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The friends of Dorothy and Ozma who live in and around the Emerald City love nothing more than a good party. They will plan one for any reason, or for no reason at all. So when Dorothy realized it had been a hundred years since Betsy Bobbin came to live in Oz, she just had to find a way to mark the occasion.
“I want to do something really different,” Dorothy told Ozma as they strolled arm in arm through the Palace gardens one evening, “something we’ve never done before. At first I thought it should be a s’prise party, but I’m having trouble coming up with a new idea. Now I’m thinking of asking Betsy what she’d like to do.”
“I think that’s a very sensible plan, dear,” Ozma replied. “Why don’t you go and ask her right now? I’m sure she’s still up; it’s only eight o’clock.”
Dorothy hated to miss her nightly “together time” with Ozma, but she was too excited to let that stop her. She kissed Ozma goodnight and fairly ran to the Palace apartments.
* * *
“Betsy, I need your help,” Dorothy said when her friend had let her in. “You’ve been here in Oz for a hundred years, and I think we ought to have a party. But I want it to be really special – different from any that we’ve had. I wanted to s’prise you, but now I think you should get to choose the kind of party you want, ’cause I’m all out of ideas.”
“Hmm…” Betsy hmmed, trying to think. “That’s really sweet of you, Dorothy, but I don’t have any ideas either – at least not off the top of my head. I’ll keep thinking about it, though.”
Dorothy would not be put off. “Think back to when you lived in Oklahoma,” she urged. “Was there anything you ’specially liked doing – something you haven’t done since you came here?”
Betsy’s eyes appeared to unfocus, as if she were seeing something far away. “You know, there is something like that, Dorothy,” she said. “When I was little, my parents used to take me to barn dances. I loved the colored lights and the lively music, and once in a while they used to let me dance, though I was hardly big enough to reach the grownups’ hands. I’d love to experience something like that again – and share it with all my friends here.”
Dorothy brightened. “That’s a wonderful idea, Betsy!” she said, relieved. “How should we go about making it happen?”
“It’ll take a lot of doing,” said Betsy after thinking for a moment. “Decorations are easy – we can make the ballroom look like the inside of a barn, and string up some Japanese lanterns in all different colors. But we’ll need the right kind of music. And we’ll need a caller – someone who shouts out directions to the dancers, in time with the music. And I’m sure no one in Oz has ever heard of a barn dance, much less been to one – except the few who came from America, and maybe not even all of them. So the caller will have to explain the dances too.”
“That sounds like a tall order,” said Dorothy. “I don’t know anything about calling, or the right kind of music. I grew up in the middle of nowhere, and I never went to any kind of dance in Kansas. Tell you what – let’s ask all our American friends and family how much they know about barn dances. If each person knows a little, maybe we can put our knowledge together and make it happen after all.”
“One thing’s for sure,” Betsy giggled. “This is something we know more about than Professor Wogglebug.”
“You’re right!” laughed Dorothy. They agreed to begin polling their friends in the morning; Dorothy hugged Betsy and went to her own bedroom.
* * *
In the morning, the girls started by knocking on Trot’s door and asking the little Californian if she knew anything that would help them.
“Not really,” Trot answered. “We didn’t have barn dances in my town when I lived there. But Cap’n Bill plays the concertina – maybe he can help you with the music.”
“That would be wonderful,” Dorothy said. “I do wish I had a better idea of what a barn dance looks and sounds like.”
“Why don’t you ask the Magic Picture to show you one?” asked Trot.
“That’s a great idea,” said Dorothy. “Why didn’t I think of that?”
With Betsy and Trot at her heels, Dorothy ran up the stairs and into Ozma’s sitting room, where the Magic Picture was kept. The room was part of the Queen’s private suite, but Dorothy, as Ozma’s chosen companion, was privileged to enter the royal apartment at any time. As she knew Ozma was busy that morning with matters of State, Dorothy felt it would be all right for the other girls to join her.
Dorothy drew open the curtains that hid the Magic Picture in its ornate frame. “Show me the nearest barn dance,” she told it.
The Picture faded from its normal landscape to a swirl of variegated colors, and then faded to solid black.
“Show me a barn dance anywhere,” said Dorothy, puzzled and a little annoyed. Again the Picture came alive with color, but within seconds it returned to black.
“I don’t understand,” Dorothy said, scratching her head. “I’ve asked the Picture to show me people in America lots of times, and it always worked.”
“I know!” Betsy tugged at Dorothy’s sleeve. “It’s Tuesday morning. A barn dance is a party, and people in America don’t have parties every day. Barn dances are mostly on Saturday night, sometimes on Friday. But never on Tuesday morning!”
“Of course!” Dorothy smacked her own forehead. “Even though I’ve never been near a barn dance, I should have figured that out. We’ll just have to wait until the weekend. In the meantime we can keep asking our friends and family for help. Betsy, why don’t you ask the Shaggy Man? Trot, can you talk to Cap’n Bill, and maybe Button-Bright? I’ll go see Aunt Em and Uncle Henry.”
* * *
A pleasant half-hour walk brought Dorothy to the neat little farmhouse where her aunt and uncle lived. Ozma had given them a spacious apartment in the Palace, but they had been uncomfortable in the city and had shyly told the Queen they preferred country life.
When Dorothy had explained her plan and her need for assistance, Aunt Em burst out, “Great heavens, child! I hadn’t thought of it in years, but your Uncle Henry and I used to play for dances before you were born. Henry played the fiddle and I picked a mean banjo, if I say so myself.”
“That sounds perfect!” cried Dorothy. “How come you never told me you played?”
“You never asked,” said Uncle Henry. “And when the drought came and we fell on hard times, we were too busy scratching out a living from that pint-sized farm to think about amusing ourselves.”
“I don’t s'pose you have a fiddle or a banjo here,” Dorothy said doubtfully.
“We surely don’t,” said Aunt Em. “But this being a fairy country, and some of its people being skilled in every trade you could imagine, ’twouldn’t surprise me if we could get our hands on some mighty likely instruments.”
“Well, the Palace orchestra certainly has violins,” Dorothy mused. “What’s the difference between a violin and a fiddle, Uncle Henry?”
“No difference at all, ’cept the nut that holds it,” chuckled the old man.
“Well, I know I can get you a violin,” said Dorothy. “But I don’t know about a banjo, Aunt Em. I think I’ll ask the Wizard what he thinks is the best way to get one.”
“Don’t get your hopes up, Dorothy dear,” Aunt Em cautioned. “Henry and I haven’t played a note in a hundred years.”
“I’ll bet the Wizard has an answer for that too, Aunt Em.”
* * *
“I think this is a wonderful idea,” the Wizard said to Dorothy. “I think we can refresh your aunt’s and uncle’s memory when it comes to making music. And don’t worry about finding a banjo. I’ll ask around the Palace, and use a bit of magic if I have to. I’ll have to talk to Aunt Em first, though – I remember there were several kinds of banjo in America, and I want to make sure I get her the right sort.”
“Oh, thank you, Wizard!” Dorothy found herself clasping her hands and jumping up and down like a little girl. “It’s really fun to have so many people working together to make this party happen.”
“While I’m at it,” the Wizard said, “are there any other instruments – or gadgets of any kind – that you want? I may as well work on them all at once.”
“Well, I’d like to have as many of my friends involved as I can,” Dorothy mused. “Let me ask everyone whether they’d like to dance or play music. I’ll make a list and get back to you.”
* * *
“Guess what!” Betsy flew at Dorothy and nearly collided with her. “The Shaggy Man says he used to call square dances when he lived in America!”
“Really?” Dorothy felt a burst of excitement that subsided quickly. “Wait… Shaggy has said a lot of things that turned out to be – well, not true.”
“Yes, but that was before he bathed in the Truth Pond,” Betsy pointed out. “Have you caught him in a lie since then?”
Dorothy thought for a minute. “I guess not. Oh, Betsy, this is the best news yet!” She threw her arms around Betsy, lifted her off the floor, and spun her around. Even though she was smaller than Betsy, Dorothy still had the strength she’d built up by working on the Kansas farm.
Trot came up to them, with Cap’n Bill in tow. “Good news, girls,” she said. “Cap’n Bill says he’d love to play for our dance.”
“That’s fer sure,” grinned the old sailor. “I’ve spent many evenin’s in me room, playin’ over the old jigs and hornpipes. I’d be tickled to learn some o’ them to your aunt an’ uncle, Dorothy – an’ whoever else is int’rested.”
“Thank you, Cap’n Bill – that’d be wonderful!” Dorothy said. “Trot, how about Button-Bright? Did you ask him for help?”
“Well, yes,” said her tiny friend. “I asked him if he’d ever been to a barn dance, and he said ‘Don’t know.’ I nearly smacked him. Of course he was only fooling – he hasn’t been that tongue-tied since the first journey he took with you, Dorothy. But he likes to tease people – especially me, for some reason.”
“I c’n tell you the reason,” said Cap’n Bill, grinning again. “That boy is sweet on you, Trot, though he’d be the last to admit it.”
Trot blushed. “I’m sure he would. I’ve always liked him, but I never thought about him that way.”
“Don’t see why not,” said the sailor, tilting his head and winking. “You’ve all let yerselves grow just a little since you came here – just enough so’s you know a bit o’ how a grown person feels about things, though not enough so’s you lose the joys o’ bein’ young. You just ask the lad to dance at this shindig we’re goin’ to have, and see if he don’t come ’round to a new way o’ thinkin’ – or mebbe admit to himself how he’s felt for some time now.”
Trot blushed redder than ever, and Dorothy laughed out loud. Betsy smiled quietly; she was thinking about her friend, the Munchkin boy Ojo the Lucky, and wondering if he was thinking about her.
* * *
“I’m sorry,” Aunt Em told the Wizard. “That’s a beautiful banjo you got for me, but I’ve been trying and trying, and I’ve plumb forgotten all the music I ever knew.”
“It’s the same way with me, I’m afeared,” said Uncle Henry. “I can tighten the strings and the hairs on the bow, but I can’t seem to get any music out of this fiddle, nice-lookin’ as it is. Best I can do is a noise like Eureka might make if’n you pulled her tail.”
“I’ve been thinking about what to do if that happened,” said the Wizard, “and I think I may have the answer. You know that the students at the Royal College can spend all their time on athletics, because they take their lessons in the form of pills that Professor Wogglebug and I developed. Well, one of those pills is a Memory Pill; it keeps you from forgetting things you’ve just learned. I’ve a hunch that it can bring back knowledge you’ve forgotten, too. Would you be willing to give it a try? I can assure you that even if it doesn’t work, it won’t harm you in any way.”
“Don’t see why not,” said Uncle Henry. “It sounds incredible, but to an old-timer like me, just about everything that happens in Oz seems incredible. Em and I thought Dorothy dreamed the whole place, right up till Ozma wished us here and we wound up in the middle of her Throne Room.”
The Wizard drew a small box from his coat pocket and shook four long silvery pills into his palm. “You’d best take two apiece,” he told Em and Henry. “We’re trying to bring back some long-ago memories here. Give the pills about half an hour to take effect, then try playing again. Let me know how it goes.”
* * *
As it happened, the Wizard didn’t need to ask about the results. He was still a good thirty yards down the hallway from the apartment where Em and Henry were staying for the week when the lively strains of a dance tune, played impeccably on fiddle and banjo, met his ears. It brought back misty memories of his youth in Nebraska. He quickened his pace to reach their door and knocked loudly to be heard over the music. The tune ceased abruptly.
“Come in, come in!” said Uncle Henry. “Them pills did the trick all right. I’ve played twenty tunes already, and before I took the pills I couldn’t play a one. Wagoner’s Reel, Old Bell Cow, Gray Eagle – I haven’t heard any of ’em in a hundred years, let alone played ’em.”
“It’s the honest truth,” said Aunt Em. “I even have a suspicion that Henry’s playing some tunes he didn’t know back then. He just played Oklahoma Redbird, and that’s in B-flat – the toughest key for a fiddler. I sure don’t remember his being that good.”
The Wizard beamed with satisfaction and congratulated the pair on their success.
* * *
In the days leading up to the dance, the Emerald Palace was a beehive of activity. Dorothy had tied a string around her finger, to help her remember to look in the Magic Picture when the weekend came. She and her girl friends were constructing decorations and making a list of the food and drink they wanted the Palace kitchen to provide. Cap’n Bill was holding band practices with Aunt Em, Uncle Henry, and several of their friends who lived in or near the Palace. The Shaggy Man carried a notebook and pencil everywhere he went, and would stop in the middle of a conversation, with apologies, to jot down a sudden idea. A lamp in his room burned brightly till late at night.
When Friday night arrived, Dorothy commanded the Magic Picture to show her a barn dance. She was glad to see so many people having fun in such a simple way, but after watching for a few minutes she realized she wasn’t learning much – she and her friends, sharing their bits of knowledge and letting instinct fill in the gaps, had managed to duplicate the formula. Dorothy wiggled with pleasure and anticipation of the following night.
* * *
The dress laid out on Dorothy’s bed was a dream come true. With puffed sleeves and a full skirt, it was made of blue and white gingham, just like the dress she had worn on her first adventure in Oz. The Munchkins had paid honor to her and helped her in any way they could because they thought she was a good witch, blue being the Munchkin color and white standing for benevolent magic. Dorothy put on fresh underclothes and slipped the dress over her head. It fit as if it had been made for her, as of course it had; the Palace seamstresses had had her measure since her first trip to Oz.
Ozma gave their secret knock. “Dorothy?” she called through the door. “Do you need any help getting dressed?” Dorothy opened the door and gazed at her friend in admiration. Ozma was wearing blue jeans and a purple plaid shirt, doubtless in memory of her boyhood in Gillikin Country, with a solid purple scarf tied around her neck. Her hair was gathered into two short braids with long free tails. She had forgone her scarlet poppies and pinned a single purple dahlia over her left ear, picked from the Magic Flower in her sitting room. The plant had been a birthday present many years ago from Trot and Cap’n Bill, who had braved great danger to obtain it. She evoked thoughts of the boy Tip, whom Dorothy had heard stories of, but she was still unmistakably Ozma. Ironically, the boyish outfit showed off her figure better than most of her gowns.
“I’m just about ready, Ozma,” Dorothy said. “This dress fits perfectly; the Palace seamstresses did a good job as usual. But I can’t find a blue hair ribbon to match it.”
“Don’t worry about the ribbon, dear; I have something better.” From behind her back Ozma produced a circular chain of fresh daisies and placed it gently on Dorothy’s head. “There... a crown for my Princess. I picked it from the Magic Flower and wove it myself.”
Dorothy looked in the mirror and found herself blushing as well as smiling. “It’s lovely, Ozma. Thank you.”
“It looks perfect with that dress. Now hold still, dear; I want to put a little something on your face.” Ozma worked with sponge and brush for a minute or two, then stepped back to check her work. “Look at yourself, dear, and see what you think. I don’t believe I overdid it.”
Dorothy looked in the mirror again. Sure enough, Ozma had somehow enhanced her face without hiding or distorting any of her features. Her eyes looked even wider than usual, her cheeks and lips just a little pinker.
“No, I don’t think you did, Ozma. I still look like me.”
“That was the idea,” replied the Queen. “I made sure not to hide your freckles, because they’re part of who you are – they make you special in looks, just as you’re a special person on the inside.”
* * *
Ozma escorted Dorothy to the ballroom, where Trot and Betsy awaited them. The girls wore dresses almost identical to Dorothy’s; Trot’s was pink and Betsy’s yellow. The skirts were hemmed just below the knee, as the girls were unused to walking, let alone dancing, in floor-length skirts.
“Oh, Dorothy, you look beautiful!” cried Trot. Dorothy started to blush, and Trot’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh… I didn’t mean… I think you always look nice, Dorothy, but you look ’specially nice tonight.”
“It’s all right, Trot,” Dorothy reassured her. “I know what you meant. It’s a special night, and we’re all excited about it. If we look nicer than usual, I think that’s why.”
“And look at you, Ozma,” said Betsy wonderingly. “You’re just as lovely as always, but in a different way.”
“Thank you, Betsy dear,” said the Queen. “I knew you girls would get all gussied up, as Dorothy’s Aunt Em would say, and I didn’t want to compete with you. And there’s still a bit of Tip in me; now and then I get the itch to wear pants.”
“Well, they look great on you,” said Trot. “I wonder what’s keeping the others?”
The girls walked around the room, admiring their handiwork and making sure everything was in place. The more ornate architectural features of the ballroom had been hidden behind rough posts and beams that appeared to be made of weathered wood. Bales of hay, wagon wheels, and farmers’ tools sat on the stage and leaned against the walls. Japanese lanterns in every conceivable color hung from clotheslines stretched across the hall.
Suddenly, a dozen people spilled into the room at once. Aunt Em, Uncle Henry, Cap’n Bill, the Scarecrow and Tin Woodman, Jack Pumpkinhead, Scraps the Patchwork Girl, Tik-Tok the machine man, Ojo and Button-Bright, Glinda the Good and the Wizard of Oz all came in together, laughing and talking. They admired the girls’ new outfits, then half of them made for the stage and began tuning their instruments. Tik-Tok mounted the “throne” behind a full set of drums; Jack bent precariously over his double bass; the Woodman played a few runs on the upright piano. In the front row, Uncle Henry picked up his fiddle and Aunt Em her banjo, and Cap’n Bill made himself comfortable on a wooden stool and checked the action of his concertina.
The Shaggy Man entered the room, surveyed the stage and the dance floor, and said “Looks like everybody’s here. Are you ready to start?”
“You bet, Shaggy,” said Cap’n Bill. “You call th’ tune, an’ we’ll play it.”
“All right,” the Shaggy Man announced, “we’ll start with the Virginia Reel. It’s a good first dance, because any number of couples can get in. Later, if any of you get tired, you can take turns sitting out while we do some squares.”
At Shaggy’s direction, the ten dancers paired off and formed two lines: boys and Ozma on one side, girls on the other. Shaggy quickly explained the movements, using Betsy and Ojo, who happened to be first in line, to demonstrate.
“In America,” said Shaggy, “this tune is called Turkey in the Straw. But tonight, in honor of Billina’s perilous journey here from the great outside world, we’re calling it Chicken in the Crate.”
Everyone laughed as the band struck up the tune.
The dance went smoothly, thanks to Shaggy’s clear instructions. Betsy and Ojo made it through the trickiest part – partner by the right arm, neighbor by the left, and so on down the line – as though they had been dancing for years. Glinda and the Wizard did likewise in their turn, Glinda with especial grace. Trot and Button-Bright had a little trouble; Button-Bright kept going from one neighbor to the next, rather than come back to his partner each time. But with a little good-natured pushing and teasing, they made it to the foot of the set.
Scraps and the Scarecrow were now the head couple. The girls braced themselves, knowing that Scraps never liked to follow anyone’s rules but her own.
“Head couple sashay down,” called Shaggy. The Scarecrow did as the other lead couples had, side-stepping his way down the center. But Scraps, who was supposed to be holding her partner’s hands and stepping with him, did three cartwheels instead, ending up at the right place. The girls, as one, sighed with relief, but a little too soon: on the return trip to the head of the line, Scraps faced forward and did multiple handsprings.
Dorothy could no longer contain herself. “Scraps,” she cried out, “that’s not how it goes!”
“Oh, no?” retorted the Patchwork Girl. “That’s how I go!”
And she whirled around twice at every turn, all the way down the line. Instead of sashaying up to lead the march, Scraps pushed hard against the floor with both feet and sailed up to the ballroom’s high ceiling, where she clung to a chandelier.
Dorothy buried her face in her hands. “Scraps,” she wailed, “you’re spoiling the party!”
It was perhaps fortunate that Dorothy’s voice was muffled by her hands and Scraps did not hear her words; otherwise an argument might have started that could really have spoiled the mood. But Scraps, having made her point, jumped down just in time to rejoin the Scarecrow and form an arch for the other couples to pass under.
Now it was time for Dorothy and Ozma to take the lead. Dorothy had intended them to be first in line, to help set the tone for the dance during the walk-through, but just as the set was forming she had noticed one of the decorative wooden posts about to fall. She had run to fix it, and Ozma was too polite to claim first place with her partner absent.
As Shaggy called them out, Dorothy’s heart sang. This was exactly the party she had dreamed of. Joyfully she seized Ozma’s hands and galloped down the center, her feet barely touching the floor. When it came time to “reel,” all conscious thought was submerged in a mad whirl: right arm to Ozma, left to Ojo, right to Ozma, left to the Wizard… to Button-Bright… to the Scarecrow, and finally back to the center, with Ozma’s two hands securely holding hers. Up the middle they sashayed, down the outside they marched, and again she was safe in Ozma’s hands as they made the arch.
When everyone else had passed under the arch, the dance was over. Applause broke out for Shaggy and the band. Most of the dancers headed for the tables, where an assortment of beverages had been laid out.
“Don’t get too comfortable,” Shaggy cautioned. “Why, our little party’s just beginning!”
* * *
The Wizard claimed he was too old to dance every number, and begged Glinda to allow him to sit one out. The other four couples formed a square in front of the stage.
“The two most important calls,” said Shaggy, “are ‘swing’ and ‘promenade.’ For the swing, you just hold each other like so – as if you were waltzing – and pedal around like you’re on a scooter.”
Ozma held up her hand and asked “What’s a scooter?”
“Never mind,” Shaggy answered. “Just walk kind of lopsided, like this,” and he demonstrated with Betsy, who remembered a little from her childhood. “You can get up quite a bit of speed if you like, but concentrate on making it smooth – the speed will take care of itself.”
The four couples practiced, with varying degrees of success, until Shaggy had to reassure them that it was easier with music. He then showed them how to promenade, escorting their partners around the set after every figure. “It’s just like strolling arm in arm in the garden – don’t be shy; I’ve seen most of you doing it when you thought no one was looking.” Betsy reddened a little; she and Ojo had in fact been out for a private walk that night, after dinner.
“I’ll start out easy,” Shaggy continued. “Each couple will swing, then go through the middle of the set, between the opposite couple. You’ll separate from your partner and go by yourself around the outside until you’re home again. Then everyone will swing their partners and promenade. If you can do that, you can do the rest.”
The band struck up one of Cap’n Bill’s hornpipes. Shaggy started giving the calls, and immediately it became clear what he had been doing all week with his notebook and pencil.
Honor your partners, everyone, we’re going to have some Ozzy fun.
Circle left around the floor, you’re not in Kansas anymore.
Again Dorothy had the curious sensation that she was not walking but flying. Maybe, she thought, this was how Polychrome felt when she danced on the Rainbow.
You swing me and I’ll swing you, swing that girl in Munchkin blue.
Promenade back home from there, make your sets all Woozy-square.
Merrily the dancers followed Shaggy’s directions, stopping in their home places. Shaggy called out Scraps and the Scarecrow, who were standing in first position.
First old couple swing and whirl, a straw-filled man and a patchwork girl.
Down the center of the set, she goes right and he goes left.
All the way around outside, then all swing partners high and wide.
Promenade that girl so pretty, she’s the one from Emerald City.
The dancers laughed and smiled, inwardly congratulating themselves on keeping up with the calls. Shaggy addressed the second couple, Betsy and Ojo.
Next old couple swing with joy, a Sooner girl and a lucky boy.
Down the center of the square, she goes here and he goes there.
Around outside till you get back home, then all swing partners, don’t you roam.
Munchkin blue and Winkie yellow, promenade that handsome fellow.
Trot and Button-Bright were in third place.
Next couple swing with great delight, a girl so sweet and a boy so bright.
Split the ring like a great big saw, the lady goes gee and the gent goes haw.
Around the outside, don’t ask why, then all swing partners ’way up high.
Promenade around the square, keep a-head of Langwidere.
Everyone burst out laughing, no one louder than Dorothy and Ozma, for the two had met when the Kansas girl was a prisoner in Langwidere’s tower, locked up for refusing to accept one of that fearsome woman’s cast-off heads in exchange for her own. Dorothy’s pulse quickened as she recalled her meeting with Ozma, whom she had loved at first sight; her heart beat faster still as she realized it was their turn to lead the figure.
Last couple swing and don’t you fall, two of the fairest of them all.
Down the center, step with pride, then separate around outside.
One goes east and the other goes west, then swing the one that you love best.
Promenade around the land, Queen and Princess hand in hand.
Dorothy felt her face getting hot. A sidelong glance at her partner didn’t tell her much: Ozma had such a natural bloom on her cheeks that it was hard to detect a blush.
Shaggy called a final chorus for everyone:
Circle left around the ring, throw an egg at the old Nome King.
Swing your Betsy, swing your Dot, promenade and around you Trot.
Groans mingled with the laughter.
Handsomest boy I’ve ever seen, don’t tell anyone he’s the Queen.
The laughter threatened to drown out Shaggy’s calls.
Bow to your partners, Toto too, that’s the end, that’s it, we’re through.
Thunderous applause broke out for Shaggy.
The group did several more squares, the couples taking turns dancing and sitting out. They exchanged partners from time to time, but found they were happiest with their own special friend. Button-Bright blushed a lot but seemed to be enjoying himself nonetheless. Betsy and Ojo were definitely enjoying the chance to spend time together; they looked at each other frequently and always held hands in the square even when it wasn’t their turn to lead. Halfway through the evening the group broke for refreshments, then danced again with renewed energy.
* * *
“All right, this will be the last dance,” Shaggy announced. “It’s a singing square, to an old tune called Listen to the Mockingbird.”
“What’s a mockingbird?” Ozma asked.
“It’s a bird we have in America,” Betsy said, “that can imitate the song of any other bird. Sometimes they make other sounds too. My cousin in Missouri said she once heard a mocker make a noise just like a steamboat whistle.”
“My goodness!” Ozma exclaimed. “It sounds like magic.”
“’Tis magic, in a manner o’ speakin’,” chimed in Cap’n Bill. “It’s Nature’s magic… though some folks b’lieve it was planned that way a-purpose – planned by what you fairies call the Above.”
“Here we go,” warned Shaggy.
Well now, the first couple promenade the outside –
In the moonlight – on a June night –
Then you swing in the center while the others circle ’round,
And you kiss that pretty lady if you dare.
Scraps and the Scarecrow pressed their fabric faces together while the other dancers laughed and skipped around them.
Well now, the second couple promenade the outside…
And you kiss that pretty lady if you dare.
Trot decided to take the initiative and plant a big smacking kiss on Button-Bright’s cheek. If he didn’t know by now how she felt about him, this would clinch it. Just as she was leaning in, Button-Bright turned his head so their lips met. It was over in a second, but it was clearly not a brother-and-sister kiss. They both turned red as a Quadling’s jacket, but both were smiling, so Dorothy figured everything was all right.
Now the third couple promenade the outside…
And let me see you kiss her if you dare.
Betsy and Ojo looked into each other’s eyes for a long moment, then went into a very grown-up embrace. There were hoots from the band as well as the other dancers. “Get a room!” yelled Scraps.
Now the last couple promenade the outside –
In the moonlight – on a June night –
Then you swing in the center while the others circle ’round,
And you kiss your pretty Princess while you’re there.
Dorothy didn’t have to think. She moistened her lips, closed her eyes, and turned her face up. Ozma’s mouth met hers, and time stopped.
Some time later – it might have been ten seconds or ten years – Dorothy realized the dance was over. She let Ozma guide her to a table and support her as she sat down. Heaven only knew why, but her knees were a little weak. She and Ozma had kissed many times – every morning and evening, in fact. It was warm and sweet, a brief connection to affirm their friendship as they began and ended the day. But this was different. It was even sweeter, if that was possible. And – oh, dear – it was quite a bit warmer. Dorothy realized she was breathing harder and faster than usual, and she didn’t think it was just from the exertion of the dance.
* * *
Even though the music had ended, it seemed nobody wanted to leave. The dancers cheered for Shaggy and the musicians, then everyone crowded around Betsy to bless her on her anniversary and Dorothy to praise her for organizing the party. Both girls received many hugs and a few kisses, for these were their oldest and dearest friends. There was talk of holding another dance soon, and inviting more people. After several rounds of mutual congratulations, the group finally dispersed.
When everyone else had left the ballroom, Ozma took Dorothy by the shoulders and fixed her with an emerald gaze. “Dorothy, that was a wonderful job of party planning. You made Betsy very happy, and all the others too. I’m really impressed with the way you got everyone to work together. I’m so proud of you I can hardly find the words to tell you.”
Dorothy blushed for the dozenth time that night. “Shucks, it was fun, Ozma,” she said. “I’m glad I could make everybody happy. But it wasn’t hard to get people to help – they all jumped at the chance. That’s just the way they are, I guess – always wanting to be helpful, always there for each other.”
“You’re right, we have the best friends anyone could wish for,” Ozma replied. “Come with me, dear; I have a surprise for you.” Dorothy took Ozma’s arm and let her companion lead her out the front door and down the Palace steps.
It was a beautiful night; a full moon shone and a cool breeze was blowing. The Red Wagon stood at the foot of the stairs, brightly polished, with the Sawhorse hitched up and a warm-looking blanket folded on the front seat.
“While you were decorating the room today, I was talking with your Uncle Henry,” said Ozma. “He told me that a fellow would hire a fancy rig to call on his best girl and take her to a dance. Then afterward, it was easy to take her home if they lived near each other, because the horse knew the way. The fellow would just wrap the reins around the whip-holder and give all his attention to his girl.”
Dorothy felt herself blushing again. “That sounds… nice.”
“Well, we have a horse that knows the way,” said Ozma, her eyes shining. “He doesn’t even need any reins.”
Dorothy, her heart full to bursting, stepped up into the wagon and took her seat, followed by Ozma.
“Once around the Palace grounds, at a slow walk, please,” Ozma told the Sawhorse.
“Certainly, ma’am,” he replied, starting off.
“Dorothy dear, do you remember the night you went off to ask Betsy what kind of party she wanted?”
“Of course, Ozma.”
“I encouraged you to go, but you must have missed our ‘together time’ that night. I know I did… so let’s make up for it, right now.” There was a hint of steel in the Ruler’s voice as she said “Come here, Dorothy.”
As Ozma slipped an arm masterfully around her, turning her to face the Queen, and firmly lifted her chin with the other hand, Dorothy thought she had never been so happy in her life.