The
band played bravely while every one watched the bubble until it was
completely out of sight.
"How 'bout you, Polly?" Dorothy asked her friend. "Are you 'fraid of
bubbles, too?"
"No," answered Polychrome, smiling; "but Santa Claus promised to speak
to my father as he passed through the sky. So perhaps I shall get
home an easier way."
Indeed, the little maid had scarcely made this speech when a sudden
radiance filled the air, and while the people looked on in wonder the
end of a gorgeous rainbow slowly settled down upon the platform.
With a glad cry, the Rainbow's Daughter sprang from her seat and
danced along the curve of the bow, mounting gradually upward, while
the folds of her gauzy gown whirled and floated around her like a
cloud and blended with the colors of the rainbow itself.
"Good-bye Ozma! Good-bye Dorothy!" cried a voice they knew belonged to
Polychrome; but now the little maiden's form had melted wholly into
the rainbow, and their eyes could no longer see her.
Suddenly, the end of the rainbow lifted and its colors slowly faded
like mist before a breeze. Dorothy sighed deeply and turned to Ozma.
"I'm sorry to lose Polly," she said; "but I guess she's better off
with her father; 'cause even the Land of Oz couldn't be like home to a
cloud fairy."
"No indeed," replied the Princess; "but it has been delightful for us
to know Polychrome for a little while, and--who knows?--perhaps we
may meet the Rainbow's Daughter again, some day.
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