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Oz was a very merry fairyland, full of adventure and magic around every corner. There were very few unhappy denizens under the rule of Ozma the Gracious and many of these were wicked souls who were made unhappy by dint of their very wickedness. While there was no end of gay adventures and frolics to be had there was something Princess Dorothy of Oz felt was missing quite keenly. It was not companionship for she had a great many dear friends and possessed a knack for making new ones wherever she went. It was not health for no one took ill in Oz save for sickness caused by enchantment. The queer ache did not subside no matter how many games she played with Betsy and Trot, nor when she visited her oldest friends the Scarecrow and the Tin Woodman in Winkie country, not even a rare visit from Glinda the Good uplifted her.
None of them could quite understand. Betsy was a lovely friend but not quite good for solving dilemmas and Trot was almost too practical to ever feel much discontent to know how to deal with it. Her aunt and uncle couldn’t understand – so much they loved their new little farm and friends in fairyland. The Tin Man claimed that unhappiness of that caliber was proof of a heart, albeit one that wanted for some fixing while the Scarecrow chimed in that jumbled thoughts were often a cause of malaise. Too silly and mundane the matter seemed to bother the great sorceress Glinda who had come to the Emerald City to discuss a dire matter in Quadling Country with Ozma. And Ozma-!
Dorothy loved Ozma best of all and it seemed an insult to her friend to ever plead sadness in the land of Oz. She shuddered at the very ingratitude it was suggestive of. While the ache had only grown instead of shrunk the girl was determined to ignore it a while longer and to not speak of it to a soul – not even sympathetic Jellia Jamb who’d be dropping hints that she’d noticed the Princess’ change in mood.
However when a rainbow touched down in one of the palace gardens one dawn Dorothy flew outside in her nightdress to call down her dear friend Polychrome, one of the Rainbow’s daughters, before everyone else woke. Poly was so vibrant and jolly that one could never imagine her in sorrow, but over the years she acquired a reputation for being quite wise in the nature of love and happiness in mortals.
“I declare,” Dorothy told Polychrome quite miserably after they had made their greetings and caught up, “It’s not comfortable to not know what troubles you. Everyone else is happy so I oughta be too. It’s gone on so long that I made up my mind to be happy last week and it hasn’t settled one bit.”
Polychrome had danced all around the rose garden while Dorothy had aired her discontent, something Dorothy took not a jot of offense towards because those of fairy blood did that sort of thing and it never meant Poly wasn’t paying attention. Indeed it was quite the opposite, Poly was usually doing her best thinking whilst dancing.
“What particularly makes you feel your ache?” the fairy girl asked, dancing closer to Dorothy.
“Well,” Dorothy wrinkled her brow and concentrated. “When Ozma is busy with state matters and the councilors shoo me away. Only it’s worse when they let me stay because then I feel like a kitten allowed in a parlor for a treat. When the Wizard uses smaller words to talk to me when I’m with Ozma, even though I understand the other words just fine. When Glinda pats me on the head and calls me good.” She ticked off the points on her hand with a sigh. “I know they all mean well.”
“Ah,” said Polychrome at last grasping the heart of the situation. “You don’t enjoy being a little girl anymore and you think you cannot grow up.”
Sometime after Ozma had rightfully taken her place on the throne Oz had become a more powerful fairyland than when the Wizard or King Pastoria had held the position. Gradually its inhabitants were granted a kind of slowly settling immortality and after that came the full halt of aging of most Oz denizens. Those of fairy blood aged as their kin were wont to and those who truly wanted to grow older did without any problem save for the curiosity of their neighbors.
The princess went over to one of the garden gazebos beckoning Poly as the palace staff were beginning to stir as evidenced by the sounds of kitchen clatter and the chimneys letting out puffs of emerald smoke. “But I can’t can I? I always expected to grow up either in Kansas or Oz. And it wouldn’t be half so awful if Ozma was staying the same.” Dorothy hugged her shawl around herself tighter, more for comfort than for warmth. “When we first met she was just about my age, but now that I’ve come to stay in Oz she’s growing up, slowly but still growing, and I’m just the same on the outside.”
Though an immortal dame Polychrome could understand her friend’s plight. She might have felt that same if some of her sisters began to grow up without her. Putting a friendly arm around her friend Polychrome asked, “You’re not so lonely are you? With Betsy and Trot and everyone?”
“Oh I’ve lots of friends here and all over Oz, but Ozma’s different. She’s my dearest friend anywhere and I s’pose I’m hurt she’s growing up and away when I’d be happier growing with her. But it feels disrespectful to go off and try to grow up without letting her know since it’s not done so much in Oz.”
In her heart of hearts Dorothy found it difficult to admit that she feared Ozma wouldn’t like her anymore if she was grown-up. What if she grew up into an altogether different person? What if Ozma didn’t really think of them as the dearest of friends and only saw Dorothy as a quaint little dear to be petted and made happy.
“Then let her know!” was Poly’s eminently sensible suggestion. “Wouldn’t Ozma be more upset if you were always unhappy and didn’t tell her?”
Dorothy bit her lip thoughtfully, “You really think it be less hurtful to tell her than not?” Even as she asked the question she knew what the answer would be.
“Yes,” Poly said with tinkling laugh and a swift hug to her friend, which meant she was very serious indeed. “Why don’t you do so this very day?”
“Thank you, Poly,” Dorothy smiled gratefully at her friend. “I think I will.”
It was of course one thing to set one’s mind to a course of action when the day was brightly dawning and the dew-laden flowers sparkled as if in encouragement. It was entirely another thing to gather up one’s pluck in the early afternoon after some hours have had time for doubt to come to roost.
Dorothy had set aside her crown and forgone her one of her usual short frocks. Instead with a little coaxing she’d been able to borrow a somewhat longer, sensible dress from Jellia Jamb and tied her hair back with a slim ribbon. A glance in the mirror told Dorothy she’d been successful. The Dorothy-in-the-looking-glass was not a little girl princess rather she was a young woman – nervous and struggling to be brave.
“A little bit grown up but you’re no Gibson girl,” she wagged her finger at the reflection. “But I s’pose that’s best. A Gibson girl doesn’t really belong in Oz.”
With a last sigh Dorothy left her suite swiftly making her way to Ozma’s chambers. Heavy-hearted she went light-footed down the polished green marble hall where sunlight streamed through the stained glass windows creating a rainbow patchwork of light on the floors. The trip was scarcely long as Ozma had granted Dorothy chambers very close to her own so that they may be near each other always. Remembering that Dorothy felt a little more courageous as she knocked their secret knock on Ozma’s door.
“Come in, Dorothy,” came Ozma’s clear sweet voice. Dorothy did so, entering much more shyly than her customary familiar manner. She was very much aware that today she was entering as the once-mortal farmgirl with a foolish mortal request and not the ever-laughing girl princess in fairyland. Sometimes it was difficult to think of Ozma as the ruler of Oz foremost rather than her most beloved friend yet Dorothy felt it keenly at that moment. How regal and elegant Ozma was sitting at her desk pouring over papers of great importance! It was nearly like beholding a stranger.
“Good afternoon, Ozma,” was the demure answer. So demure that Ozma looked up and was surprised at her friend’s somber dress and manners.
“Dorothy whatever is the matter?” The monarch rose immediately and took Dorothy’s hands in her own. “Is something wrong, dear?”
“I came over to ask you something, but,” Dorothy couldn’t bear to meet Ozma’s gaze. She knew herself to be brave, there were so many adventures in which her practicality and pluck saw her through when fear would’ve only served to hold her back, but her bravery seemed to melt away with Ozma so close and sweet. “But I reckon maybe I shouldn’t.”
“Do you want to leave Oz?” How much it hurt Ozma to ask that without accusation or bitterness Dorothy never knew. “Dorothy, you know you may ask anything of me.”
“No! Nothing like that!” the girl was appalled at the very suggestion. “I never want to leave Oz, it’s my home. I only came to ask you if I might grow up.”
“Oh!” There were few things that surprised the wise and merry ruler and this was one of them. “Of course you may if you like. There is no enchantment that I can lift or bestow, should you will it so it shall happen. May I ask why?”
“Lots of reasons, but mostly because you’re growing up,” Dorothy said plainly. “And I want to grow up with you. I don’t care if it hurts sometimes because I’ve had plenty of pains and that doesn’t stop me.”
“It’s not the body that hurts, dear,” answered Ozma as gently as she could. She was touched by her friend’s devotion for it would have been well within Dorothy’s right to grow or not grow as she pleased.
“That’s all right. Aunt Em always said that when you get happiness there’s always a little sadness tucked up inside. But I reckon I can face any amount of little sadnesses for the bigger happiness to grow up with you,” Dorothy felt her courage returning, buoyed by Ozma’s response thus far.
“Do remember it cannot be reversed,” Ozma replied a note of caution in her tone. “There is no spell that can return youth left behind.”
“Well are you going to un-grow up any time soon?” Dorothy countered grinning as the future unfolded before her with new promise.
Ozma shook her head, “No, of course not.” Perhaps one of fairy blood as strong as Ozma could reverse rather simply halt age if she had put her mind to it, but even if she could the monarch felt there would be something of a bad example for a ruler to set and had been content with aging very slowly in comparison to the normal mortal speed.
“Then it’s settled! I want to age at just the same speed as you,” declared Dorothy. “Only I have to go a little faster at first to catch up with you and then we’ll be the same.” She laughed and embraced Ozma tightly. “And oh Ozma I’m the happiest girl in all of Oz right at this very moment!”
Though that may be well contended for Ozma’s joy and delight were bubbling up and overflowing as never before. “We both are, dearest Dorothy. We both are.”