When the Monkees reached the edge of town, they noticed that the barage from the lady midget had ceased. Quick to take advantage of the situation, they stopped running.
"I think we lost her," Mike said, looking back.
"I'm not surprised," Micky said. "Anybody that small is pretty easy to misplace."
"Shall we send out a search party?" Peter asked the others.
"You'll use anything as an excuse for a party, won't you?" Mike said. "But we don't have time for it now. As you may or may not recall, not only have we lost a lady midget, we have also lost a giant tiddlywink."
"That sounds a little suspicious to me," Micky said. "One loss like that in one day might be a coincidence, but two losses in one day smacks of deliberate theft. My guess is that The Button has been stolen. Let's reconstruct the crime."
"First, we stole The Button from Dr. Von Durfull," Davy said. "Next--"
"Not that crime," Micky broke in. "That was just a boyish prank. I'm talking about the crime where The Button was stolen back from us."
"Oh, that crime. Well, we were sitting around the pad having breakfast when there came a knock at the door. I opened it, and we found a mysterious stranger outside. Then there was some other stuff and some other stuff and some other stuff and then King Hiram found the lady midget's hat on the seat of the stagecoach."
"A likely story," Micky sneered. "Now, let's have the truth!"
"All right, I confess," Davy replied. "Peter chopped down the cherry tree."
"Me?" Peter objected.
"Think back," Davy said. "There was the cherry tree. There you were with an ax in your hand. Remember?"
Peter shook his head. "The only thing I can remember clearly is the Alamo," he said. "I'll never forget the Alamo."
"That's it! Of course!" Micky said. "That explains it! The Button is now in the possession of King Hiram and/or Dr. Von Durfull!" He smiled victoriously. "See what happens when you ask the wrong questions? You get the right answers. The system never fails."
"All right," Mike said, "now that we know where The Button is, what do we do?"
"Go back to the castle and get it and get tossed in a cell again," Peter replied.
"We've made that mistake often enough," Mike said. "Let's try something else."
"As I see it," Davy said, "our big problem is that King Hiram is the king. If he were just an ordinary everyday bloke like the rest of us he couldn't keep throwing us in the dungeon, could he? So-- although I wouldn't even suggest it under any other circumstances-- I propose that we overthrow the king."
"Overthrow?" Peter said doubtfully. "He's kind of big to throw overhand. Can't you think of something a little more underhanded?"
"That's exactly what I'm suggesting to you-- a revolution."
"That's underhanded enough," Micky agreed.
"We'll need some help," Mike said. "If we try to do it alone, the revolution is going to end up in the dungeon."
"Then, I suggest further," Davy said, "that we locate the nearest exclusive club frequented by the disgruntled rabble and exhort them to rise up against the usurper and strike him down."
"What he say?" Micky asked Mike.
"He didn't say," Mike replied.
The coffeehouse was crowded with patrons, the bulk of whom were in earnest conversation, discussuing such matters as instant versus percolated, homogenized milk versus cream versus evaporated milk, and one lump or two.
"This looks like the place," Davy said. "I'd better check, though."
Davy stopped at the table and addressed a young man with an old beard. "Does this place serve as an exclusive club for disgruntled rabble?" he asked.
"A little," the young man replied. "Mostly just coffee, though."
Davy reported to the other Monkees. "With a bit of developing, this can be the place," he advised them.
"What they need is a little pep talk," Micky said, becoming enthusiastic. He strode to a small platform at the far end of the coffeehouse, mounted it, and then faced the patrons.
"All right, you rabbits!" he called.
"Psssst! Rabble!" Davy corrected.
"Now hear this!" Micky exhorted, geting the attention of the customers. "Down with antidisestablishmentarianism!"
A great cheer rose from the rabble.
"Say something about the revolution," Davy suggested.
"I just wanted to get them in the mood," Micky replied. Again, he addressed the patrons. "It has come to my attention," he said, "that within days, hours, or possibly even minutes, Bellevue will become the most powerful nation on earth. Now, on the surface, that doesn't seem very serious. I mean, some nation has to be the most powerful on earth--why not Bellevue? But, I ask you: Do we want it to happen here?"
A young man in the audience raised his hand.
"Yes?" Micky asked.
"I want another cup of coffee," the young man replied.
"Very well put!" Micky said. "Fellow rabble," he continued, speaking to all the patrons again, "the question of cost has been raised. Can Bellevue afford to be the most powerful nation on earth? The starving poor all over the world will come begging to our doorstep for eggs! We work hard to lay our eggs! Do we want them to end up in the hands of strangers?"
The audience yawned.
"I think you're losing them," Mike said.
"Down with antidisestablishmentarianism!" Micky shouted.
Alert again, the audience cheered loudly.
"Turn Bellevue into the most powerful nation on earth and we'll be blamed for anything and everything that happens anywhere!!" Micky went on. "When the phones are out of order in Alleppey, India, who'll get the blame for it? Bellevue, that's who! Thousands of irate Indians will storm our consulate and burn it to the ground!"
"We'll get the cavalry after them," a young man said, bored.
"The revolution. Mention the revolution," Davy urged.
"Perhaps some of you are wondering why I am here," Micky continued. "You're probably asking yourselves, 'What is a brave, handsonme, intelligent young man like that doing here in the safety of this exclusive club for the disgruntled rabble, when he should be out leading--or at the very least participating in--the revolt against King Hiram?' Well, it's a good question. And, since you've brought it up, I think I have the right to ask the same question of you! So--how about it?"
A young lady rose to her feet. "Sugah, what's that ol' cutey-pie King Hiram evah done to us?" she asked.
"What's he ever done?" Micky responded, aghast. "Why, from the vert first, King Hiram has advocated antidisestablishmentarianism!"
A great roar of anger rose from the crowd.
"Down with the tyrant!" a young man shouted, smashing his coffee cup against a young lady he mistook for a fireplace.
"Up with the revolution!" Micky exhorted.
"Down with mistaking certain people for fireplaces!" a young lady cried.
"On to the castle!" Micky exhorted.
With the Monkees leading the way, the disgruntled rabble surged from the coffeehouse and marched, yelling slogans and tipping over trash cans, toward the castle.
"Isn't this getting a little out-of-hand?" Mike asked. "I had in mind something less violent. I thought maybe we could just make a phone call."
"King Hiram brought this on himself," Micky replied.
"What'd he do?" Davy asked.
"He kept his subjects from having phones."
"That's right. It is all his fault, come to think of it," Davy acknowledged."
As the raging crowd neared the castle, soldiers suddenly appeared at the gate. They raised their rifles.
"Halt--in the name of the king!" the leader of the soldiers shouted.
"Down with hired assassins!" Micky exhorted the disgruntled rabble.
The rabble, however, had stopped, subdued.
"Storm the gate!" Micky urged.
"I don't know," a young man said. "I don't mind smashing my coffee cup against a young lady I mistake for a fireplace, but goin' up against guys with guns, that's something different."
"This is a revolution," Micky said. "There's bound to be some risk."
"I knew it was gonna be a little risky for the king," the young man replied. "But I didn't have any idea that any of us might get hurt. You didn't mention that."
"How about this?" a young lady said. "Why don't we just go back and break up the coffeehouse? It'd be a lot safer."
"Down with the coffeehouse!" a young man shouted.
A cheer rose from the rabble.
"But... but... but!" Micky objected.
His protest was drowned out by the roar of the crowd as the rabble turned and made its way back toward the coffeehouse, shouting slogans and tipping over more trash cans as it surged through the streets.
"Well, that proves it," Mike said. "You can lead a rabble to the castle, but you can't get it past the gate without a ticket."
"But... but... but..." Micky said, "that's what I was trying to tell them. I have the tickets!"
"All right, why don't we use them ourselves?" Mike said. "We wanted to get into the castle anyway."
The Monkees approached the soldiers, and Micky held out the tickets. "Four on the center aisle," he said. "I hope the curtain hasn't gone up."
"'Fraid it has," the leader of the soldiers replied, accepting the tickets.
"Down with the curtain!" Davy shouted.
"Ho! You were with that rabble!" the soldier said. He turned his gun on the Monkees. "Hands up, now! King Hiram'll want to talk to you!"
"Is he still king?" Micky asked, surprised. "I heard there was a revolution."
"It got away," Davy said. He pointed in the direction the rabble had gone. "There it goes now!" he said.
"Where? Where?" the leader of the soldiers asked, looking around frantically.
"Follow that finger!" Davy said.
The leader of the soldiers started off, running down the street.
At the same time, the Monkees ran in the opposite direction, toward the castle.
"Seize 'em!" the leader shouted to the other soldiers, halting and whipping about, having suddenly realized that he was the victim of a clever ploy.
Shots rang out!
The Monkees dashed into the castle.
The soldiers raced after them.
The Monkees galloped up one corridor and down two corridors. Again, shots rang out. The soldiers were only paces behind them.
"That rabble was right, this could be dangerous," Mike said. "Let's find some place to hide until the thing blows over."
"In there!" Davy said, pointing.
Following Davy's finger, the Monkees rushed through a doorway. They slammed the door behind them. They found themselves in a large room that housed a great number of exhibits.
"Anybody know where we are?" Mike asked.
"It said
"That's it!" Micky said, inspecting one of the exhibits. "Here's King Hiram's baby shoes, all bronzed and everything."
"Boy, they sure are big," Peter said, amazed.
"They've grown," Micky explained. "It's been a long time since King Hiram was a baby."
"Look over here," Davy called from another section of the museum. "Here's the envelope Bellevue was stuck to before it became independent."
"Look at this!" Mike said. "Here's Princess Ellie Jo's sandbox when she was a little girl."
Davy, Micky, and Peter rushed over to see the sandbox.
"Look at all that sand!" Davy said, impressed. "It's almost as big as a desert!"
Peter clutched at his throat. "Water! Water!"
Davy wiped his brow. "That devilish sun! I can't stand it!" he sobbed.
"I can't go on!" Micky panted. "Water! Will we never reach the oasis? Are we destined to perish in this wasteland? Water!"
Mike handed him a pistol.
"What's this for?" Micky asked.
"You get a choice," Mike replied. "You can end it all or quench your thirst. It's a water pistol."
"Why must there always be these decisions, decisions, desicions!" Micky wept.
At that instant the door burst open and the persuing soldiers rushed into the room.
The Monkees jumped behind the sandbox.
"Seize 'em!" the leader of the soldiers shouted.
"Not so fast!" Micky cried. He sprayed the soldiers with a half dozen rounds from the water pistol.
Two soldiers fell, soaked to the skin, and the others scattered and ducked behind the various exhibits.
"I'll make a deal with you!" the leader of the soldiers called out from behind King Hiram's bronzed baby shoes. "Come out with your hands up!"
"You forgot to mention the rest of the deal," Mike replied.
"I didn't forget," the leader of the soldiers said. "If I told you the rest of the deal, you wouldn't be interested."
"Water!" Peter gasped.
"We're saving it for the pistol," Micky replied.
"I'm getting delirious," Davy said, staring vacantly across the sand. "I see a mirage!"
Micky squinted into the sun. "I see it, too," he said. "Thats' a '27 Ford parked in it, isn't it?"
"Mirage not garage," Davy said.
"Same thing," Micky replied. "There wouldn't be a garage out in the middle of the sandbox, so it must be a mirage."
"I'll make you another deal!" the leader of the soldiers called.
"We're not interested!" Micky replied. "We'll die before we surrender!"
"I don't care about you," the leader of the soldiers said. "I've got my eye on that '27 Ford you've got over there in that mirage. What're you asking?"
"The heat's getting him," Micky said to the other Monkees. "Maybe we can disguise ourselves as camels and slip through his lines."
"I say let's jump in that Ford and give 'er the gun!" Davy said.
"Psssst!" a voice behind them hissed.
"What was that?" Peter said, startled.
"That was a psssst!" Mike replied. "Don't pay any attention to it. This sand is crawling with them."
"Psssst!" the voice hissed again.
Whipping around, Micky aimed the pistol in the direction of the sound. But he did not fire. He noticed that a secret panel had opened in the wall.
"Psssst!" the voice hissed once more.
"Guys, what sound does a secret panel make?" Micky asked.
The others turned and stared at the opening.
From the darkness came a voice. "Dumplin's, ain't none of you-all gonna come when I say psssst?" it asked.
"It's the egg lady!" Micky cried happily.
The Monkees dashed from their hiding place behind the sandbox. They raced through the opening. The secret panel closed behind them. Suddenly they were in total darkness.
"We sure want to thank you for coming to our rescue, Princess," Mike said. "How'd you find us out there in that vast wasteland?"
"Never mind that now, dumplin'," the princess replied. "What's important is to get you where that ol' button is. You just follow me."
"We can't see you," Micky said. "It's too dark."
"I'll blush up a little light," the princess said.
She led the way up a stairs, and the Monkees trailed after her, guided by her blush.
"Where is The Button?" Mike asked.
"That ol' Dr. Von Durfull's got it again, sugar," the princess answered.
"But not for long," Mike said confidently. "This time, we'll hang on to it. Now, here's the plan," he continued, addressing the other Monkees. "As soon as we get The Button back, we'll take careful pains to avoid all flocks of geese and lady midgets who look like small tables with flowerpots on top."
"And what then?" Davy asked.
"That's the part of the plan that hasn't been worked out yet," Mike replied. "We'll have tp play it by ear."
"Say, doesn't this stairway look a little familiar?" Davy said. "The steps are the same as the one that leads to King Hiram's private chamber."
"How could that be?" Micky said. "Would the princess leads us to King Hiram's private chamber, where he might be waiting to seize us and hold us incommunicado until after he completed taking over the world?"
"Gee, I don't know; that's a puzzler," Mike said. "Ask her."
"Princess," Micky asked, "would youlead us to King Hiram's private chamber, where he might be waiting to seize us and hold us incommunicado until after he completed taking over the world?"
The princess laughed gaily. "What a question!" she said. "Think about it. Would I lead you to the king's private chamber, where he might be waiting to seize you and hold you incommuni-whatsis until after he completed taking over the world?"
"What'd she say?" Mike asked Micky.
"It wasn't what she said, it was the way she said it," Micky replied. "I don't think she understood the question."
"Ask her again," Mike suggested.
"Princess--" Micky began.
"Look! Up ahead! Light!" Davy broke in.
"It looks like a hole in a door," Peter said.
"And familiar, too," Davy said. "In fact, it looks exactly like the hole we busted in the door to the king's private chamber when we broke out of that other secret passageway!"
"Couldn't be," Micky said. "We entered this secret passageway from the museum. The entrance to that other secret passageway was in the library."
"I've got it!" Peter said.
"What?" the other Monkees asked in unison.
"The entrance through which we entered this secret passageway this time wasn't an entrance. It was an exit," Peter replied.
"That's it!" Micky said, alarmed. "I think we've been--"
"Double-crossed!" a voice finished for him.
The door with the hole in it had opened. And standing before them was King Hiram. And beside him was H. P. I. Smith.
Micky turned to Mike. "Do you suppose the princess was hedging when she declined to give me a straight answer to whether she was leading us to the king's private chamber, where he might be waiting to seize us and hold us incommunicado until after he completed taking over the world?" he asked.
"After all she's done for us?" Mike replied. "You sure are a fair-weather believer."
"In!" King Hiram commanded, stepping back and motioning the Monkees through the door into his private chamber.
"I don't care; I'm going to get this settled for once and all," Micky said. He faced the princess. "The truth now," he said. "Were you hedging?"
"A princess don't hedge, dumplin'," she replied. "Paw had it right. I was out an' out double-crossin' you boys."
"Boy, that's a relief." Micky sighed. "I don't think I could ever trust you again if I found out you were hedging."
"Would it be too much to ask if I asked you why you double-crossed us?" Mike asked to Princess Ellie Jo.
"Well, first, 'cause you're born losers," she replied. "And any ol' fool knows that losers don't win ball games."
"I know that." King Hiram nodded.
"And, second," the princess continued, "you-all know what I told you about how terrible it was gonna be when Paw took over the world and everybody on earth had nothin', the same as us in Bellevue, and nothin' wouldn't be worth a hoot nor a holler in a rain barrel after that, status-wise? Well, Paw's done promised me that, after the takeover, me bein' a princess, I'll be entitled to everything instead of nothin'. Just so I'll stand out and won't be mistook for some common, ordinary, everyday, run-of-the-mill person."
"Everything?" Micky said dubiously.
"Everything," the princess repeated. "I'll have me an automobile for every day of the week, and an electric toothbrush for every tooth."
"Just carryin' on tradition," King Hiram said fondly. "I gave her a sandbox when she was a little kid."
"I'm even gonna have a telephone," Princess Ellie Jo said. "I reckon you can guess what style it'll be."
Micky got out the water pistol. "Men," he said, addressing the other Monkees, "we have failed in our mission. Now there is only one honorable thing left for us to do."
"I'm ready," Mike said.
"This is a far, far wetter thing we do than we have ever done before," Davy said bravely.
"Could you hold it up a couple minutes?" Peter asked. "I'm not quite ready."
Micky smiled hopefully. "You have some alternative in mind?"
"No; you can get on with the shooting in a minute or so," Peter replied. "I just need some time to locate a dictionary and look up the word 'incommunicado.'"
"Try the library," Mike suggested.
"Right through the secret passageway." Micky pointed.
Peter headed for the opening.
"Halt, you-all!" King Hiram commanded.
"Right. What's your hurry?" Mike said to Peter. "Don't go without us." He turned to King Hiram to explain. "He can't be trusted alone in a library," he said, indicating Peter. "If we're not with him to keep an eye on him he always cuts a finger on page six forty-eight."
"That's the page that has the definition for 'knife,'" Micky said.
Davy, Micky, and Mike followed Peter toward the opening.
"Halt! Halt! Halt! Halt!" King Hiran shouted.
Ignoring the command, the Monkees dashed into the passageway.
They collided with the soldiers who, having found the secret panel, had arrived from the museum.
The Monkees bounced off the soldiers, stumbled back through the opening, quickly regained their balance, turned, and raced to the doorway that led to the corridor. Mike, in the lead, whipped open the door. The Monkees charged through the opening. They collided with the guards the king had stationed in the corridor, bounced off, stumbled back through the opening, failed to regain their balance, and collapsed in a heap at the king's feet.
"We'll make a deal with you," Mike said, looking up.
"Unconditional surrender; that's all I'll accept," King Hiram growled.
"That's what you get when you make snap decisions," Mike said. "If you'd dickered a little, you could have had yourself a '27 Ford."
"Yeah... and a mirage to keep it in," Peter added.
Thus, hoping to start a revolution in Bellevue and overthrow King Hiram, thereby regaining possession of The Button, the Monkees entered the town and made their way to the nearest coffeehouse.
Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3
Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6
Chapter 7 / Chapter 8
