Again, the Scarecrow gave me a meaningful look that said, We’ll discuss this later. “I do not,” he said. “Glinda’s whereabouts have been unknown for quite some time now.”

“For how long?” I asked, putting my fork down, suddenly interested again in the conversation.

“Oh, it’s hard to say,” the Scarecrow replied. He fiddled with a piece of straw that was poking out of his head. “You know we’re not much for time here in Oz. No one gets older here, and we celebrate the holidays whenever we’re of a mood for it. But it was some time after Ozma took the crown. Glinda let it be known that she had important magical business beyond the Deadly Desert, and that we shouldn’t worry about her—that she would return when the time was right. That must have been, oh, at least ten years ago, if I venture a guess.”

“Ten years!” I exclaimed. “But, how long have I been gone?”

The Scarecrow turned in his seat and fixed his eyes on me seriously. “I don’t know, but I daresay there are many people here in Oz who won’t remember you at all. I, myself, had almost forgotten what you looked like.”

My last adventure here had lasted for what felt like almost a month, but when I’d returned home, only a few days had passed. Still, the idea that I had been gone so long that I’d been forgotten was unimaginable. All of my memories were still so fresh in my head.

I had so much to ask the Scarecrow. Why wasn’t he king anymore? Who was this Ozma person? Did he have any suspicions about where Glinda had really gone? But I had the impression that he didn’t want to talk about any of it in front of my aunt and uncle, and so I finished my meal in silence.

But there was so much on my mind that I hardly touched my food. Uncle Henry was a different story. I hadn’t even made a dent in my Waldorf salad, and he had already scarfed down a goblet full of maraschino cherries, a small mincemeat pie, several hunks of lamb slathered with green mint jelly, and—despite the fact that I was unsure where exactly shellfish came from in Oz, where there were no oceans that I knew of—a giant portion of shrimp cocktail served in a crystal goblet brimming with crushed ice.

And then they brought out the ice cream.

“Oh dear,” Aunt Em said when she saw it. “I’m afraid I can’t possibly eat any more. The meal was just perfect, Mr. Scarecrow, but I’m afraid it’s been quite a day. Would it be terribly rude of me to excuse myself?”

“Of course not,” the Scarecrow said. He clapped his hands and another Munchkin, this one dressed all in yellow, appeared. “This is BonBon. He’ll show you to your rooms.”

“Thank you, sir,” Uncle Henry said, standing along with Em. “Dorothy, don’t you stay up too late. Tomorrow we’ll need to be up at the crack of dawn to find Miss Glinda so that we can head on home.”

BonBon bowed and led them away.

As soon as they were gone, I pulled Toto into my lap and turned my chair to face the Scarecrow.

“Now tell me what is going on here,” I said. “I know there must be more to the story than you were telling me.”

He sighed. “You first,” he said. “I don’t for a moment believe that you wished your way here. It doesn’t work that way.”

So I told him the story: of my terrible birthday party, of the shoes, and the note that had come with them.

“They must have come from Glinda,” I finished. “Who else could have sent them?”

“It certainly sounds like her doing,” the Scarecrow mused. “But until now, I believed that Glinda was dead—or gone for good.”

“No,” I said, so emphatically that it came out as something approaching a shout. “No. Someone’s done something to her. She’s still in Oz, and she’s in trouble. That’s why she brought me here. To save her.”

“You may be right,” he said. “We’ll go to see Ozma tomorrow. She needs to be apprised of the situation.”

Every time anyone said the name Ozma, a terrible feeling came over me. I’d never met her and I barely knew who she was, but I didn’t like the sound of her. “Who is this Ozma?” I finally was able to ask. “And why aren’t you the king anymore?”

A look of something like regret passed across the Scarecrow’s face. He glanced down at his plate.

“Ozma is Oz’s true monarch,” he said. “She’s a direct descendant of Oz’s founder, the fairy Lurline. She was just a baby when the Wizard rose to power, and unable to inherit her throne. Still, the Wizard worried about the power she would eventually be able to wield. It’s hard to seize control of a kingdom when you have the True Princess swanning about in her prime. So he sent her to the North—to Gillikin Country. What happened to her there is a mystery. Only a few people are privy to all the details, and I am not one of them. What I do know is that she eventually managed to grow up, and made her way back to the Emerald City to reclaim her crown. Unfortunately for me, that was just a few months after I’d been made king. I ceded the crown to her immediately, of course.” He sighed and shrugged. “It was nice while it lasted.”

It sounded like a bunch of hooey to me. “So this Ozma can just march in and kick you out on your rear end? That’s not fair!”

“I had no choice. It is the way of Oz that Lurline’s heirs should rule. The people were happy with me as their king, but I must admit that Ozma has been a good ruler, too. The kingdom has never been more peaceful, or more prosperous.” He sounded cheerful, but it was obvious he was putting on a brave face.