to say another word, there was nothing to do but follow the uncertain flicker of her lantern. After an hour of zig-zagging along the fences, they reached the other side, unbolted the great iron doors in the wall and found themselves in another forest.
Snip thought surely Mombi would stop, but the old witch went muttering and mumbling along, her eyes gleaming like hot coals in the darkness. Every once in a while, she would glance sideways at Snip in a way that caused him great uneasiness. To tell the truth, Mombi had about decided to rid herself of the little button boy. He knew too much and might run off and tell Ozma her plans before she could reach the Emerald City, herself. With Pajuka's help, Mombi meant to find the old King, if she could, but when he had restored her magic powers Mombi intended to be the real ruler of Oz. So, hurrying along through the inky forest, she began casting about in her mind for a way to destroy Snip.
"I'll wait till I reach the center of the forest," hissed Mombi, stumping along under the silent trees, "and then—"
"What did you say?" asked Snip anxiously.
"Nothing," grunted Mombi, smiling sourly to herself, "at least nothing that concerns you."
