Chapter Chapter 3 · The Mist Maidens

. The Mist Maidens

From the top of the hill Ozma and Dorothy looked down into the valley

beyond and were surprised to find it filled with a floating mist that

was as dense as smoke. Nothing in the valley was visible except these

rolling waves of mist, but beyond, on the other side, rose a grassy

hill that appeared quite beautiful.

"Well," said Dorothy, "what are we to do, Ozma? Walk down into that

thick fog, an' prob'bly get lost in it, or wait till it clears away?"

"I'm not sure it will clear away, however long we wait," replied Ozma,

doubtfully. "If we wish to get on, I think we must venture into the

mist."

"But we can't see where we're going, or what we're stepping on,"

protested Dorothy. "There may be dreadful things mixed up in that fog,

an' I'm scared just to think of wading into it."

Even Ozma seemed to hesitate. She was silent and thoughtful for a

little while, looking at the rolling drifts that were so gray and

forbidding. Finally she said:

"I believe this is a Mist Valley, where these moist clouds always

remain, for even the sunshine above does not drive them away. Therefore

the Mist Maids must live here, and they are fairies and should answer

my call."

She placed her two hands before her mouth, forming a hollow with them,

and uttered a clear, thrilling, bird-like cry. It floated far out over

the mist waves and presently was answered by a similar sound, as of a

far-off echo.

Dorothy was much impressed. She had seen many strange things since

coming to this fairy country, but here was a new experience. At

ordinary times Ozma was just like any little girl one might chance to

meet--simple, merry, lovable as could be--yet with a certain reserve

that lent her dignity in her most joyous moods. There were times,

however, when seated on her throne and commanding her subjects, or when

her fairy powers were called into use, when Dorothy and all others

about her stood in awe of their lovely girl Ruler and realized her

superiority.

Ozma waited. Presently out from the billows rose beautiful forms,

clothed in fleecy, trailing garments of gray that could scarcely be

distinguished from the mist. Their hair was mist-color, too; only their

gleaming arms and sweet, pallid faces proved they were living,

intelligent creatures answering the call of a sister fairy.

Like sea nymphs they rested on the bosom of the clouds, their eyes

turned questioningly upon the two girls who stood upon the bank. One

came quite near and to her Ozma said:

"Will you please take us to the opposite hillside? We are afraid to

venture into the mist. I am Princess Ozma of Oz, and this is my friend

Dorothy, a Princess of Oz."

The Mist Maids came nearer, holding out their arms. Without hesitation

Ozma advanced and allowed them to embrace her and Dorothy plucked up

courage to follow. Very gently the Mist Maids held them. Dorothy

thought the arms were cold and misty--they didn't seem real at all--yet

they supported the two girls above the surface of the billows and

floated with them so swiftly to the green hillside opposite that the

girls were astonished to find themselves set upon the grass before they

realized they had fairly started.

"Thank you!" said Ozma gratefully, and Dorothy also added her thanks

for the service.

The Mist Maids made no answer, but they smiled and waved their hands in

good-bye as again they floated out into the mist and disappeared from

view.