Chapter Twelve
"I don't believe she'll ever marry me," he stuttered, beginning to feel quite frightened at his boldness.
"Nonsense," wheezed Kabumpo faintly. He was beginning to have misgivings himself. "Sit up now! Look your best, and I'll carry you straight into the palace gardens."
No one was awake. Even the Soldier with the Green Whiskers lay snoring against a tree, so that Kabumpo stole unobserved into the Royal Gardens.
"I don't see the palace," whispered Pompa anxiously. "Wouldn't it show above the trees?"
"It ought to," said Kabumpo, wrinkling up his fore- head. "But look! Who is that?"
Pompa's heart almost stopped, and even Kabumpo's gave a queer jump. On a golden bench, just ahead, sat the loveliest person either had seen in all of their eighteenth birthdays.
"Ozma," gasped the Elegant Elephant, as soon as he had breath enough to whisper. "What luck! You must ask her at once.
"Not now," begged the Prince of Pumperdink, as Kabumpo unceremoniously helped him to the ground. His knees shook, his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. He had never proposed to a Fairy Princess before in his whole life. Then all at once he had an
