L. Frank Baum (4 page)

"Oh," said the fussy old lady, "I see." Then she added: "I'll bid
fourteen dollars."

"Fourteen thousand dollars!" cried a sour-looking woman who was thin
and tall and had wrinkles all over her skin—"like a frosted apple,"
the king thought.

The bidding now became fast and furious, and the poverty-stricken
courtiers brightened up as the sum began to mount into the millions.

"He'll bring us a very pretty fortune, after all," whispered one to
his comrade, "and then we shall have the pleasure of helping him
spend it."

The king began to be anxious. All the women who looked at all
kind-hearted or pleasant had stopped bidding for lack of money, and
the slender old dame with the wrinkles seemed determined to get the
coronet at any price, and with it the boy husband. This ancient
creature finally became so excited that her wig got crosswise of her
head and her false teeth kept slipping out, which horrified the
little king greatly; but she would not give up.

At last the chief counselor ended the auction by crying out:

"Sold to Mary Ann Brodjinsky de la Porkus for three million, nine
hundred thousand, six hundred and twenty-four dollars and sixteen
cents!" And the sour-looking old woman paid the money in cash and on
the spot, which proves this is a fairy story.

The king was so disturbed at the thought that he must marry this
hideous creature that he began to wail and weep; whereupon the woman
boxed his ears soundly. But the counselor reproved her for punishing
her future husband in public, saying:

"You are not married yet. Wait until to-morrow, after the wedding
takes place. Then you can abuse him as much as you wish. But at
present we prefer to have people think this is a love match."

The poor king slept but little that night, so filled was he with
terror of his future wife. Nor could he get the idea out of his head
that he preferred to marry the armorer's daughter, who was about his
own age. He tossed and tumbled around upon his hard bed until the
moonlight came in at the window and lay like a great white sheet
upon the bare floor. Finally, in turning over for the hundredth
time, his hand struck against a secret spring in the headboard of
the big mahogany bedstead, and at once, with a sharp click, a panel
flew open.

The noise caused the king to look up, and, seeing the open panel, he
stood upon tiptoe, and, reaching within, drew out a folded paper. It
had several leaves fastened together like a book, and upon the first
page was written:

"When the king is in trouble
This leaf he must double
And set it on fire
To obtain his desire."

This was not very good poetry, but when the king had spelled it out
in the moonlight he was filled with joy.

"There's no doubt about my being in trouble," he exclaimed; "so I'll
burn it at once, and see what happens."

He tore off the leaf and put the rest of the book in its secret
hiding place. Then, folding the paper double, he placed it on the
top of his stool, lighted a match and set fire to it.

It made a horrid smudge for so small a paper, and the king sat on
the edge of the bed and watched it eagerly.

When the smoke cleared away he was surprised to see, sitting upon
the stool, a round little man, who, with folded arms and crossed
legs, sat calmly facing the king and smoking a black briarwood pipe.

"Well, here I am," said he.

"So I see," replied the little king. "But how did you get here?"

"Didn't you burn the paper?" demanded the round man, by way of
answer.

"Yes, I did," acknowledged the king.

"Then you are in trouble, and I've come to help you out of it. I'm
the Slave of the Royal Bedstead."

"Oh!" said the king. "I didn't know there was one."

"Neither did your father, or he would not have been so foolish as to
sell everything he had for money. By the way, it's lucky for you he
did not sell this bedstead. Now, then, what do you want?"

"I'm not sure what I want," replied the king; "but I know what I
don't want, and that is the old woman who is going to marry me."

"That's easy enough," said the Slave of the Royal Bedstead. "All you
need do is to return her the money she paid the chief counselor and
declare the match off. Don't be afraid. You are the king, and your
word is law."

"To be sure," said the majesty. "But I am in great need of money.
How am I going to live if the chief counselor returns to Mary Ann
Brodjinski her millions?"

"Phoo! that's easy enough," again answered the man, and, putting his
hand in his pocket, he drew out and tossed to the king an
old-fashioned leather purse. "Keep that with you," said he, "and you
will always be rich, for you can take out of the purse as many
twenty-five-cent silver pieces as you wish, one at a time. No matter
how often you take one out, another will instantly appear in its
place within the purse."

"Thank you," said the king, gratefully. "You have rendered me a rare
favor; for now I shall have money for all my needs and will not be
obliged to marry anyone. Thank you a thousand times!"

"Don't mention it," answered the other, puffing his pipe slowly and
watching the smoke curl into the moonlight. "Such things are easy to
me. Is that all you want?"

"All I can think of just now," returned the king.

"Then, please close that secret panel in the bedstead," said the
man; "the other leaves of the book may be of use to you some time."

The boy stood upon the bed as before and, reaching up, closed the
opening so that no one else could discover it. Then he turned to
face his visitor, but the Slave of the Royal Bedstead had
disappeared.

"I expected that," said his majesty; "yet I am sorry he did not wait
to say good-by."

With a lightened heart and a sense of great relief the boy king
placed the leathern purse underneath his pillow, and climbing into
bed again slept soundly until morning.

When the sun rose his majesty rose also, refreshed and comforted,
and the first thing he did was to send for the chief counselor.

That mighty personage arrived looking glum and unhappy, but the boy
was too full of his own good fortune to notice it. Said he:

"I have decided not to marry anyone, for I have just come into a
fortune of my own. Therefore I command you return to that old woman
the money she has paid you for the right to wear the coronet of the
queen of Quok. And make public declaration that the wedding will not
take place."

Hearing this the counselor began to tremble, for he saw the young
king had decided to reign in earnest; and he looked so guilty that
his majesty inquired:

"Well! what is the matter now?"

"Sire," replied the wretch, in a shaking voice, "I cannot return the
woman her money, for I have lost it!"

"Lost it!" cried the king, in mingled astonishment and anger.

"Even so, your majesty. On my way home from the auction last night I
stopped at the drug store to get some potash lozenges for my throat,
which was dry and hoarse with so much loud talking; and your majesty
will admit it was through my efforts the woman was induced to pay so
great a price. Well, going into the drug store I carelessly left the
package of money lying on the seat of my carriage, and when I came
out again it was gone. Nor was the thief anywhere to be seen."

"Did you call the police?" asked the king.

"Yes, I called; but they were all on the next block, and although
they have promised to search for the robber I have little hope they
will ever find him."

The king sighed.

"What shall we do now?" he asked.

"I fear you must marry Mary Ann Brodjinski," answered the chief
counselor; "unless, indeed, you order the executioner to cut her
head off."

"That would be wrong," declared the king. "The woman must not be
harmed. And it is just that we return her money, for I will not
marry her under any circumstances."

"Is that private fortune you mentioned large enough to repay her?"
asked the counselor.

"Why, yes," said the king, thoughtfully, "but it will take some time
to do it, and that shall be your task. Call the woman here."

The counselor went in search of Mary Ann, who, when she heard she
was not to become a queen, but would receive her money back, flew
into a violent passion and boxed the chief counselor's ears so
viciously that they stung for nearly an hour. But she followed him
into the king's audience chamber, where she demanded her money in a
loud voice, claiming as well the interest due upon it over night.

"The counselor has lost your money," said the boy king, "but he
shall pay you every penny out of my own private purse. I fear,
however, you will be obliged to take it in small change."

"That will not matter," she said, scowling upon the counselor as if
she longed to reach his ears again; "I don't care how small the
change is so long as I get every penny that belongs to me, and the
interest. Where is it?"

"Here," answered the king, handing the counselor the leathern purse.
"It is all in silver quarters, and they must be taken from the purse
one at a time; but there will be plenty to pay your demands, and to
spare."

So, there being no chairs, the counselor sat down upon the floor in
one corner and began counting out silver twenty-five-cent pieces
from the purse, one by one. And the old woman sat upon the floor
opposite him and took each piece of money from his hand.

It was a large sum: three million, nine hundred thousand, six
hundred and twenty-four dollars and sixteen cents. And it takes four
times as many twenty-five-cent pieces as it would dollars to make up
the amount.

The king left them sitting there and went to school, and often
thereafter he came to the counselor and interrupted him long enough
to get from the purse what money he needed to reign in a proper and
dignified manner. This somewhat delayed the counting, but as it was
a long job, anyway, that did not matter much.

The king grew to manhood and married the pretty daughter of the
armorer, and they now have two lovely children of their own. Once in
awhile they go into the big audience chamber of the palace and let
the little ones watch the aged, hoary-headed counselor count out
silver twenty-five-cent pieces to a withered old woman, who watched
his every movement to see that he does not cheat her.

It is a big sum, three million, nine hundred thousand, six hundred
and twenty-four dollars and sixteen cents in twenty-five-cent
pieces.

But this is how the counselor was punished for being so careless
with the woman's money. And this is how Mary Ann Brodjinski de la
Porkus was also punished for wishing to marry a ten-year-old king in
order that she might wear the coronet of the queen of Quok.

Mamma had gone down-town to shop. She had asked Nora to look after
Jane Gladys, and Nora promised she would. But it was her afternoon
for polishing the silver, so she stayed in the pantry and left Jane
Gladys to amuse herself alone in the big sitting-room upstairs.

The little girl did not mind being alone, for she was working on her
first piece of embroidery—a sofa pillow for papa's birthday
present. So she crept into the big bay window and curled herself up
on the broad sill while she bent her brown head over her work.

Soon the door opened and closed again, quietly. Jane Gladys thought
it was Nora, so she didn't look up until she had taken a couple more
stitches on a forget-me-not. Then she raised her eyes and was
astonished to find a strange man in the middle of the room, who
regarded her earnestly.

He was short and fat, and seemed to be breathing heavily from his
climb up the stairs. He held a work silk hat in one hand and
underneath his other elbow was tucked a good-sized book. He was
dressed in a black suit that looked old and rather shabby, and his
head was bald upon the top.

"Excuse me," he said, while the child gazed at him in solemn
surprise. "Are you Jane Gladys Brown?"

"Yes, sir," she answered.

"Very good; very good, indeed!" he remarked, with a queer sort of
smile. "I've had quite a hunt to find you, but I've succeeded at
last."

"How did you get in?" inquired Jane Gladys, with a growing distrust
of her visitor.

"That is a secret," he said, mysteriously.

This was enough to put the girl on her guard. She looked at the man
and the man looked at her, and both looks were grave and somewhat
anxious.

"What do you want?" she asked, straightening herself up with a
dignified air.

"Ah!—now we are coming to business," said the man, briskly. "I'm
going to be quite frank with you. To begin with, your father has
abused me in a most ungentlemanly manner."

Jane Gladys got off the window sill and pointed her small finger at
the door.

"Leave this room 'meejitly!" she cried, her voice trembling with
indignation. "My papa is the best man in the world. He never 'bused
anybody!"

"Allow me to explain, please," said the visitor, without paying any
attention to her request to go away. "Your father may be very kind
to you, for you are his little girl, you know. But when he's
down-town in his office he's inclined to be rather severe,
especially on book agents. Now, I called on him the other day and
asked him to buy the 'Complete Works of Peter Smith,' and what do
you suppose he did?"

She said nothing.

"Why," continued the man, with growing excitement, "he ordered me
from his office, and had me put out of the building by the janitor!
What do you think of such treatment as that from the 'best papa in
the world,' eh?"

"I think he was quite right," said Jane Gladys.

"Oh, you do? Well," said the man, "I resolved to be revenged for the
insult. So, as your father is big and strong and a dangerous man, I
have decided to be revenged upon his little girl."