15. Old Friends are Reunited

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      Many servants dressed in handsome uniforms stood ready to welcome the new arrivals, and when the Wizard got out of the buggy a pretty girl in a green gown cried out in surprise:

      “Why, it’s Oz, the Wonderful Wizard, come back again!”

      The little man looked at her closely and then took both the maiden’s hands in his and shook them cordially.

      “On my word,” he exclaimed, “it’s little Jellia Jamb—as pert and pretty as ever!”

      “Why not, Mr. Wizard?” asked Jellia, bowing low. “But I’m afraid you cannot rule the Emerald City, as you used to, because we now have a beautiful Princess whom everyone loves dearly.”

      “And the people will not willingly part with her,” added a tall soldier in a Captain-General’s uniform.

      The Wizard turned to look at him.

      “Did you not wear green whiskers at one time?” he asked.

      “Yes,” said the soldier; “but I shaved them off long ago, and since then I have risen from a private to be the Chief General of the Royal Armies.”

      “That’s nice,” said the little man. “But I assure you, my good people, that I do not wish to rule the Emerald City,” he added, earnestly.

      “In that case you are very welcome!” cried all the servants, and it pleased the Wizard to note the respect with which the royal retainers bowed before him. His fame had not been forgotten in the Land of Oz, by any means.

      “Where is Dorothy?” enquired Zeb, anxiously, as he left the buggy and stood beside his friend the little Wizard.

      “She is with the Princess Ozma, in the private rooms of the palace,” replied Jellia Jamb. “But she has ordered me to make you welcome and to show you to your apartments.”

      The boy looked around him with wondering eyes. Such magnificence and wealth as was displayed in this palace was more than he had ever dreamed of, and he could scarcely believe that all the gorgeous glitter was real and not tinsel.

      “What’s to become of me?” asked the horse, uneasily. He had seen considerable of life in the cities in his younger days, and knew that this regal palace was no place for him.

      It perplexed even Jellia Jamb, for a time, to know what to do with the animal. The green maiden was much astonished at the sight of so unusual a creature, for horses were unknown in this Land; but those who lived in the Emerald City were apt to be astonished by queer sights, so after inspecting the cab-horse and noting the mild look in his big eyes the girl decided not to be afraid of him.

      “There are no stables here,” said the Wizard, “unless some have been built since I went away.”

      “We have never needed them before,” answered Jellia; “for the Sawhorse lives in a room of the palace, being much smaller and more natural in appearance than this great beast you have brought with you.”

      “Do you mean that I’m a freak?” asked Jim, angrily.

      “Oh, no,” she hastened to say, “there may be many more like you in the place you came from, but in Oz any horse but a Sawhorse is unusual.”

      This mollified Jim a little, and after some thought the green maiden decided to give the cab-horse a room in the palace, such a big building having many rooms that were seldom in use.

      So Zeb unharnessed Jim, and several of the servants then led the horse around to the rear, where they selected a nice large apartment that he could have all to himself.

      Then Jellia said to the Wizard:

      “Your own room—which was back of the great Throne Room—has been vacant ever since you left us. Would you like it again?”

      “Yes, indeed!” returned the little man. “It will seem like being at home again, for I lived in that room for many, many years.”

      He knew the way to it, and a servant followed him, carrying his satchel. Zeb was also escorted to a room—so grand and beautiful that he almost feared to sit in the chairs or lie upon the bed, lest he might dim their splendor. In the closets he discovered many fancy costumes of rich velvets and brocades, and one of the attendants told him to dress himself in any of the clothes that pleased him and to be prepared to dine with the Princess and Dorothy in an hour’s time.

      Opening from the chamber was a fine bathroom having a marble tub with perfumed water; so the boy, still dazed by the novelty of his surroundings, indulged in a good bath and then selected a maroon velvet costume with silver buttons to replace his own soiled and much worn clothing. There were silk stockings and soft leather slippers with diamond buckles to accompany his new costume, and when he was fully dressed Zeb looked much more dignified and imposing than ever before in his life.

      He was all ready when an attendant came to escort him to the presence of the Princess; he followed bashfully and was ushered into a room more dainty and attractive than it was splendid. Here he found Dorothy seated beside a young girl so marvelously beautiful that the boy stopped suddenly with a gasp of admiration.

      But Dorothy sprang up and ran to seize her friend’s hand drawing him impulsively toward the lovely Princess, who smiled most graciously upon her guest. Then the Wizard entered, and his presence relieved the boy’s embarrassment. The little man was clothed in black velvet, with many sparkling emerald ornaments decorating his breast; but his bald head and wrinkled features made him appear more amusing than impressive.

      Ozma had been quite curious to meet the famous man who had built the Emerald City and united the Munchkins, Gillikins, Quadlings and Winkies into one people; so when they were all four seated at the dinner table the Princess said:

      “Please tell me, Mr. Wizard, whether you called yourself Oz after this great country, or whether you believe my country is called Oz after you. It is a matter that I have long wished to enquire about, because you are of a strange race and my own name is Ozma. No, one, I am sure, is better able to explain this mystery than you.”

      “That is true,” answered the little Wizard; “therefore it will give me pleasure to explain my connection with your country. In the first place, I must tell you that I was born in Omaha, and my father, who was a politician, named me Oscar Zoroaster Phadrig Isaac Norman Henkle Emmannuel Ambroise Diggs, Diggs being the last name because he could think of no more to go before it. Taken altogether, it was a dreadfully long name to weigh down a poor innocent child, and one of the hardest lessons I ever learned was to remember my own name. When I grew up I just called myself O. Z., because the other initials were P-I-N-H-E-A-D; and that spelled ‘pinhead,’ which was a reflection on my intelligence.”

      “Surely no one could blame you for