They all
seemed to have a light green hue, as if unripe or
not fully developed, their flesh and clothing
being alike green. They stood perfectly lifeless
upon their branches, which swayed softly in the
breeze, and their wide open eyes stared straight
ahead, unseeing and unintelligent.
While examining these curious growing people,
Betsy passed behind a big central bush and at once
uttered an exclamation of surprise and pleasure.
For there, blooming in perfect color and shape,
stood a Royal Princess, whose beauty was amazing.
"Why, she's ripe!" cried Betsy, pushing aside
some of the broad leaves to observe her more
clearly.
"Well, perhaps so," admitted the Gardener,
who had come to the girl's side; "but she's a girl,
and so we can't use her for a Ruler."
"No, indeed!" came a chorus of soft voices,
and looking around Betsy discovered that all the
Roses had followed them from the greenhouse
and were now grouped before the entrance.
"You see," explained the Gardener, "the subjects
of Rose Kingdom don't want a girl Ruler. They want
a King."
"A King! We want a King!" repeated the
chorus of Roses.
"Isn't she Royal?" inquired Shaggy, admiring
the lovely Princess.
"Of course, for she grows on a Royal Bush.
This Princess is named Ozga, as she is a distant
cousin of Ozma of Oz; and, were she but a man,
we would joyfully hail her as our Ruler."
The Gardener then turned away to talk with
his Roses and Betsy whispered to her companion:
"Let's pick her, Shaggy.
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