Chapter 2

The Twenty-Four Egger

At the controls of the jet helecopter, H.P.I. Smith took the shortcut, and he and the Monkees arrived over the postage stamp-sized kingdom of Bellevue only a few hours after leaving their departure point.

"That's it right down there." Smith pointed.

The Monkees looked.

"Down where?" Mike asked. "All I can see is a little square of purple with the head of a chicken imprinted on it."

"And the number five and an egg and one corner," Micky added, peering out the window.

"That's it. Looks a lot like a postage stamp, doesn't it?" Smith said. "Get your parachutes. I'll circle and we'll all bail out."

"Why don't we just land?" Davy asked.

"You sure have a lot to learn about the spy business," Smith replied. "A spy always parachutes into enemy territory. Getting there is half the fun."

Smith and the Monkees strapped themselves into their parachutes. Then Smith opened the hatch and they jumped. The helecopter, pilotless, sped off into the distance.

"Isn't that a little expensive, abandoning a jet helecopter?" Mike asked as they slowly drifted toward earth.

"When you're a spy, you travel first class," Smith replied. He pointed downward. "Perfect jump," he said. "We're going to land right in the middle of the castle barnyard."

"And there's the reception committee," Davy said. "But... from here they look like soldiers."

"An honor gaurd," Smith explained. "You'll be very big in Bellevue. The people don't see many strangers. There's a saying among experienced travelers that although Bellevue is a terrible place to live it's an even worse place to visit."

"If it's an honor gaurd," Peter asked, "why do the soldiers have their bayonets pointed up?"

"They want to make sure you stick around," Smith explained.

As Smith and the Monkees neared the ground, the soldiers moved back, forming a circle. A moment later, Smith and the Monkees dropped into the center of it.

The commander of the soldiers stepped forward. "In the name of King Hiriam, I welcome you to Bellevue," he announced. He signaled to one of his men. "Frisk 'em," he ordered.

"There's no need for that," Smith said to the commander. "I checked them out, and they don't have one thing worth stealing."

The commander clicked his heels and saluted.

"Man you sure have pull around here," Davy said to Smith.

"I give them a lot of my spying business," Smith replied. "They appreciate it." He addressed the commander again. "Take us to King Hiriam," he said. "He's expecting us."

Once more the commander clicked his heels and saluted. Then he and his men marched the Monkees and Smith toward the rear door of the castle. The barnyard animals-- geese, cows, horses, pigs, sheep-- honked, mooed, neighed, oinked, and baaed as they passed.

"King Hiriam must not be very well-off," Mike commented. "No chickens."

Smith winced. "Chickens in a dirty old barnyard?" he said. "The chickens have the top floor of the castle. That floor offers the best view of the countryside. Nothing is too good for the chicken."

"They ought to like me here in Bellevue, then," Peter said. "I've always been a little chicken myself."

Lowering his voice, Mike spoke to Micky, who was walking next to him. "Don't ya think it's a little odd how that commander took from Smith?" he asked.

"Smith explained that, he gives them the business," Micky replied.

"Think about it," Mike said. "If he spies on them, why would they give him so much respect?"

"Simple," Micky answered. "For the same reason they keep chickens on the top floor of the castle-- we're in a loony bin!"

Mike shook his head. "That explains a lot, but not everything. I think there's something about this chicken mission that Smith hasn't told us."

They entered the castle, proceeded along a corridor, then reached another doorway. The commander ushered them into a room that looked a great deal like an old-time farm kitchen. There was a huge cast-iron stove, into which a gray-haired old lady, wearing a faded gingham dress, was pitching corncobs. In one corner was a washtub and washboard. Seated at the large kitchen table was a big, ruddy-faced fellow. He had chin whiskers and was dressed in overalls and boots. Around his neck was a red bandanna, and perched sideways on his head was a gold crown.

"This is the throne room," Smith said to the Monkees. "And, as you've probably guessed, this is King Hiram." He then addressed the king. "Here they are, Your Highness-- the Monkees," he said.

"Howdy, boys," the king smiled amiably. He hooked a thumb toward the gray-haired old lady. "That there's Maw," he said. Then, turning toward his mother, he said, "Better whiste up Ellie Jo, Maw. She'd sour the honey pot if she found out we let the company get away 'fore she seen 'em."

Maw put two fingers between het teeth and shattered the quiet with a shrill whistle.

"That'll bring her." The king chuckled. He faced the Monkees again. "Pull up a chair and squat," he said. "I reckon we can get crackin' on this welcomin' ceremony. That's one of my chores, as king. I got to glad-hand every Tom, Dick, and Harry that lights in town. First time I ever laid out the red carpet for a clutch of Monkees, though." He sighed woefully. "Kingin' ain't what it used to be."

"Things are bound to pick up once you take over the world, son," his mother said comfortingly.

"Yep!" King Hiram nodded. "There'll be some changes made, all right."

"What sort of changes?" Davy asked.

"I'll undo all the changes that've been made," the king replied.

"That'll be a change," Davy acknowledged.

At the moment a young lady about the age of the Monkees entered the throne room. She was beautiful. Her blond hair was in pigtails and she was wearing a brightly colored calico dress.

"You whistle, Gran'maw?" she asked.

"I wasn't tootin' on the organ," the queen mother replied.

The king introduced the young lady to the Monkees. She was Ellie Jo, his daughter. She blushed as the introductions were made.

"Maw, rustle up some eggnogs," the king ordered. "The boys must be dry after that long trip."

"It wasn't very long-- we took the shortcut," Mike said.

"Need the eggnogs for the ceremony, anyways," King Hiram said. "I got to toast you boys and your country to make the welcomin' official. We don't hold back none when we get company. Only the best."

"Has there been any publicity about our cultural tour yet?" Mike asked the king. "A few stories in the newspapers always help to draw a crowd."

The king frowned. "Ain't got no newspapers," he said.

"Ain't got no news," Ellie Jo explained. "Don't nothin' happen in Bellevue." She smiled affectionately at her father. "Paw don't let it," she said.

"Ellie Jo's right," King Hiram said. "Last time anything like news happened in Bellevue was in 1764 when old Dan Barnthistle's prize hen laid an egg with a double yolk."

"What about the Button?" Micky asked. "Isn't that news?"

"Yep, I reckon that's right," the king replied. "But having one little speck of news ain't no cause to start up a whole newspaper. Say we printed the story about The Button. What would we do the next day? We'd be stuck with a newspaper and nothin' to put in it. Leave well enough alone-- that's my motto."

The queen mother handed around the glasses of eggnog.

"Well, here's to you boys," the king said, raising his glass, beginning the toast. "And, while we're about it, here's to that funny-lookin' country you come from, too."

"What's so funny-looking about the United States?" Peter asked.

"It ain't square," King Hiram replied. "It's got all them bulges stickin' out. The right shape for a country is like postage stamp. Any doggone fool knows that."

"Paw knows it," Ellie Jo said sweetly.

King Hiram raised his glass again. "We-all in Bellevue want you boys to know it sure is an honor to have you as our guests," he continued. "It sure is neighborly of you, bringin' your high-toned culture over here to share with us plain folk. 'Course, there's some that might say, 'Who needs it?' But nobody'll hear 'em. 'Cause they don't get invited to official ceremonies like this."

"That's very nice of you to say that-- I think," Mike replied. "And, speaking for all of us--"

"I ain't finished," the king interrupted.

"Oh."

"Next, we drink up," King Hiram said.

They all sipped from their glasses.

"How's them eggnogs?" the queen mother asked.

"A little rich," Micky replied.

"Should be, them's five-egg eggnogs," she said.

"Well, thank the chicken, that's finished," the king said. He turned to Smith. "You can call them soldiers in and tell them they can throw these spies in the dungeon now," he said. "Myself, I'm due for a little snooze. This hospitality wears me out. It ain't natural."

"The dungeon?" all the Monkees shouted in unison.

"Surely you don't think we let spies run around loose," Smith said.

"What do you mean, 'we'?" Micky asked. "You're supposed to be on our side."

"Oh-- did I forget to mention that?" Smith replied. "Actually I only pretend to be a spy for the United States. I'm really a spy for Bellevue."

"Then why did you bring us over here to help you find The Button?" Davy inquired.

"Orders," Smith answered. "The U.S. doesn't kmow I'm a spy for Bellevue. It thinks I'm a spy for the U.S. So, as a spy for the U.S., I was ordered to get you to help me find The Button and destroy it. All along, however, I've really been working for Bellevue."

"Don't you sometimes get a little confused?" Peter asked.

"Only on my days off, when I do a little freelance spying for Russia," Smith replied.

"What I don't understand is what good this is going to do anybody," Davy said.

"What bad it's going to do anybody, you mean," Smith said. "And the answer to that is quite simple. I'll keep sending reports back to Washington, telling them we're hto on the trail of The Button. In the meantime, The Button will be completely safe. Because you will be locked up in a cell in the dungeon."

"I like it," Micky said. "I think it'll work."

King Hiram yawned. "You gonna stay around jawin'," he crossly said to Smith, "or are you gonna get them soldier fellas?"

"Coming up, Your Highness," Smith replied, moving toward the door.

"It sure has been a pleasure meetin' you boys," Ellie Jo said to the Monkees, blushing again. "If you ever break out of that dungeon, you be sure and call again-- hear?"

"What's a nice princess like you doing in a kingdom like this?" Davy asked. "With your looks and that blush, you could be on color television."

Princess Ellie Jo had no opportunity to reply. For at that moment the soldiers entered the throne room and hustled the Monkees out. They took them down a long corridor and then down a long flight of stone steps. Finally they reached the dungeon. A guard was standing sentry duty at a row of cells.

"Four prisoners for you, compliments of King Hiram," the commander of the soldiers announced to the guard.

"Strange-lookin' boys, ain't they?" the guard, a tall, lanky youth, replied. "With all that hair, you can tell they're criminals, all right. I always say, show me a fella with long hair and I'll show you a--" He interrupted himself, looked thoughtful for a moment, and then asked, "What's the charge?"

"Spying," the commander replied.

"--and I'll show you a dirty, doggone, lily-livered spy," the guard concluded. He opened a cell door and motioned to the Monkees. "Inside, you culprits."

When the Monkees had been securely locked behind bars, the soldiers departed and the guard began marching back and forth, back and forth, in front of the cells.

"I don't want to be an alarmist," Mike said to the other Monkees, "but I'm beginning to think we should never have left home."

"What are you worried about?" Peter asked, looking at his watch. "The cake will be along any minute now."

"That soon?" Davy asked, surprised. "What time is it?"

"Five minutes till cake," Peter replied.

"Why am I always the last to know!" Micky complained. "What cake?"

"The cake with the saw in it," Davy explained. "When somebody is put in a cell, somebody else always shows up about five minutes later with a cake with a saw in it."

"We better not depend on that," Mike decided. "Our only chance, as I see it, is to trick the guard. Micky, you start groaning. Pretend that you're sick. Then, when the guard comes in to find out what's wrong, we'll jump him. Okay? Now!"

Micky stretched out on one of the cots. "Oh! My tum-tum!" he groaned.

"Where does it hurt?" Peter asked sympathetically.

"Just a little bit north of North Carolina," Micky replied. He clutched his head. "Oh! My poor tum-tum! Tell me the truth, Doctor! I can take it!"

"I think you have a misplaced tum-tum," Peter said.

The guard stopped at the cell door. "What's going on in there?" he demanded.

"My friend is sick!" Mike said. "Do something!"

Sick, eh?" the guard replied coldly. "I'm not surprised. That long hair will do it every time."

"He needs help!" Mike pleaded.

"I can't help him," the guard said. "I'm not a doctor."

"Then get a doctor!"

The guard shook his head. "Not a chance," he said. "Doctors don't make cell calls these days." He resumed marching.

Micky sat up. "It's a miracle-- I'm cured!" he cried joyfully.

"And they told your tum-tum it would never walk again," Davy said with a cynical smile. "It just goes to prove: Where there's--"

"Howdy, boys," a feminine voice interrupted.

Turning, the Monkees found Princess Ellie Jo outside the cell door. She was carrying a thickly iced angel food cake.

"Am I late?" she asked.

"Nope-- right on time," Peter replied, glancing at his watch.

"Guard!" Princess Ellie Jo called. "Let me into the cell, please. I'm gonna interrogate these terrible ol' spies."

"Do you think it's safe, Princess?" the guard asked worriedly, unlocking the cell door. "I understand that long hair is catching."

"I guess it wouldn't hurt me none, me bein' a girl," she replied. "But if it troubles you, why don't you go off somewheres where you can't see what's goin' on?"

"Gee, thanks. You're a princess, Princess," the guard said. And after letting Ellie Jo into the cell and locking the door again, he moved on down the corridor out of sight.

"I'll bet you've got something for us in that cake," Micky said to the princess, grinning.

"Sure enough," she answered, blushing. "I reckon I just plumb couldn't stand it, havin' you boys locked up like a bunch of animals. What's in this cake'll get you out-- no maybes about that."

"Just a minute," Mike said suspiciously. "Why are you doing this? Don't you realize that if we get out of here we'll start looking for The Button? And that when we find it we'll destroy it?"

"But that's why, punkins," Princess Ellie Jo replied. "I want you to find that button and destroy it. I declare I haven't had a minute's happiness since that ol' button got itself invented. I got to think about my future."

"Your future?" Mike said, puzzled. "Your father will be king of the world. And that will make you princess of the world. What's so terrible about that, futurewise?"

"It'd just ruin my whole life, that's all," Princess Ellie Jo said sorrowfully. "You know what Daddy's got in mind? He's gonna turn the whole world into one big ol' Bellevue. Everybody everywhere's not gonna have the same things we ain't got here. They ain't gonna have automobiles, and they ain't gonna have airplanes, and they ain't gonna have electric toothbrushes-- they just ain't gonna have nothin'. I'll tell you, havin' nothin' is just gonna be common as dirt. Now, that means somethin'. It ain't everybody that ain't got nothin'. But when everybody ain't got nothin'-- who wants it?"

The Monkees looked at each other blankly.

"You see," Princess Ellie Jo continued, "as it is, bein' a princess, naturally, I got more nothin' than anybody. It's kind of a priviledge of rank-- you know? And that sets me apart. I mean, I'm somebody. But when everybody in the whole world has nothin'.... Well it's gonna take the status right out of it."

"I think I see what she means," Mike said. "She means--"

"Don't start that again!" Davy broke in. "We all see what she means."

"So I brought you this cake," Princess Ellie Jo said. "And, just to make it even easier, I'm gonna tell you where you can find that horrible ol' Dr. Von Durfull and his silly ol' button. He's up in the tower."

"You mean he's a prisoner, too?" Peter asked.

"Land sakes, no, sugar," Ellie Jo replied. "He's up there toilin'. He-- Just a minute," she said. She closed her eyes tightly and blushed. "If I don't do that blush ever' once in a while, I get out of practice," she explained. "Now, then, what was I sayin'?"

"Dr. Von Durfull...."

"He's up there in the tower hidin' away-- so none of you spy fellas'll find him," the princess continued. "But he's also studyin' The Button. You see, he don't recollect how he put it together, and, bein' a scientist, he's curious. They're all like that-- nosy, nosy, nosy."

"Princess, your troubles are over," Micky said. "The instant we get out of this cell we'll rush up to the tower and destroy that button."

"I just knew I could depend on you." The princess blushed.

"Oh... one thing... which way to the tower?" Micky asked.

"Up, dumplin'."

"It gets easier all the time," Micky replied. "Now, if you'll just hand over the cake..."

"I'll give it to this one," Ellie Jo said, putting the cake in Mike's hands. "Anybody who don't know that a tower is up shouldn't be trusted with anything valuable. That cake is a dozen-egger."

"Wow!" Peter said, inspecting the cake from all angles. "What's the icing worth?"

"Another dozen eggs in that icin'," Ellie Jo replied. "In fact, my whole month's allowance is tied up in that cake, so don't you fail me."

"Don't worry-- it's like money in the bank," Davy promised. "We'll make sure that you never have to worry about your nothing again."

Princess Ellie Jo summoned the guard. He opened the cell door and let her out. Then, as she departed, he locked it again.

"Say, that's a jim-dandy cake," the guard said, peering into the cell. "Looks like about a twenty-four egger-- counting the icing."

"Hadn't you better get back to your marching?" Mike asked.

The guard ignored the question. "Not much I wouldn't do for a twenty-four egger," he said hungrily.

"Hup! One, two, three! March!" Micky commanded.

The guard sighed sadly and then reluctantly resumed walking his post.

The instant he was out of sight, the Monkees dived at the cake. They tore it piece from piece. Icing splattered.

"No saw!" Micky groaned.

"It must be here somewhere," Davy insisted. "No girl who blushes like that could be a double-crosser."

"Tear it into smaller pieces," Mike said. "Maybe it's a miniature saw."

Frantic, they ripped the pieces into pieces. But the result was the same.

"No saw," Micky groaned again.

"I can't believe it," Davy said. "So much depended on this. Why did the princess bring us this cake if it doesn't have a saw in it?"

The guard stopped at the cell door again. "Cracky! That sure is a mess in there," he said. "Too bad, too. With a twenty-four egger like that, you could have bribed me and escaped and got hold of The Button and made Bellevue safe for nothing again. But... it's not worth much now."

"I guess that explains why she brought us the cake," Mike said to Davy.

Davy looked gloomily at the cake and icing clinging to his fingers; then he shrugged. "Easy come... easy go," he said.