CHAPTER 1

In the Wizard's Workroom

IN the Emerald City of Oz stands Ozma's palace. In
a high tower of the palace is a workshop. Here the
Wizard of Oz, a great magician, makes the tools for
his magic. His helper is Number Nine, a bright blue--
faced boy from the land of the Munchkins.
The sun was already up, sparkling on the many
gems and precious stones of the Emerald City, when
Number Nine came up the palace stairs. The large
emeralds set in the walls and towers of the city made
a soft green glow.
	Number Nine began to pant as he climbed the pal-
ace stairs to the highest tower. Reaching the top, he
paused for breath. A voice came at him:
	"Three minutes, four-and-a-half seconds late!"
Number Nine turned to see who was scolding him.
It was a tall clock that stood in the hallway.
	"You'll have to be more prompt!" the Clock went
on, pointing its hands at Number Nine. "You're al-
ways late, and it's got to stop1"
	"Why don't you stop?" Number Nine said good-
naturedly.
	"What good would I be if I stopped?" answered
the Clock crossly.
Number Nine said, "You can't alarm me. You aren't
an alarm clock!"
T	he boy started toward the door of the Wizard's
workroom. But the Clock thumped after him, remain-
ing at his heels and continuing its scolding.
	"Three minutes, four-and-a-half seconds! The Wiz-
ard won't stand for it!"
	Number Nine was already taking off his coat and
rolling up his sleeves. He tried to slip through the
workroom door, but the angry clock pushed at him.
	"Get out of my way," cried the boy. "I have work
to do."
	"Not until you promise to be like me--right up to
the minute!"
	"Instead of talking, you should be ticking," Num-
ber Nine said. Then he quickly opened the workroom
door and shut it in the clock's face.
Inside, the boy saw the Wizard quietly at work.
The room was filled with apparatus, magical tools,
vials, and other paraphernalia. In the center stood
one of the Wizard's most important inventions. It
was a large teletable, equipped with a compound ga-
zabo, goggle-optics, and a trumpet eye. With this
machine, one could see and hear to any part of the
Land of Oz, and the stars beyond. It was very useful
in locating missing things and people.
	"Good morning," the Wizard said. He was a short,
round man with a bald head and a remarkable twin-
kle in his eye.
	"I'm a little late," Number Nine apologized. "But
I couldn't get my blue mule to walk fast"
	The Wizard chuckled. "Still riding that slowpoke?"
	"He's a good mule," Number Nine said. "But the
trouble is, he stops to talk to everyone on the way."
	"A regular blue freak, eh?" said the Wizard.
Just then the clock's face appeared at the open
transom above the door.
	"Three minutes, four-and-a-half seconds late!"
	"Go away!" Number Nine called. "What makes you
so cranky?"
	"I'm wound with a crank," the clock answered
proudly. "A tick-lish business, too."
	Tired of talking with the clock, the boy turned back
to the Wizard. But the little man no longer there.
He had vanished quietly through the window.
	"Get to work," advised the clock. "I'll stay here
and oversee you."
	"Why don't you just overlook me?" said Number
Nine, as he began to work.
First he took a broom and swept the floor. There
was a litter of star-and-diamond dust left from one
of the Wizard's experiments. As the boy worked, a
shiny wastebasket jumped out of the corner and fol-
lowed him around. From time to time it lay on its
side to allow Number Nine to sweep the dust into it.
In a few minutes the floor was clean.
	The wastebasket returned to its corner and Num-
ber Nine took up a dust cloth. He went to the tele-
table and carefully dusted the fine gear wheels and
levers, the dials, and the wonderful trumpet eye. When
one placed his ear to it, one could see far-off. And
by putting one's eye to it, one could hear far-off. He
dusted and polished the swinging telescope mirrors.
He tightened the silencer caps on the loud-speaker
tanks, so no noise could leak out.
	All this time the clock watched the worker. But
Number Nine was doing his work faithfully. At last
the clock yawned loudly, slid down from the door,
and marched back to its corner.
	Just then Number Nine noticed an ozmic ray ly-
ing on the teletable. It was a short line of light not
coming from anywhere. "I'll take this home for my
thirteen sisters and brothers to play with," Number
Nine said, reaching for the ray. But it jumped from
his hand. At the same time the trumpet eye began
to buzz.
	Dropping everything, the boy placed his ear to the
trumpet and watched the screen of the teletable. An
image appeared there. It became clearer. He saw a
high, carrot-shaped mountain. The top appeared cov-
ered with a red glass dome. Everything around was
red, so Number Nine knew that he was looking at
the land of the Quadlings, to the south of Oz. Mov-
ing the lever, he brought the image close. Now he
could see inside the red glass dome. There was the
Wizard, talking to Tik-Tok, a copper mechanical man.
Tik-Tok seemed pleased, for there was a bright smile
on his copper face.
	Number Nine didn't want to listen to other peo-
ple's conversation. He was just lowering the lever to
shut out the image, when he saw something peculiar
on the screen. He heard his own name mentioned.
"Number Nine won't be late to work any more,"
the Wizard was saying. "For he won't have to ride
his blue mule. This new invention of mine will put
all mules out of work."
	As Number Nine tuned out this scene, he could not
believe his trumpet eye.
	The Wizard's newest invention was the strangest
thing he had ever seen.

CHAPTER 2

The Scalawagons of Oz

THEY'RE better than blue mules, don't you think?"
the Wizard went on to Tik-Tok, as the two stood
under the glass dome of the Carrot Mountain.
	"Bet-ter-and-more-beau-ti-ful," tocked the mechan-
ical man. There was joy in his voice.
	The two were standing in a large room. All around
them stood brightly colored little motor cars.
	"Yes," said the Wizard, "these scalawagons can do
more than blue mules. Just think, there'll be a free
taxi for everyone in Oz!"
	"And-those-with-spiked-wheels-will-be-trac-tors-
for-the-farm-ers," said Tik-Tok.
	"What's more," went on the Wizard, rubbing his
hands with satisfaction, "when you extend their run-
ning boards to the breeze, you have excellent glid-
ers!"
	"Mar-vel-ous," ticked the copper man.
	"But that isn't all," the Wizard continued, opening
the door of one of the scalawagons. "Look here."
Tik-Tok bent to see what the Wizard was pointing
at. "With this rubber foam on the inside, they'll be
comfortable on rough roads. They're absolutely un-
breakable. And their motors are no bigger than
goose eggs."
	"Con-grat-u-la-tions!"
	The Wizard's eyes were sparkling. "Look at this
center button. Just push it, and out comes LUNCH!
Think of it! People will go on picnics in lunch wag-
ons!"
	"Re-mark-able!"
	The little Wizard was beaming so hard that his
bald head glistened. "I've explained how to pound
sense into them. Then they'll know enough to obey
traffic rules. And they won't need garages, for they'll
understand how to keep out of danger."
	"In-deed!"
	"Tik-Tok, I appoint you Superintendent of this
Scalawagon Factory. For with your mechanical brain,
you understand such things."
	"I-am-proud-of-my-re-spon-Si-bil-i-ty," Tik-Tok
said, lifting his metal chest.
	"Promptly at six o'clock tomorrow, our gracious
Queen Ozma, will see our surprise," said the Wizard
happily.
	"This~will-please-her-bet-ter-than-all-your-for-mer-
in-ven-tions."
	"It was really Number Nine who gave me the idea,
though he-doesn't know it. That slow blue mule of
his-"
	"Look-out!" warned Tik-Tok.
	The Wizard looked up in time to see a dark, bird-
shaped object winging around his head.
	"It's nothing to get in a flutter about," he said
quietly. "Only a peli-can trying to fill the tank with
motor-fluid."
	As he spoke, the peli-can swooped down and thrust
its straight beak into a scalawagon's tank. As the tank
filled, the scalawagon reared up on its hind wheels,
its engine spitting.
	"You're getting it too full," the Wizard said to the
peli-can; whereupon the creature flew back to its
shelf.
	"Great-bolts-and-riv-ets!" exclaimed the mechani-
cal man.
	"Now you know how the tanks are filled," said the
Wizard. He pointed to a large drum in the corner.
"But let me warn you: NEVER TOUGH THE FLAB-
BER-GAS!"
	"Why?" asked the mechanical man.
	But there was no answer.
	The Wizard had vanished.

CHAPTER 3

Tik-Tok Sets to Work

NOW, let me see," said Tik-Tok to himself. "What-
sign-is-there-that-I-am-Sup-er-in-tend-ent-of-
this-Scalawagon-Factory? Hm-that's-what-I-need: a-
sign."
		He looked around, every little wheel in him click-
ing with excitement. Near the desk he found painting
materials---a brush, some colors, and a drawing board.
With green paint he lettered a sign:

		TIK-TOK,
		MANAGER-IN-CHIEF

	"I-guess-that's-on-the-right-tack," he said, as he
hung it on the factory door. Then, remembering what
the Wizard had told him, he made a second sign:

		HANDS OFF-DON'T TOUCH

	He placed this sign near the drum filled with the
dangerous flabber-gas.
	"I~don't-know-just-what-can-hap-pen-and-I'm-not-
go-ing-to-find-out," he said, backing away from the
drum.
	Meanwhile, more scalawagons came rolling out
from a door marked PRODUCTION ROOM at the
side of the factory. The floor was soon covered with
the small new cars. Tik-Tok stepped quickly to the
door and closed it.
	From behind the closed door there came a clanking
noise like that of crumpling fenders.
	"Oh-my-oh-my-they're-pil-ing-up-in-side,"  c r i e d
Tik-Tok.
	He looked around and saw a lever sticking through
the wall of the Production Room. Hurriedly he pushed
down the lever. The clanking and crashing stopped.
	Tik-Tok nodded with satisfaction. "My-fine-mech-
an-i-cal-brain-is-work-ing-well-this-morn-ing."
28
	The scalawagons filled the floor space and shone in
a variety of colors. They were very much alike. Built
into their tops were small turrets, with hinged lids.
	Tik-Tok touched the nearest scalawagon and tried
to open its lids. But they could not be moved. Then
Tik-Tok went to a chest and took out a hammer. It
was made of rubber. He tapped gently on the turret
of the scalawagon, murmuring,
	"I've-got-to-knock-some-sense-in-to-your-head."
	The result was surprising. The scalawagon's lids
swung open, revealing a pair of large, straight-for-
ward looking eyes. The eyes were filled with sense
and good humor.
	Tik-Tok pounded the turrets of the other scalawag-
ons, until all lids were open, and hundreds of scala-
wagon eyes were fixed on him. Some gave the copper
man a friendly wink. Tik-Tok could not return the
wink, for his own lids were riveted in place.
	"I-want-you-all-to-feel-wel-come-here," Tik - Tok
ticked quickly. His inner machinery was running at
high speed with his excitement. Every cog and wheel
inside him was strained to the limit. But he did not
notice this.
	"There's-a-dull-look-ing-one," he said. Going to a
scalawagon, he gave it a smart blow with his hammer.
Immediately the scalawagon brightened.
	There was no doubt that the Wizard had chosen the
best person in Oz as manager. Everything about Tik-
Tok was mechanical, even his inclinations. And he
was a tireless worker. With one hand he lifted a scala-
wagon and placed it on a scale. "Twenty-five-pounds,"
he said to himself. Replacing it, he went on:
	"No-won-der-the-Wiz-ard-is-won-der-ful.-He's-al-
ways-per-form-ing-won-ders."
	He saw a scalawagon looking sleepy, and going to
it, smacked it so hard that it fell on its side. When
he righted it, he saw a look of amazement in its large
blue eyes.
	"Kind-ly-come-to-your-senses," said Tik-Tok.
With his rubber hammer under his arm, Tik-Tok
went about examining the cars. With a tap here and
a smack there, he got them all in condition. At last
he was satisfied, and started to tell them so. But the
strain of the work was telling on his copper consti-
tution. His machinery was running more and more
slowly.
Grasping his rubber hammer, Tik-Tok placed his
feet firmly on the floor and leaned against the open
door. The door was close to the edge of the steep car-
rot-shaped mountain.
	He tried to speak, but after a few faint clicks he
became rigid.
	He had worked too hard and was completely run-
down.

CHAPTER 4

In Lolly-Pop Village

WHILE Tik-Tok stood helpless, the day brightened
about Carrot Mountain and the land of Oz that
spread all around. To the north, through the bright air,
the Emerald City glittered in green splendor. Beyond
lay the purple land of the Gillikans. To the east, in a
yellow glow, was the land of the Winkies. To the
west, a blue haze revealed the Munchkin country.
And all around them, spread like a red quilt, the land
of the Quadlings. In these countries, people and
things were all of one color-purple, yellow, blue, or
red.
	Close by the base of Carrot Mountain ran a red
road. On this road was the castle of Glinda, the fair
sorceress who ruled the Quadlings. The road ended
in a curious little village. It was on this village that
Tik-Tok's eyes were fixed. His last thought, before
his machinery had ceased, had been: "If-only-some-
one-there-could-help!"
	The village had only six houses, and a sign-post
which read:
			THE LOLLY-POPS
	Just as the new day was brightening, the doors of
all the houses burst open, and six little Lollies pushed
their six Pops out into the street. The Lollies were
no older than five years, with pink, chubby hands and
sweet faces. Their Pops were lazy old fellows, who
stood in the middle of the road, leaning together. No
one thought of looking up at Carrot Mountain. Even
if they had, they would not have been able to see Tik-
Tok.
	One Lolly, a determined tot, stood in the doorway
with her hands on her hips, calling,
	"Go along now, Pop. With the wash to be done,
you can't sit on my washtub any longer!"
	"Aw, now, Minty," said the old fellow, "1et me just
loll along in my own way! If only you weren't so pep-
pery, but sweet, like your cousin Scotchy."
	"That butter-ball! Pooh. At least I'm not a sour-
face, like my lemon-flavored cousin. Or always black
in the face, like Choco."
	Pop shook his head and began to shuffle down the
road. When he got to the sign-post, he was joined
by the other Pops, who had been pushed out of their
houses by their industrious daughters. The six lazy
old fellows leaned against each other, remaining Si-
lent. They knew that their talk had no flavor.
	Meanwhile, the Lollies got busy with their house-
work. Minty, who seemed the most industrious Lolly
in the village, took a bucket and started up the road.
The five other Lollies came out of their houses, each
with a bucket on her head, and followed Minty.
	They came to a broad red brook, shaded by red
pine trees. From out of the brook came a lively, low
music. The Lollies knelt and dipped their buckets.
No water, but a host of tiny water fairies floated into
the buckets. As the Lollies lifted their filled buckets
and started back, the water fairies put their bright
little heads over the edges and smiled delightedly at
getting a ride.
	Little Minty was the first to reach home. She went
directly into the living room. There she lowered her
bucket, and with a swish, spread the water fairies all
over the room. They rippled across the rug and into
every corner. As they leaped to their feet, they gath-
ered every speck of dust and dirt.
	Then the fairies started for the door. Their faces
and arms were covered with grey and pink dust
streaks. As they reached the doorway, Minty held her
bucket down and caught every one of them. Next she
went to the kitchen, where she again tumbled the
fairies over the floor. Again they set to work gather-
ing up the dust and dirt. When they were ready to
hop back into the bucket, they seemed made of mud.
	'I can't get any more cleaning from such soiled lit-
tle fairies," Minty said. "Back to the brook you go!"
	Carrying the bucketful of fairies, Minty returned
to the brook. The shade was pleasant under the red
trees, and the red water sang delightfully.
	Gently, Minty stooped and lowered the bucket, let-
ting the fairies escape. They slipped into the water
and quickly washed themselves clean. No sooner were
they clean, than they began to scramble back into the
bucket. They were ready to do more work. But Minty
had had enough of housework. She shooed the fairies
back into the brook, overturned her bucket, and sat
on it. She was careful to keep her feet out of the
water, for she did not care to dissolve.
	Just then a pompous red bull-frog came strutting
along the opposite bank-- He was singing at the bot-
tom of his deep voice. A gold watch-chain swung from
his pocket, and this seemed to make him feel impor-
tant
	Abruptly, the bull-frog's song ended. His legs shot
into the air. He tumbled backward, and disappeared
beneath the water. Red bubbles rose to the surface.
Then came mischievous laughter, and two boy kelpies
slid through the brook and scampered behind the wa-
terfall. Their small, horse-like bodies were well out of
sight when the bull-frog came up.
	"Who's trifling with my dignity?" said the frog.
He began to strut once more, but when he discov-
ered that his gold watch-chain was gone, he became
exceedingly angry. He drew himself up to his full
height and shook his fist at the waterfall. In reply
he heard only the laughter of the kelpies and the
singing of the brook. Then the frog became discour-
aged. He stuck his head into the sand and left his
feet sticking straight up.
	By this time, the other Lollies had finished their
housework and came trooping to the brook. Empty-
ing their buckets of water fairies, they sat down like
Minty in the cool red shade. The singing of the brook
was like a concert, and the Lollies enjoyed listening.
The water fairies joined in the singing. The music
was so lively that the bull-frog pulled his head out of
the sand. His sadness was forgotten, and he began
to croak in his deep bass voice.
	"I wish I could stay here all day," sighed Minty.
"But there's supper to make. Pop would starve if I
didn't remind him to eat."
	Saying this, she got to her feet The other Lollies
followed her example. They went marching down the
road to their houses. In a few minutes smoke was curl-
ing from every chimney. Delicious odors filled the
air. When the meals were ready, each Lolly went to
the village sign-post to fetch her Pop. The lazy old
creatures had not stirred from their positions all day.
Some had had their legs melted a little in the noon-
day sun. They stuck fast to the road, and their daugh-
ters had to push them hard to get them going.
	"Come on, Pop," urged Minty. "Why do you lean
on me as if I were a cane? You must hurry. I know
what you need-a hurri-cane!"
	Lolly's Pop spoke sadly, "I'm not pop-ular any more.
Why was I made licorice? It blackens my thoughts."
	"Never mind, daddy," said Lolly. "You're not licked
yet."
		The six Lollies, pushing their Pops, reached home
and sat down to their meals. The village was quiet
in the red light of sunset. No one was in sight.
		Suddenly there came a startling scream.
		"BELL-SNICKLE!"
		The alarm brought every front door open. Six lit-
tle Lollies ran up the road, swinging hot spoons.
		"BELL-SNICKLE, BELL-SNICKLE!" the warning
voice kept screeching.
		At the end of the street was a large bluish-green
object, flat as a buckwheat cake, and rolling along
on its edge like a cartwheel. Bells were fastened to
its ears, and as it rolled, the bells tinkled.
		"Surround him!" shouted Minty.
		The Lollies tried to make a circle, hitting out with
their spoons. But the Bell-snickle was too fast for the
little Lollies. One girl threw her spoon at him. It
struck the Snickle full in the center, and he fell over
with a grunt But at once he was up, on edge, and
running faster than ever. He snatched up the spoon
and threw it back at the Lolly. A shower of hot spoons
came at him, but he caught them all and threw them
back.
		As the missiles came sailing back, the Lollies turned
and ran for their lives. They did not stop running
until they were safe in their houses. Then the Bell-
snickle threw the last spoon through a second-story
window, and went rolling on his way.
	Squeezing through a crack in a high fence, he took
the short cut past the singing brook and continued
onward. He rolled from one clump of bushes to the
next, past huge red rocks, and toward the foot of Car-
rot Mountain.
	As he rolled, the Snickle's bells were heard in Lolly-
Pop Village. As long as this sound hung in the air,
no one dared come out of doors.
	Meanwhile the Snickle kept talking furiously to
himself.
	"They almost found me out! But they didn't. They
never will. I'm a Mystery. I intend to remain a Mys-
tery!"
	He reached the Carrot Mountain and began rolling
up it, still talking to himself.
	"I've never had my picture in the newspaper, or on
a postcard. Or in any picture book. And I NEVER
WILL! I'm a Mystery, I am!"
	As he mounted the mountain, his progress was
slower. He was no longer rolling, but climbing. There
was no path. A tangle of vines grew part-way up the
steep Carrot Mountain. He hung on with his curly
fingers and toes. Rocks and precipices made his ascent
harder, but the Snickle clung like a postage stamp.
	Sometimes he had to hang by the hook of his nose
in a crack in the cliff until his feet had found a hold.
Darkness came on, and the top of the mountain was
still far up. But the determined Bell-snickle kept
climbing, up to the red glass dome on the summit.

CHAPTER 5

The Snickle Snoops

IT was daybreak when the Bell-snickle reached the
red glass dome on top of Carrot Mountain. His all-
night climb had tired him, but as soon as he saw the
Scalawagon Factory, he forgot to be tired and became
a mass of curiosity. His slanty eyes saw on the back
door of the factory a sign:
			
			KEEP OUT

Of course this made the Snickle want to get in. But
from the rear the red glass dome looked tightly closed.
Wriggling his twisty fingers, he found a window sash
that was not locked. He pushed it up a quarter of
an inch. This was enough for the Snickle to slip
through, sideways. When his flat body was inside,
he lay on the floor with his ears stretched out, listen-
ing.
	Not a sound. The Snickle's ears strained so hard
that they grew longer. But all was quiet. Still alert,
he crouched under one of the many shiny scalawagons
that covered the floor. No matter what happened, he
HAD to know what was going on.
Darting from car to car, the Snickle came to the
other side of the factory.
	"This place is a mystery, and I won't have anything
a mystery but ME!" the Snickle said under his breath.
For all his snooping, the inquisitive Bell-snickle
could learn nothing. Everything was silent. Even the
bells on his own ears were silent. At last the Snickle
became angry, and gave a tremendous roar. The win-
dows rattled, then it was quiet again.
	The Snickle gave another roar, and another, keep-
ing it up until the place seemed filled with thunder.
Still nothing happened.
	Then the Snickle began a moaning noise, so hideous,
that the peli-cans became alarmed. Unfolding their
wings, they flew wildly around the room.
	"Aha!" cried the Snickle. "I thought so. Trying to
discover my mystery, aren't you! Out of here, every
one of you!"
	Throwing open the back door, the Snickle tried to
shoo the peli-cans out of the building. They flew back
and hid, out of reach.
	Then the Snickle REALLY began to snoop. He
snooped so thoroughly that no corner was left un-
explored.
	And finally he found something that stopped him
-Tik-Tok, the copper manager.
Tik-Tok was standing motionless, as he had been
when he ran down. He was in the doorway, danger-
ously near the edge of the precipice. Snickle watched
cautiously, to see what the copper man would do. See-
ing him remain motionless, the Snickle began to roll
closer.
	First he quacked like a duck, then he grunted like
a pig. But the copper figure did not move or pay the
slightest attention.
Closer and closer snooped the Snickle.
	"Another mystery!" he said angrily. "And I won't
have any mystery but ME."
Then the Snickle let out an ear-splitting screech.
He was trying to frighten Tik-Tok, as he had fright-
ened the peli-cans. But still the copper figure did not
move.
	Overcoming his caution, Snick rolled up close to the
copper man.
	"Wake up, there!" he shouted, and smacked a cop-
per leg with one of his ears.
	Tik-Tok moved slightly. The dead machinery with-
in him whirred and again stopped. He was quite run
down. Until somebody wound him up, he would never
speak or move again. But the Snickle did not know
this. He thought Tik-Tok was being stubborn, and
growing angrier, he smacked the other copper leg.
Crash! Tik-Tok fell to the floor. The Snickle pushed
him with an ear, and Tik-Tok bounced off the cliff,
and fell down the mountainside.
	It was a fearfully long drop. Tik-Tok did not stop
falling until he hit the red road. Then he began to
roll toward the village of the Lolly-Pops. He rolled
right up to Minty's house.
	"That will wake up the stubborn fellow," said the
Snickle, as he leaned watching. "And give those Lol-
lies something to worry about, too."
	Then the Snickle turned his attention to the factory.
There was nobody else about.
	"I guess I'm Manager here now," he said with sat-
isfaction.
	He set about tearing down all Tik-Tok's signs and
hurling them over the mountain. Then he tried every
button and lever. But nothing happened.
	Going up to a scalawagon, the Snickle looked into
the startled eyes.
	"Stop looking at me. I want to remain a Mystery!"
growled the Bell-snickle.
	The scalawagon gently shut its eyes.
Bell-snickle noticed a small metal cap on the top
of the turret. He read aloud, "FOR PELI-CAN MO-
TOR FLUID".
	"Let's see what this is all about," he said, unscrew-
ing the cap. All he discovered was a small, empty
tank.
	"Must find something to fill it," he said.
	He went snooping all around, looking on the high
shelves and in all the tool chests. At last he found
something that made him grunt with satisfaction.
	It was the drum filled with the dangeorus flabber-
gas.
	"Ugh! What oily stuff. But maybe it will make
those little cars go," the meddler said to himself.
	He proceeded to fill the tanks of several scala-
wagons. while doing so, he accidentally smeared him-
self with the oily flabber-gas. By the time the last car
was filled, the Snickle felt queer inside.
	The scalawagons became restless. One by one, they
reared up and pranced like frightened horses.
	The Bell-snickle paid no attention, but went on
with his work. The confusion grew worse. A couple
of scalawagons near the open door suddenly leaped
out, and went sailing around the mountain. Then
others spread their running boards like wings and
floated out of the factory.
	SCRUNCH! Red glass began falling about the
Snickle's head. Two scalawagons had collided in mid-
air and broken through the glass dome. The remain-
ing scalawagons were thrown into a panic. Their
wide open eyes were filled with terror. Besides, the
gas seemed to be flabbergasting them, for they began
to rear and plunge and run in circles. They became
entangled with each other, and many a fender crashed
and threw the cars into more disorder.
	The Bell-snickle was knocked flat. The scalawagons
ran over him, rolling him flatter. They soaked him
full of flabber-gas
	Finally, the sense that Tik-Tok had pounded into
the scalawagons seemed to work. They ceased their
wild running around and made straight for the door.
Spreading their running boards like huge wings, the
cars sailed away from Carrot Mountain.
	The unconscious Snickle lay on the floor of the de-
serted factory. when his senses came back, he strug-
gled to get up. The flabber-gas had begun to work
in him, and when he tore himself from the floor and
stood on edge once more, he was no longer flat like
a buckwheat cake.
	The Snickle had begun to swell and broaden like a
giant balloon!
	"Hey, hey," he cried, beating his sides. He tried in
vain to keep himself from growing fatter. He was
more flabbergasted than the scalawagons.
	Suddenly Bell-snickle began to rise, like a balloon.
"Hey, hey, where am I going?" he shouted. But
there was no one to hear him.
	Through the door he sailed, out into the air, kick-
ing and reaching for something to hold on to. There
was nothing but a cloud that scurried out of his way.
Across the sky went the Snickle, swelling bigger.
	"Help! I think I'm going to burst!" he wailed.
	Soon the Snickle was out of sight. Now a restless
pushing and scraping came from the high shelves
where the peli-cans were hiding. Moving uneasily,
some left their roosts and sailed slowly around.
	They missed the scalawagons and felt nervous in
the deserted factory. Soon, with one accord, they
swooped out of the door. They flew in the direction
that the scalawagons had flown, to the outer border
of Oz toward the Sandy Waste.
	Now, beyond this Sandy Waste was a land inhabited
by a tribe of wicked creatures known as Mifkits. If
the scalawagons crossed this Sandy Waste, they would
surely fall into the power of the Mifkits. And so would
the foolish peli-cans, flying desperately after the scala-
wagons.
	A wind was blowing behind the flock of peli-cans,
speeding them onward. In no time at all they were
far from Carrot Mountain. Looking down, they could
see no more of their own colorful, safe country of Oz.
They saw only a burning waste, with ugly shapes of
darkness. The peli-cans were frightened, but they
felt that they must find the scalawagons. On and on
they flew, over the great desert.
	They saw a mass of colored objects below them, and
descending, came upon the fly-away scalawagons.
	The scalawagons were no longer using the sense
that Tik-Tok had knocked into them. They were the
most confused auto cars that ever were. Higgledy-
piggledy, tumbling and bumping and turning somer-
saults in the air, they descended closer to the desert
sands.
	The peli-cans tried to fly under the scalawagons
and shoo them back toward Oz. But the scalawagons
were larger and more numerous, and their whirlwind
flight could not be altered.
	Suddenly a scalawagon fell among some rocks, and
turned over on its back. Before it could rise again,
a brown, misshapen Mifkit had jumped out of hiding,
climbed into the car and was carried on to the desert
when the scalawagon wriggled back on its wheels.
	From all the rocks other Mifkits were watching
and waiting.
	The peli-cans did their best to reverse the flight of
the scalawagons. But nothing could stop the bewil-
dered, dizzy cars. Each second they seemed about to
fall into the greedy hands of the Mifkits.

CHAPTER 6

Glinda Makes a Discovery

NOT very far from Carrot Mountain the Wizard
was at the red palace of Glinda the Good. Glinda,
the kind ruler of the Quadlings, had invited four hun-
dred and twenty-seven visitors to be present when
the Wizard was to present a secret surprise. No one,
not even Glinda, knew what this surprise would be.
	The Wizard smiled happily, saying, "My duty to
my fellow-Ozzians is to send them on their way re-
joicing."
	But be did not tell them how he would "send them
on their way." No one dreamed of the brightly col-
ored little scalawagons.
	Glinda's red lawn was gay. The trees' low branches
held a variety of refreshments. Many children were
helping themselves to fruit and cake and red cocoa.
	The plates and goblets were of red gold inlaid with
rubies. The dishes were carved with a red G for Glinda,
or a red 0 for Ozma, queen of Oz for it was a red-
letter day.
	The variously colored clothing of the guests made
a pleasing rainbow on the lawn. The blue Munchkins
wore tinkling bells in their caps. The Gillikans' purple
costumes were soft to the eyes. The Winkies' yellows
could be seen from afar.
	Among the guests were a Munchkin farmer and
thirteen of his children. They were known by numbers
instead of names, and had all reached the stop-grow-
ing age of ten. Number Nine was not present. He
was still in the Wizard's workroom, not having been
given the day off.
	Glinda stood in a flowing ruby gown, welcoming
the guests. Ozma sat in a seat of honor, smiling and
returning everyone's greeting.
	Many of the beloved characters of Oz were here--
the Scarecrow, the Tin Woodman, Captain Salt, Dor-
othy of Kansas, and Jenny Jump. Jenny Jump, whom
Ozma had made a duchess, was proudly wearing her
coronet. Jenny was the official stylist of Oz. Nearly
everyone was dressed in clothes from her magic turn-
style.
	The people from the four lands and the Emerald City
greeted one another joyously. Many had wonderful
adventures to relate.
	Jack Pumpkinhead, a boy made of sticks, with a
carved pumpkin head, was standing near Scraps, a
patchwork girl.
	"Now, Scraps, remember your company manners.
Don't turn any somersaults!" he cautioned.
	At the word somersaults, Scraps gave a shout of
glee and turned three cartwheels across the lawn.
Jack Pumpkinhead looked mortified. Several bystand-
ers comforted him by saying,
	"Never mind, Jack. You can't expect that cotton
girl to be anything but a tomboy."
	A clanking noise diverted everyone's attention. Sir
Hokus, the knight, came striding over.
	"Oz bodkins!" exclaimed Sfr Hokus, "I'm bound for
adventure. If I had but a mount!"
	"Mount!" exclaimed a wooden Sawhorse, galloping
on its short, stiff legs.
	"Adventure!" cried Jenny Jump, swinging her new
handbag excitedly. "I could take some adventure,
too."
	Scraps came tumbling back. Landing in the center
of the group, she chanted:
"Time is short--so have some fun,
Take it on the hop, skip, run!"
Turning a double somersault, she bounded away, and
collided with the ferocious-faced pirate, Captain Salt.
	"Anchors and oars!" roared the pirate. "You're a
bit too lively, miss.
	But Scraps, laughing and tumbling, was out of ear-
shot.
	"Next to adventure, I love a surprise," said Jenny
Jump. "I can hardly wait to hear what the Wizard
has to tell us."
	"We are to make the announcement," the Scare-
crow said, putting his arm around his friend, the Tin
Woodman.
	"How can you? You don't know any more than
the rest of us," said Jenny.
	"Well, we are to announce the announcement," the
Tin Woodman explained.
	The Scarecrow added with dignity, "I am to pro-
nounce the announcing of the announcement."
	"Gracious sakes, it's too complicated for me," cried
Dorothy's Aunt Em, holding up her hands, her eyes
laughing through their spectacles. "Henry, can you
make anything of it?" She turned to her husband.
	Uncle Henry, who once had been a Kansas farmer,
rubbed his chin thoughtfully, and said slowly,
	"I reckon we'll soon be enlightened. For the Wiz-
ard is signalling at us now."
	They all turned to see the jovial little Wizard wav-
ing hard at them.
	"Come on," said Jenny, bounding forward. "I must
hear what it's all about."
	As Jenny and her friends drew near to the Wiz-
ard, the rest of the guests stopped eating and talking.
	The Wizard motioned to the Scarecrow and the Tin
Woodman. They followed him to the table where Oz-
ma sat with Princess Dorothy, the smiling Glinda, and
a host of friends.
	"Now," said the Wizard, "let us begin."
	"Your Majesties and my Friends," began the Scare-
crow, rising and bowing from his straw-stuffed waist.
"I have the honor to announce a surprise by our won-
derful Wizard of Oz! I wish I knew what it is, bu-"
	Suddenly he sat down.
	"But," continued the Tin Woodman, where the
Scarecrow left off, "my kind heart tells me that the
Wizard prefer-"
	Then he sat down just as suddenly as the Scarecrow,
and Jack Pumpkinhead arose, grinning. He was al-
ways grinning, for his smile was carved into his head.
	"-prefers to make us all happy," continued Jack.
"And when the Wizard does that, I'm sure we can be
no happier." He ended in a voice full of feeling.
	"For the land sakes, what are they talking about?"
asked Aunt Em.
	"Whatever it is, we'll soon know," said Uncle Henry.
"But first I see that Glinda is going to read the day's
news in her magic book. When she comes back, the
Wizard will tell us his surprise."
	All eyes followed Glinda, who had risen and was
crossing the garden. She leaned over a pedestal where
lay a great open book. This magic book kept printing
in itself the latest happenings all over the kingdom.
	The Wizard sat with his hands folded over his round
stomach, wearing a mysterious smile. The guests
waited patiently for Glinda's return.
	In the midst of the quiet, the patchwork girl, Scraps,
came bouncing across the lawn.
"Surprise won't spoil my appetite,
Because I never eat a bite!"
she chanted, and she turned triple somersaults around
the guests.
	Everyone applauded. Scraps swung herself up to
the branch of a tree. She began to strip off the meat
sandwiches that hung there, throwing them down
into the open jaws of the Cowardly Lion.
	"Why do you take trouble to eat?
	I'd rather be stuffed with cotton than meat!"
The Cowardly Lion, smiling thankfully at her, con-
tinued to hold his jaws open. The Hungry Tiger came
up and crouched beside the Lion. The Tiger's mouth
was watering.
	"Just throw me a juicy bit of meat," he begged.
Laughing, Scraps tossed the sandwiches to both
animals in turn.
	All enjoyed the spectacle, except Jack Pumpkin-
head. He felt ashamed of Scraps, for he thought she
was not behaving properly at a party.
	"Come down, Scraps," he begged.
	Suddenly Scraps looked far off and pointed her cot-
ton finger.
"Don't get scrappy,
Glinda's not happy."

At this warning, everyone turned. Glinda was hurry-
ing back to her guests. A worried look was on her
face.
	"What has happened?" everyone asked

CHAPTER 7

Can the Scalawagons be Rescued?

	Glinda replied anxiously, "I have read bad news in
my magical book. The Wizard's surprise has disap-
peared! The magic book says it was scalawagons.
At Glinda's announcement, everyone was thrown
into an uproar. The Cowardly Lion rose up and
roared louder than all the noise.
	"Scalawagons?" the people said in surprise. "What
are scalawagons?"
	"It doesn't matter," someone answered. "They're
lost, and our dear Glinda is worried, and that's
enough."
	"Well, I for one would like a sensible explanation,"
Aunt Em declared. "Let's ask the Wizard."
	"The Wizard, the Wizard!" everyone began to cry.
All the party guests looked at the seat where the
Wizard had been sitting.
	BUT THE WIZARD HAD VANISHED.
	"Now we won't know what scalawagons are until
he returns," Glinda spoke out to all her guests. "But
it doesn't matter. We'll wait for him."
	"Couldn't we organize a searching party?" said
Jenny Jump in a practical tone. "Then we could have
adventure that would do somebody some good."
	"But how can you search for something if you don't
know what it is?" the Scarecrow asked.
	He looked excited, as if the word "adventure" ap-
pealed to him.
	"We'll know the scalawagons when we see them,"
Jenny said.
	Suddenly the air was filled with the heavy sound
of weeping. Everyone looked around in surprise.
There was the Cowardly Lion, crying as if his heart
would break.
	"What's the matter?" asked Dorothy, putting her
arm around the beast.
	"The poor scalawagons, whatever they are!" sobbed
the Cowardly Lion. "I am afraid to think what may
happen to them! Boo-hoo-hoo I,,
	The Lion wept so hard that all the Munchkin, Win-
kie, Gillikan, and Quadling babies started crying
with blue, yellow, purple, and red tears.
	"Here, here, we can't have such goin's on!" said
Aunt Em. "If you're worried about the scalawagons,
why don't you do as Jenny Jump says? GO IN
SEARCH OF THEM!"
	"Not I!" exclaimed the Cowardly Lion, shuddering
so hard that his tears flew around like a water-spray.
"I'm afraid!"
	"Never mind," Jenny said soothingly. "You don't
have to go. I will!"
	"And I'll go with you," the Scarecrow said eagerly.
"I'll go with my Scarecrow friend," the Tin Wood-
man spoke up. He stepped over to the Scarecrow and
put his tin-jointed hand on the other's shoulder.
	The Sawhorse began to paw the ground. "What are
we waiting for? Hurry, hitch the red wagon to me,
and let's be off!"
	The Scarecrow and the Tin Woodman ran to fetch
a little old red wagon that stood nearby. In a moment
they had it hitched to the Sawhorse.
	Jenny jumped into the wagon, and the Scarecrow
and the Tin Woodman climbed in beside her. A cheer
went up from the people.
	"Oz Fish!" cried Sir Hokus from the crowd. "If
anything's to be rescued, let me do it!"
	He came clanking toward the red wagon. Jenny
said, "Thank you, Sir Hokus, but you are too heavy
in all your armor. We will go alone."
	"It is true, I am too heavy for the little Sawhorse,"
Sir Hokus said, and backed away. "Oh, for a noble
steed!" he sighed.
	Captain Salt, the pirate, shouted, "Give me a ship!
A stout sailing ship! I'll bring back those scala-
wagons!"
	"The duchess Jenny and her two companions will
try to bring the scalawagons to us," Glinda spoke in
her soft, musical voice. "But first let me look again
in my magical book. I shall learn the latest news."
	Glinda went again to her great open book and leaned
across the page. She read all the happenings in the
kingdom within the past few minutes. Then she re-
turned and said,
	"The scalawagons were set loose by the mischievous
Bell-snickle. They are floating over the Sandy Waste.
It is a great risk to go near this desert."
	Jenny cried eagerly, "I'm not afraid. It will be a
wonderful adventure!"
	"Very well. But Queen Ozma must let you wear
her magic belt. Then, at any time you touch it, you
can wish yourself out of danger."
	At these words, Ozma arose and said in a tone of
distress,
	"I did not wear my belt today. It is in my palace
in the Emerald City."
	"Never mind," Jenny said cheerfully. "I have my
fairy gifts in my handbag." She held up her gay
handbag. "My fairy godfather provided me with them
long ago."
	Jenny put her hand into her bag and drew forth
several objects. They were an eyeglass for one eye,
a pair of rose-colored gloves that had but eight fin-
gers, a gold slipper for the left foot, and a pair of
thistledown ear-muffs.
	"If the danger becomes too great, I can use these,"
said Jenny calmly. "Don't you worry, people. The
Scarecrow, the Tin Woodman, and I will be safe
enough!"
	The Scarecrow then picked up the reins and cried,
"Go along, Sawhorse!" The Sawhorse jumped for-
ward. The people raised a cheer as the red wagon
rolled away.
	The Sawhorse ran briskly, carrying the three ad-
venturers far into the red hills of the Quadling coun
try. Though the hills made the traveling more diffi-
cult, the wooden animal did not slow down.
	"Just what I wanted," Jenny cried in her delight.
"A real adventure! My last trip was to the Munchkin
country, on a blue mule. How that mule could run!"
	"Like a blue streak?" suggested the Scarecrow.
The Sawhorse, who overheard Jenny praising the
mule, grew quite jealous.
	"Blue streak, eh?" he said to himself. "I'll show
'em!"
	With that the wooden animal leaped up a steep
hill, running so hard that the red wagon and its
occupants were severely jostled.
	"Hey, there, slow down!" shouted the Tin Wood-
man, trying to make himself heard over the racket
of the wagon wheels. But the Sawhorse ran all the
faster.
	The hills became red flying masses to the eyes of
the adventurers. They clung hard to the sides of the
wagon, shouting to the Sawhorse to stop.
	"So they think that old blue mule could run, do
they? I'll show 'em!" He made his legs go faster
and faster.
	Sometimes he did not touch the earth at all, but
leaped from hilltop to hilltop.
	"Stop, stop!" commanded the Scarecrow, pulling the
reins with all his might.
	But the runaway Sawhorse would not stop.
By this time the Tin Woodman was rattling in every
joint.
	"I-I've g-got to s-stop and oil my j-j-joints!" he
gasped. "The wind is d-d-drying them out!"
	But there was no way to stop the jealous little horse.
He was determined to show Jenny that he could out-
run any mule in Oz.
	"Oh, my stuffing!" moaned the Scarecrow, hugging
himself to keep his seams from bursting. "I can't hold
on to myself much longer!"
	"What shall we do?" Jenny cried. She was bounc-
ing so hard that she could not open her handbag and
reach for the fairy gifts.
	Just then a deep voice beside the road cried, "Stop!"
They turned in time to catch a glimpse of a bright
red plow horse. But the Sawhorse did not heed this
warning. On and on he tore, faster than the wind.
	"Stop, stop!" shouted the red-faced farmers along
the road.
	But the Sawhorse went right on.
	Jenny clenched her teeth and hung on to the wagon.
	"Sawhorse, you're more stubborn than a mule!"
	The Sawhorse heard her, and ran on.
	"You'd better say I'm faster than a mule!" he mut-
tered.
	Just ahead, Jenny saw a narrow passage through
the hills. They couldn't dash through a dark-red
chasm like that. Something dreadful might happen.
And something was coming toward them! If it got
in their way, there'd be a terrible collision.
	"Help! Sawhorse, stop!" shrieked Jenny.
desperate runaway paid no heed.
	The other occupant of the road became plainer. It
was a farmer driving a wagon filled with bright yel-
low beets.
	"We're in the land of the Winkies!" exclaimed the
Scarecrow. "These hills will soon end, and a forest
will begin. We'll be scratched and torn on the bri-
ars
"LOOK OUT!"
	There was a terrific CRASH! The air was filled with
flying beets. Like yellow hailstones, they shot up in
the air and fell down on the heads of the adventurers.
	"Ouch! Hey! Stop !" cried Jenny, dodging the big
yellow missiles. The beets kept thumping on her un-
protected head. Luckily she ducked her head and es-
caped the blows of many of the beets.
	"If this doesn't beat everything!" she cried angrily.
The yellow farmer wailed, "Oh, my new spring
crop!"
	When the beets had ceased falling, Jenny found her-
self more angry than hurt.
	The Scarecrow was somewhat out of shape, and the
Tin Woodman had several dents in his body. But there
was one good thing-the Sawhorse had been stopped.
	"Now, then, my friend," Jenny said, briskly jump-
ing down and going around to the head of the Saw-
horse, "would you mind explaining all this ruckus?"
	The Sawhorse, gazing back at Jenny, said, "Do you
still think that blue mule can run?"
	"So that's it! Oh, you silly little beast!" Jenny burst
out laughing and patted the wooden head of the horse.
"If you weren't a blockhead, you'd never have given
us such a fright."
	She turned around and saw the Scarecrow and the
Tin Woodman helping the Winkie farmer pick up his
scattered beets.
	Suddenly the Woodman stopped, crouched halfway
to the ground.
	"Help! My joints are completely dry!"
Jenny sprang to seize the oilcan that Nick always
carried with him. But the oilcan was gone!
	"It must have fallen out when we were bumping over
the hills," said Jenny excitedly. "What shall we do."
	"I can't move, and when my jaws get dry, I won't be
able to talk," the Woodman said sadly.
	Jenny turned to the Winkie farmer. "Can you think
of anything?"
	"No," said the farmer. "But I will put the tin man
into the red wagon for you."
	The farmer picked up the Woodman and carried him
carefully to the wagon.
	"I'm afraid you'll have to remain crouched during
the rest of the trip. Do you mind very much?" asked
Jenny.
	The Tin Woodman did not answer. The joints of his
jaws were already dry.
	"Maybe some rain would help," said Jenny.
"I hope it doesn't rain!" the Scarecrow said anx-
iously. "For I am useless when soaked."
	Jenny looked at the sky. It was a speckless yellow.
"I don't think it will rain," she said.
	There was nothing to do now but gather up the rest
of the beets. When the farmer was ready to go on his
way, he warned Jenny and the Scarecrow:
	"You are not far from the Winkie Woods. Watch
out for a certain neck of the woods. It's a Bottle-neck!"

CHAPTER 8

In the Winkie Woods

	JENNY and the Scarecrow looked at each other as
the Winkie farmer drove off with his load of yellow
beets.
	"Now what do you suppose he meant?" asked Jenny.
"There's only one way to find out. Climb into the
wagon!" advised the Scarecrow.
	The Scarecrow had smoothed and patted himself
into shape, and soon he felt much better. The Wood-
man sat motionless, crouched over as he had been
when he had gone dry.
	"It's all my fault," the repentant Sawhorse said. "If
I hadn't run away the oil can would not have got lost.
Let this be a lesson to me!"
	The Sawhorse started at a sensible pace and soon
the red~wagon was rolling out of the narrow passage.
As the hills fell behind the travelers, the dark wall of
a wood rose before them.
	"Whatever a bottle-neck is, I'm ready for it!" said
Jenny, clutching her handbag with its precious fairy
gifts.
	"I wonder if it's different from a rubber-neck?"
mused the Scarecrow.
	"Or a stiff-neck, like the poor Woodman's," said
Jenny.
	"His isn't as stiff as mine," called out the Sawhorse.
"I haven't any joints in my neck, and can't turn it at
all!"
	The wagon entered the forest. The smooth road
ended, and once more the adventurers began to bump
and sway.
	At the same time the light grew dimmer, for the
tall trees were shutting out the yellow sunshine.
	"My, how dark it's getting," said Jenny, drawing
closer to her friends.
	"Halt!" cried a queer, choked voice.
	The Sawhorse stopped so suddenly that the three oc-
cupants of the wagon were unceremoniously pitched
out into the road.
	"Are your necks broken?" asked another queer
voice.
	Jenny looked up and saw a row of tall, thick-necked
bottles blocking the path. The leader of these bottles
marched up to Jenny and repeated his question:
	"Are your necks broken?"
	"No, thank you, they are not!" said Jenny. Then
she added curiously, "What's the matter with your
voice? It sounds so choked."
	"It's all bottled up," replied the leader. "That's why
I was wishing you had broken your neck."
	"Indeed!" Jenny said indignantly. "What has my
neck to do with your voice?"
	"I'd pour my horse-medicine on you and relieve my
throat," explained the bottle.
	"Did you say horse-medicine!" exclaimed Jenny.
"I declare, you do give me a pain in the neck!" Then
she noticed that the tall bottles had horse-shaped faces.
"Nobody is going to pour horse-medicine on me!"
	"What about your horse?" asked the leader.
"Couldn't we break his neck and prove how fine our
medicine is?"
	"Well, I should say not!" the Sawhorse answered for
himself.
	Jenny was growing angry. Getting to her feet, she
shook herself all over and then said with satisfaction,
"No broken bones. You planted yourselves in our path
on purpose, didn't you?"
	"Yes," said the leader in a disappointed voice. "Now,
how about your friends? Didn't they break any bones?"
	The Scarecrow laughed, "The Tin Woodman and I
haven't any bones! I have seams and he has joints."
	"What a shame," cried another Bottle. "We could
prove that our medicine mends broken bones."
	"How do we know that?" said Jenny, scornfully.
"It's written all over us", said another bottle, draw-
ing near to Jenny.
	Jenny bent down and read:
		GUARANTEED TO REPAIR BROKEN NECKS IN
HALF AN HOUR
	"Do you have any way of oiling his dry joints?"
Jenny asked, pointing to the Tin Woodman, who sat
motionless and silent in the road.
	The bottles all spoke at once: "Our joint reply is.
NO!"
	"Then you are of no use to us," said Jenny. "Kindly
get out of our way."
	"But your horse," insisted the leader, pointing to
the Sawhorse. "Just let us break his neck!"
	"You'd better leave me alone," growled the Saw-
horse.
	"See here," said a fat bottle, drawing up to Jenny
with a menacing look. "We're not going to be cheated.
If you won't let us break your neck, then make it an
arm."
	"I will not!" cried Jenny.
	"A leg?"
	"No!"
	"A finger?"
	"No!"
	"Just your little finger," begged the leader. "It will
heal in half an hour, you know."
	"Absolutely not!" cried Jenny, stamping her foot
angrily. "I never heard of such bras~r glass! Get
out of our way!"
	Jenny and the Scarecrow picked up the Tin Wood-
man and hoisted him into the wagon. Jenny did most
of the work, for the Scarecrow's muscles were as weak
as straw. Then Jenny and the Scarecrow jumped into
the wagon. As Jenny picked up the reins, she said,
	"Come on, Sawhorse!"
	The intelligent creature backed up a few steps and
then attempted to run around the line of bottles. But
as the row extended across the path, this was impos-
sible. There was only one thing for the Sawhorse to
do--he jumped.
	Crash! One of the bottles had been struck by a wheel
and lay in splinters.
	"Hurrah!" cried the other bottles in their choked
voices.
	The Sawhorse ran ahead. Jenny looked back and
saw the bottles bending over their fallen comrade,
pouring medicine over him.
	"At last they have someone to experiment on," she
said.
	The Sawhorse ran on, drawing the wagon and its
adventurers farther into the woods. It grew alto-
gether dark, and then suddenly it was bright-yellow
light. Then, as suddenly, it was dark again.
	"What's the matter with my eyes?" said Jenny.
"They keep going blind."
	"So do mine," said the Scarecrow. "It's as if I were
blinking. But I can't blink or wink. My eyes are
painted open."
	The yellow light flashed on, and then off, on and off.
"It's not we who are winking, it's the woods!" ex-
claimed Jenny.
	"Then it's natural," said the Scarecrow. "We are in
the Winkie Woods."
	"I wish the light would go on and stay on," Jenny
said. "How can we tell whether it's night or day?"
Her friend was silent, for he did not know how to
answer. Then Jenny said, "I'll know when it's night,
for I'll get sleepy."
	"That's something that never happens to me, you
know," said the Scarecrow. "Nor to the Tin Woodman,
though he's past feeling anything now."
	"If only we could find the Scalawagons," said Jenny.
"They might be helpful to the poor Woodman. And
as for me, I'm getting hungry."
	"I never get hungry," said the Scarecrow sympa-
thetically. "Too bad you aren't made of straw, Jenny."
	"I don't see it that way," answered Jenny.
There was a wink of darkness, in which Jenny could
see nothing. The Sawhorse stumbled and fell. He
did not get up, but lay while the woods continued to
wink on and off. During a light wink Jenny jumped
down and examined the animal.
	"Your front leg is broken!" she exclaimed.
"Then you might as well unhitch me from this
wagon," said the Sawhorse.
	The Scarecrow came to help Jenny unharness the
horse.
	"What are we going to do?" Jenny said anxiously.
"Without the Sawhorse we can't get out of these
woods."
	The Sawhorse picked up the broken leg, and hold-
ing it in his mouth, trotted back in the direction from
which they had come.
	"Where are you going?" asked the Scarecrow.
The Sawhorse dropped his leg long enough to an-
swer, "Back to those medicine bottles. They are my
only chance of getting mended."
	Then the Sawhorse picked up his leg, and holding it
between his wooden jaws, disappeared in two winks.
	"Well, if we aren't in a tight place now!" said Jenny.
"As tight as a bottleneck," the Scarecrow said.
"As well as in the dark," added Jenny.
The two stood dejectedly in the path. At last Jenny
said, "Use the sharp brains the Wizard gave you,
Scarecrow, and think of a way out."
	The Scarecrow put his hand to his head and thought
hard for an instant. Then he looked up, smiling.
	"We have the solution in the bag!" he said.
	"What bag?" asked Jenny.
	"Your handbag!"
	Jenny laughed joyously. "Of course! I nearly for-
got the fairy gifts."
	Then she opened her bag and brought forth the
eyeglass and the ear-muffs and handed them to the
Scarecrow.
	"Put these on and tell me what you see and hear."
The Scarecrow put on the fairy gifts. But he only
said, "I see nothing. I hear nothing."
	"What!" exclaimed Jenny. "Won't my gifts help
anyone but me?"
	Then, replacing the gifts in her bag, Jenny put on
her magic gloves and her left-footed shoe.
	"Now, then," she said, "we'll see."
	"Only in flashes," said the Scarecrow, between two
winks of light. "However, there's nothing to worry
about. All trouble has its conclusion."
	"We must reach this conclusion soon," said Jenny.
"Help me lift Nick out of the wagon, please."
	They got the helpless Tin Woodman to the ground.
Jenny took a hand of each of her friends.
	"Hold tightly," she cried. "We will jump to this con-
clusion!" Jenny jumped on her powerful left foot--and
went sailing upward, carrying along the Scarecrow
and the Woodman.
	As they went above the trees, the wind caught them
and wafted them toward the entrance of the wood.
	A great flash of yellow light winked on, and looking
down, Jenny saw that she was directly above the
bottles, who were busily attending to the Sawhorse.
	"Let's go down and see if they've mended him," said
Jenny. And with that she began to descend.
	The three came safely down to earth, close to the
bottles. Jenny let go of the Scarecrow and the Wood-
man and ran to examine the Sawhorse. The wooden
animal was lying down, and the bottles were dancing
all around him.
	"Why are you hopping like that?" asked Jenny.
	"Because," buzzed the leader, who was a blue
bottle, "we must shake ourselves well before using."
	Then suddenly the blue bottle stood on his head
The medicine came running out of his mouth, over
the broken leg of the Sawhorse. In a moment the other
bottles stood themselves on their heads, while their
blue, green, and black medicine anointed the Saw-
horse. A variety of smells filled the air.
	Soon the Sawhorse got up and stood
soundly, on all four legs.
	"There you see," buzzed the blue bottle; "we could
do the same for you."
	"Thanks," said Jenny. "But I don't feel broken up
over this."
	"Do you call that gratitude?" shrieked a tiny bottle,
apparently a bottle baby.
stiffly, but
	"We must all take our medicine now and then," an-
other said.
	"And in these Winkie Woods, we all have our dark
moments," added a third.
	"I know what--let's break the horse's leg and mend
it all over again," suggested a murky bottle.
	"You're not very bright," said Jenny, impatiently.
"But I can see through you. Nobody is going to break
us apart. We're leaving together, right now!"
	She and the Scarecrow put the Tin Woodman on the
Sawhorse's back. Then the Scarecrow climbed on. As
Jenny prepared to follow, a fat bottle rushed up.
	"Stop, stop!" cried the bottle. "I insist that you give
me a trial."
	"Go away, imbecile!" shouted Jenny, stamping her
foot.
	The next instant she was in the air, high above the
bottles and the Sawhorse. She had stamped her fairy
foot, quite forgetting that she wore her magic shoe.
	When the Sawhorse saw Jenny sailing above the
trees, he gave a frightened snort and began to run.
Deep in the woods he came upon the red wagon. He
stopped only long enough to let the Scarecrow hitch the
wagon behind him, putting the Tin Woodman into it.
Then the frightened Sawhorse was off and nothing
could stop him.

CHAPTER 9

A Notable Adventure

	WHEN Jenny found herself alone in the air, her
first thought was to return to her friends. But
she had jumped in a wink of darkness, and lost her
direction. When she saw that she could not return to
the others, she comforted herself by thinking,
	"The Sawhorse will surely take them back to
Glinda."
	Then Jenny bent her mind on the adventure ahead.
She was sailing easily, every moment being carried
farther from the Winkie Wood.
	She was quite tired of that wood and eager to see
new places. As for being in the air, high above the
trees, that did not concern her at all. For she had
often jumped on her fairy foot and sailed into de-
lightful adventures. She had once sailed all the way
from the U.S.A. into the land of Oz.
	"Maybe I'd better put on my fairy eye. It helps to
be farsighted at such a time," she thought. And she
slipped her hand into her bag and brought out the
eyeglass.
	As soon as she had fixed the glass to her eye, Jenny
detected a great many shapes in the distant sky. She
promptly turned herself in that direction.
	Coming near to the shapes, Jenny discovered them
to be a host of floating little people, or rather, fairies.
They were the queerest sight she had ever seen. They
resembled little old men, for they had long beards that
came to their feet. And on each one's head was a bell.
Jenny quickly counted eighty-eight of these bell-
hatted creatures.
	"That's funny," thought Jenny. "If they wear bells
where their hats should be, why can't I hear any
music?"
	Then she remembered her fairy ear-muffs, and tak-
ing them from her purse, fastened them to her ears.
	In an instant the air was filled with the music of
bell--large peals, small tinkles, musical chimes, and
deep gongs.
	"Well, I'll be dog-gong!" Jenny exclaimed in aston-
ishment.
	The little bell folk had not yet discovered her, for
they were all floating with their backs to her. They
stayed together, like a cloud. They seemed to be asleep,
with their beards tucked between their knees. Next
moment, however, an alarm rang, waking them all.
Swinging around, they caught sight of Jenny.
	Instantly a clamor shook the air. All the bells began
to peal forth at once. The loud fire gongs made a deaf-
ening racket.
	"See here!" shouted Jenny. "Must you make all
that noise?"
	Her voice seemed to surprise the bell-people. They
ceased their ringing, and floated cautiously up to her.
Then a single bell-man asked in a tinkling voice,
	"What keeps you up? You haven't any beard for a
sail!"
	"Of course I haven't any beard!" said Jenny indig-
nantly. "What do you take me for?"
	"We wouldn't take you for anything," the bell
tinkled politely. "What are you?"
	"A girl! Don't you bells know what girls are?"
	"Do you ring?"
	"Of course not. And I'm not a siren, either. But I
sing. And I play a piano, too. If you had a piano, I'd
show you."
	"A piano?" chimed in another bell. "Oh, dear, pianos
are too heavy to fly."
	"I should say they are," agreed Jenny with a laugh.
She was beginning to enjoy herself. As for the bell-
men, they had overcome their shyness and were crowd-
ing around her. Jenny could see their good-natured
faces and twinkling eyes.
	"Excuse me for disturbing you," said Jenny. "You
were all sleeping so peacefully."
	"Oh, that's all right," intoned a deep-voiced bell.
"But to tell you the truth, we didn't dream of your
coming."
	"If you sleep all day, when do you ring?"
	"I am a vesper bell," answered a clear, sweet tone.
"My work begins at twilight."
	"I suppose you wouldn't all care to give a concert
now?" asked Jenny.
	"If you'll note what we play, we'd be glad to oblige,"
said the vesper bell. "That's how great composers get
their music. They listen to us, ringing in their ears,
and they note the music on paper. Then they in turn
become noted. And all thanks to us, the Nota-bells."
	"I didn't bring any note-paper with me," Jenny
apologized.
	The bells drew back and formed a ring around
Jenny. Then they began to peal forth, in soft, har-
monious strains. It was the most delightful music
Jenny had ever heard. When the concert was over,
she thanked the fairies.
	"That was really a notable experience," she said.
"But why did you form a ring around me?"
	"So you would not be carried away by our music,"
they explained.
	"I could listen to you all day," said Jenny. "But I
am on an important adventure."
	At these words the Nota-bells flew closer to her,
clamoring, "Adventure? Did you say adventure? Let
us come with you!"
	One of the bells, that could not ring, but was a little
dumb bell, looked most imploringly at Jenny. She could
not resist, and answered,
	"Very well, come along if you wish. I can't bear to
leave you looking like blue bells. But you must all do
as I say, and never re-bel! Follow me like a flock of
sheep."
	"You'll be our bell wether," promised a joyous tone.
"Lead on!"
	"Do you think I am a-bell?" said Jenny mischiev-
ously.
	As she spoke, she pushed her fairy foot against the
air and sent herself forward, into the unknown.

CHAPTER 10

Number Nine chimes In

BACK in the Wizard's workroom, Number Nine was
tuning the dials of the teletable.
	"Let's see what's lost today," he remarked, getting
a pencil and paper. "I'll just jot down anything of
note."
	Number Nine was careful not to tune in to the Scala-
wagon Factory, for he had heard the Wizard say that
the Scalawagons were to be a surprise. And like any
good Munchkin boy, Number Nine knew enough to
wait and be surprised when the time came.
	The large clock was hanging over the transom of
the door.
	"Still fiddling with that contraption?" scolded the
clock.
	"I'm not fiddling," answered Number Nine. "And
I wish you'd change your tune."
	"It's high time you got to work," complained the
clock.
	Number Nine glanced up. "The time wouldn't be
so high if you'd get down off of there," he said. "It's
time you marched on."
	"I'd rather fly," said the clock. "It gets monotonous,
always staying in this tower."
	The boy continued to turn the dials. "Maybe I'll
find something interesting soon. Just give me a few
minutes."
	"Give you a few minutes!" exclaimed the clock in
horror. "Do you think I have time to spare? Anyway,
it's bad to work on borrowed time!"
	But Number Nine did not hear this. He was waving
his arms wildly.
	"What is it?" asked the clock. "Quick, tell me!"
	"Why, a lot of things are lost today!" cried Number
One in great excitement He watched the screen of
the teletable.
	"What? What?" said the clock impatiently.
"You can see for yourself," said the boy, pointing
to the screen. Across the screen floated a number of
objects. They seemed to be in a whirlwind sort of
flight, yet spinning helplessly in the midst of no-
where.
	"I can't make it out," said the clock. "What are
those things, anyway?"
	"The scalawagons! They're lost, and I think they're
somewhere outside of Oz!"
	"Then they're in the horrible Desert," the clock said,
catching Number Nine's excitement. "Do something,
quick! You can't let them fall into the hands of the
Mifkits."
	"I wish the Wizard were here! I'm not as expert
with these controls as I ought to be."
	And then as Number Nine fumbled with more dials
and levers, he tuned out the scalawagons and brought
another picture to the screen.
	It was Tik-Tok, lying near the Carrot Mountain. He
was lying in the position that he had fallen into when
the Bell-snickle had pushed him out.
	"Poor Tik-Tok, he's fallen by the wayside," said
Number Nine. "And hoz!-what's that?"
	On the screen appeared the troupe of little Lollies,
with the peppery Minty in the lead. These little girls
carried brooms, which they began to poke at Tik-Tok.
	"Why doesn't the copper man run away?" asked the
big clock leaning through the transom. It was leaning
over so far that it seemed as if it would fall at any
moment.
	"Tik-Tok can't run," said Number Nine. "He's quite
run down."
	"Do you mean to say he ran down that mountain?"
	"I can't tell. From the looks of him, he fell down.
And that is why he's run down. It's time somebody
rescued him."
	"Will you stop talking of time and leave that to me?"
shouted the clock in anger.
	"You? Why, what can you do?" said Number Nine.
"You forget that I am the Wizard's helper, too. He
turns to me time and time again," said the clock.
	"Fine! Then tell me how we can save Tik-Tok from
those creatures, who are sticking their brooms into
him."
	"It doesn't matter about Tik-Tok. He can't feel any-
thing," said the clock unfeelingly.
	"Maybe you're right."
	"Me? I'm always right! What do you take me for-
a second-hand clock?"
	"I'll find someone who needs help more than Tik-
Tok," said Number Nine, tuning the dials of the tele-
table.
	He found a great many missing things, but he did
not consider them of enough note to write down. They
were the usual batch of missing buttons, stray cats,
and lost sheep.
	"So far, nothing-" began Number Nine, when sud-
denly music seemed to come from the teletable. "Ah-
hoz! We've found something!"
	"What chime is it?" asked the startled clock.
The boy carefully tuned to the right and the left,
until he had the right focus for his eyes and ears. He
gave a whistle of astonishment.
	A cloud of little men was floating across the screen.
The men had long beards, and bells for caps. Music
was coming from these bells, filling the wizard's work-
room with clear sound.
	"A lot of lost chords !" said the clock. "Aren't you
going to record them in your notebook?"
	"Certainly, this is a matter of note," said the boy.
	"What a breezy tune they play," said the clock, lean-
ing forward so far that he almost tumbled through the
transom. The clock seemed to enjoy the spectacle of
the singing bells.
	"They're in high spirits-sky-high," chuckled the
clock. And with that it leaned so close to Number Nine
that it lost its balance and fell with a loud BONG!
	For an instant all its machinery whirred, and the
ticks came fast and unevenly.
	"Do you need any help? Wait-said Number Nine.
	But the clock scrambled to its feet and said with
dignity, "Time waits for no one! Thank you, I'm quite
niyself now."
	"Good!" said the boy, turning back to the teletable.
The clock came up close to him. In that moment, Jenny
Jump floated into the picture on the screen.
	"Well, well! Is Jenny lost, too?" exclaimed the boy.
"Now, this calls for action!"
	"What can we do about it?" asked the clock eagerly.
	"Did you say WE?"
	"Certainly," said the clock. "For I'm going with
you."
	"You're always going! Well, come on."
	The boy and the clock ran to a small door at the side
of the room. It was quite an ordinary-looking door,
but the boy spoke to it:
	"Ambassa-door, take us to Jenny!"
	The door suddenly bent down.
	SWISH!
	The Wizard's workroom was empty!

CHAPTER 11

Tik-Tok Is Rescued

HIGH in the sky, Jenny was enjoying the rhythm
of the Nota-bells. As she flew, leading them, they
played Oz opera, Munchkin Blues, Quadling quartets,
and Winkie lullabies. They kept the music up, play-
ing it as soft as down.
	"This is lovely," thought Jenny. "And now, if only
we'd find a new adventure."
Scarcely had she thought this, when a commotion
sounded at the rear of the bell-men.
	"What's up?" said Jenny, looking around.
	"Something that hasn't any businesss to be up," re-
plied a deep-voiced bell.
	And then Jenny saw Number Nine struggling in
the hands of a bell-man, who riad captured him.
	"Let him go! He's a friend of mine," called Jenny.
	"What about this monster?" asked the bell-men,
ringing about the long hall clock.
	"Kindly leave me alone," said the clock sharply.
"I'm accustomed to keeping my affairs in my own
hands."
	"Isn't he rude? Shall we drop him?" called the bells.
	"Spare him," cried Number Nine. "I brought him
with me."
	"And, pray, what brought you here?" asked Jenny.
"I knew you were lost and came to rescue you."
At that all the bells pealed forth in laughter.
"Now, what are they laughing at?" the boy said
appealingly.
	"The idea of my being lost," answered Jenny. "I'm
not lost, only in search of the lost scalawagons or any
good adventure.
	At that moment two cars dashed furiously beneath
them across the desert and were soon out of sight.
	"Don't try to follow the scalawagons," Number Nine
called in alarm. "They are in the Sandy Waste. Res-
cuing Tik-Tok is much easier."
	"Tik-Tok?" said Jenny in surprise. "Is he in trou-
ble?"
	"Yes, indeed. He's lying at the foot of Carrot Moun-
tain with a lot of Lollies popping him on the head."
	"I don't know the way to the Carrot Mountain," said
Jenny.
	"Neither do I," said Number Nine.
	"We'll take you," said several bells. "It is to the
south."
	The bells formed a ring around Jenny, Number
Nine, and the clock. In this circular formation, they
proceeded southward.
	Looking down, Number Nine soon saw that they
were flying over the dismal desert. He saw a dark
spot of agitated objects that might have been the
scalawagons. But he had no wish to descend.
	"Fly higher," he begged the Nota-bells. The bell-
men sailed upward, and soon passed over the red glass
dome of Carrot Mountain.
	"Hm. Something has broken the dome to pieces,"
observed Number Nine. "I wonder if all is well inside
the Scalawagon Factory."
	He did not have much time to wonder. At that mo-
ment the Nota-bells began to descend. They flew down
very gently, wafting the boy and the girl and the clock
earthward. When they came to rest, they were on a
red road outside the village of the Lolly-Pops.
	"Farewell, we cannot remain," called the leader of
the bells. "Go straight on, and you will come to this
Tik-Tok."
	"Must you leave us?" Jenny said regretfully. She
had become fond of the little bell-topped men.
	"We'll meet again," promised the leader with a
smile. And then he and his band rose up, flew high
into the sky, and disappeared from view.
	"They might have watched us rescue Tik-Tok," said
Number Nine.
	"What if they had?" retorted the clock "They had
no clappers to applaud!"
	"I really don't care for applause. Poor Tik-Tok must
be saved," said Jenny.
	She hurried forward over the broad red road On
either side lay the red Quadling country. Red hedges
bordered the road, covered with red leaves and red
blossoms. The red clouds drifted slowly overhead in
the peaceful afternoon.
	"What a lovely day for saving someone," said Jenny.
"Yes, everything looks rosy," remarked Number
Nine.
	The clock, stalking beside them, said practically,
"You ought to be arming yourselves. Those Lollies
may resist you!"
	"Trust to my fairy gifts," said Jenny with a smile.
In a few more ticks of the clock, they had arrived
at the north side of Carrot Mountain. Circling the
base, they came upon an extraordinary scene. There
lay a pile of squirming bodies, the whole population
of Lolly-Pop Village. They were piled on top of each
other, struggling with something underneath. Jenny
saw a glint of copper.
	"It's Tik-Tok! He'll be crushed!" cried Jenny,
springing forward. Number Nine and the clock ran
after her.
	All she could see of Tik-Tok beneath the struggling
heap of Lollies were his copper legs. At a little distance
the lazy old Pops leaned upon one another, looking on.
Jenny flew at the Lollies and waved her hand with the
fairy glove. Instantly the Lollies popped aside, ex-
posing the helpless form of Tik-Tok.
	The clock stepped forward, peering down with in-
terest. Then it said in disgust,
	"Hm. No wonder he runs down. Hasn't any crank."
Jenny turned the copper man over on his face. Then
she proceeded to wind him carefully with a key stick-
ing under his right arm.
	Suddenly the copper man spoke: "Where-am-I?"
	"Where you landed," said Jenny. "Where did you
think?"
"I-can't-think-yet. Please-wind-me-under-my-left
arm," said Tik-Tok. Jenny did as she was bidden.
	"Now-my-brain-wheels-are-going," said Tik-Tok.
"If-you-please, wind-the-key-in-my-back."
	As soon as Jenny had done this, the copper man got
to his feet. "Ah, how-good-it-feels-to-be-in-tick-tock
con-di-tion! Thank-you- dear-Jennie."
	All this time the Lollies had stood swinging their
brooms. As the copper man got up, they scampered
away. But they did not run far. Their curiosity was
too great. They hid behind a rock and peeped out to
see what the strangers would do next. The lazy old
Pops did not move at all.
	Tik-Tok was holding the rubber hammer with which
he had knocked sense into the scalawagons. At the
sight of the hammer, Tik-Tok remembered.
	"Oh,-my-poor-scalawagons!" he moaned. "How-
can-I-manage-with-out-them?"
	"Your scalawagons!" cried Jenny, staring at Tik-
Tok. "Are you sure your fall didn't crack your brain
wheels?"
	"Not-at-all," replied Tik-Tok. "The-Wizard-made-
me-man-a-ger-of-all-the-scal-a-wag-ons. But-they've-
dis-ap-peared. I-haven't-any-idea-where-to-look-for-
them."
	"I know where they are," said Number Nine. "In
the Sandy Waste, beyond Oz."
	"Do-you-suppose-we-can-go-after-them?" said Tik-
Tok anxiously.
	"I couldn't do that," Number Nine explained. "Be-
cause I'm not supposed to know the Wizard's surprise."
	"Nonsense!" joined in the clock. "A mere formality.
I'm sure the Wizard would forgive you if you discov-
ered his secret."
	"But discovering secrets that are drifting over the
Sandy Waste is no picnic," said Number Nine. "Sup-
pose we fell into the clutches of the Mifkits ourselves?"
	Number Nine shuddered as he mentioned the name
Mifkits. His father, the Munchkin farmer, had often
told him and his thirteen sisters and brothers of those
wicked little denizens of the land beyond the desert.
	While they were talking, up crept the old Pops. It
seemed too much work for them to lean together when
there was someone else to lean on. So they quietly
leaned themselves against the Copper man.
	Now, Tik-Tok had a peaceful disposition at all times.
But these lazy fellows exasperated him. He brushed
them off, he shooed them, and he sidestepped from
them. But they returned again and again, attaching
themselves to him like flies.
	At last Tik-Tok swung his rubber hammer.
	BAM! BAM!
	"That-will-teach-you-to-use-your-own-back-bones,"
said Tik-Tok.
	"They have sticks where their backbones should be,"
said Jenny. "Regular sticks-in-the-mud."
	"Well, they'll-have-to-stick-together, and-stop-both-
ering-me," said Tik-Tok, swinging his hammer.
	"Pop down!" he cried. Instead of each Pop falling
down, he POPPED UP!
	"Hurrah!" cried Minty, the first Lolly to come from
behind her rock.
	"Hurrah!" cried all the other little Lollies, jumping
into sight.
	The old Pops had undergone a complete transforma-
tion. They now had intelligent expressions on their
faces, and their bodies straightened up smartly. They
began to smooth their clothes and slick back their
hair, until they looked as spruce as their daughters.
	"Pop them some more," cried Minty.
Jenny said, "You aren't being very respectful to-
ward your Pops, I'm afraid. You ought to be licked.
Then you'd grow up."
	"Oh, no, licking makes us grow down!" cried Minty
in alarm. And another neat little Lolly, with a grape-
colored face, added,
	"And think of the stickiness."
	"Are you good to eat?" said Jenny. "Oh, dear, and
I'm so hungry!"
	Her mouth began to water at the sight of so many
Lollies and Pops. At her words, the whole village pop-
ulation turned and ran-the old Pops running faster
than their daughters. Six doors slamed together. The
inhabitants were safely behind them.
	"Well, I wouldn't have eaten them, anyway," said
Jenny. "But, oh dear, I am hungry!"
	As if in answer to her words, six doors opened
slightly-only a crack-and six dishes were set upon
six stoops. Jenny peered and saw the tiniest plates
of stew. Each dish was but a mouthful for a real girl,
but all together the six platefuls made quite a meal.
Jenny went from one door to another, collecting the
stew. She offered to share her dinner with Number
Nine, but the boy declined. He had had a hearty meal
just before leaving the Wizard's workroom. Luckily,
Tik-Tok and the Clock never wanted food.
	"There, I feel better," said Jenny, when the last dish
of stew was gone. "My, those Lollies put a lot of flavor
into their food."
	"They ought to know something about flavor," said
Number Nine. "Flavor is their middle name."
	The clock said impatiently, "I'll not give another
minute to this delay. We must save the scalawagons!"
	"I'm ready," said Jenny. "Let's go!"
	"I'm going," answered the clock. "But I can't get
anywhere."
	"Neither can I," said Number Nine. "Without the
Ambassa-door or those Bells, I can't fly through the
air!"
	"Neither-can-I," said Tik-Tok sadly.
	The three looked at one another in dismay. They
gazed upward, hoping to catch sight of their friends,
the Nota-bells. But the sky was perfectly empty, with
not a sign of anything to help them.
	"I forgot that none of you can leave the ground
of your own accord," cried Jenny. "And I can't go off
and leave you. What shall we do?"
	"I don't know," said Number Nine.
	"It looks as if we're anchored here," grumbled the
clock. "And instead of saving the scalawagons, we'll
have to be saved ourselves!"
	"Oh, no! I have an idea!" said Jenny.

CHAPTER 12

Sawhorse Starts a Commotion

	THE Sawhorse hadn't stopped running. After he
sprang away from the Medicine Bottles, he ran
wildly through the Winkie Woods. The little animal
was terrified, thinking that something would happen
to Jenny, who had floated above the trees.
	"I must return to Glinda and warn her," called the
Sawhorse to the Scarecrow.
 The Scarecrow and the Tin Woodman bounced with
in the red wagon, for the Sawhorse was not paying
attention to the rough spots in the path.
	"That's a good idea," answered the Scarecrow. "But
couldn't you run more easily, my friend?"
	The wooden animal did not heed the Scarecrow's re-
quest. His one thought was to get back to Glinda's lawn
party. The woods, winking all around him, confused
him. If only he could get free of these blinking trees!
	Around and around ran the Sawhorse, starting up
every new path. After a long time he was able to see
a path that led out of the woods. He ran eagerly in
that direction, thinking it the way to return to Glinda's
red palace.
	"This is better," sighed the Scarecrow, when the
wagon was running once more in the open, on a smooth
broad road.
	The Tin Woodman could say nothing. He sat doubled
over as if he had a pain. He was silent; his dry jaw
hinges were motionless. The Scarecrow would have
liked to converse with his friend, but this was impos-
sible. And it was impossible to talk to the Sawhorse, for
that creature was too excited to listen. So the Scare-
crow sat thinking his own thoughts, while the red
wagon rolled furiously through the Yellow Winkie
country.
	"What a shame that Nick, the Woodman, cannot en-
joy the spectacle of this bright yellow land of which he
is emperor," thought the Scarecrow. "It would de-
light his kind heart to know that all is well with his
people."
	The Scarecrow glanced at Nick, but the Tin Wood-
man's eyes were on his own feet.
	"If only I had an oilcan," sighed the Scarecrow. "I'd
soon have him like his old self."
	On and on dashed the Sawhorse, until the Winkie
country began to fall behind, and a purple haze ap-
peared on the horizon.
	"Why, there's the land of the Gillikans! The Saw-
horse has been traveling north instead of south !" the
Scarecrow thought.
	"Sawhorse you are running in the wrong direction!
Turn around!" shouted the Scarecrow.
	"Never!" cried the Sawhorse. "I wouldn't return to
that wood for anything!"
	"Then you must turn to the left. That way, you'll
reach the Emerald City."
	The wooden animal hesitated, slowing his feet. Then
he said, "All right, I'll go to the Emerald City. Maybe
someone there will be able to save Jenny."
	And that was how the Sawhorse, instead of reach-
mg Glinda's, ran instead up to the gates of the Emer-
ald City. No visitors were expected at that hour! The
Guardian of the Gate was talking to the Soldier with
the Green Whiskers. The Soldier with the Green
Whiskers had laid aside his military expression, and
with a happy smile was playing marbles. The Guard-
ian of the Gate sat keeping score.
	"Leave the city gate open, for Ozma and her party
should be returning soon," said the Soldier with the
Green Whiskers.
	"What do you suppose is happening at Glinda's
now?" asked the Guardian of the Gate.
	"Oh, they have all been told what the Wizard's sur-
prise is, and are enjoying themselves immensely," re-
plied the Soldier wisely.
	"Oz, yes," sighed the Guardian. "I wish I had been
there when the Wizard told what his surprise was."
	"Don't fret, you'll be surprised, too----"
And then to the Soldier's own surprise, something
dashed, pell-mell, into him.
	It was a rude attack on his rear flank. The Soldier
leaped up with a shout.
	"Halt! In the name of the Army of Oz!" he de-
manded.
	"Yes, halt!" echoed the Guardian of the Gate. "You
can't come crashing into the city like this!"
	"What WAS it?" eried the Soldier.
	"I don't know. It went past me so fast, I couldn't
see anything but a red spot before my eyes."
	"At them!" yelled the Soldier with the Green
Whiskers, seizing his blunderbus and charging away.
	The Guardian looked after the Soldier and thought,
"I shouldn't have left the gate open, I suppose. But
now I'll keep it open so the Soldier can drive it right
out again."
	The Soldier with the Green Whiskers ran down the
street shouting, "Stop, stop, invader!"
	But the dashing red wagon did not stop. It only ran
faster, as the Sawhorse bolted through the city.
	"It's taken me such a long time to get here," the
Sawhorse was thinking. "Goodness knows what's hap-
pened to Jenny in the meantime. I must get her res-
cued, and nothing shall stop me!"
	Instead of heeding the commands of the Soldier and
all the population, the Sawhorse dashed more madly.
The children playing along the street climbed the trees
for safety. The trees pulled their lowest branches up
out of the way. The shoppers quickly vanished within
the stores. The stores drew in their steps and shut-
tered their windows. The houses leaned back from the
walks. Everything got out of the way of the panicky
Sawhorse.
	"Hold on!" shouted the Scarecrow, pulling on the
reins.
	And then the Sawhorse came to the Animal Enclo-
sure. This was a large garden where animals from all
of Oz were kept for the children to enjoy. The animals
were usually quiet and contented. Occasionally one
would try to slip away, but the trumpeting of Kabum-
po, the elephant, soon brought it back.
	A crowd of children were in the animal garden,
stroking and talking with the animals, when the Saw-
horse dashed in. The red wagon shot like a streak of
fury, the Scarecrow bounced up and down, and the
Tin Woodman bobbed madly.
	"Save Jenny! Save Jenny!" cried the Sawhorse.
	"Whoa! Stop, I say," shouted the Scarecrow.
	"Stop, invader! Treason! Help!" yelled the Soldier
with the Green Whiskers, running in the rear.
	The commotion frightened the children and the ani-
mals. They began to run around in circles. A pair of
purple donkeys broke their chains and galloped from
the Animal Enclosure. Kicking up their heels, they
vanished down the street. A blue giraffe and a yellow
chimpanzee broke forth, following the donkeys. See-
ing their comrades free, the other animals strained
and pulled at their chains, until more had broken loose.
Helter, Skelter, the pack and kaboodle went rushing
out of the Animal Enclosure. The people ran tumbling
out of their way. The stones and fences along the
streets tried to trip and ensnare the animals, but the
runaways escaped. Tigers, sheep, dragons mules
horses, and unicorns went charging toward the gate
of the Emerald City.
	"In the name of Oz, and all the Ozzians what is
coming?" cried the Guardian of the Gate, throwing up
his arms.
	The herd Was thundering toward him.
	"That's not the same thing that came in a few min-
utes ago," said the Guardian. "Whatever it is, I
mustn't let it escape."
	The Guardian ran to shut the gate. He succeeded in
closing it half-way, when the herd swept down on him,
pushing him aside and rushing out of the city.
	The Sawhorse, meanwhile, was once more running
through the city streets. At the corner of Strawberry
Street and Banana Boulevard, a group of children
were gathered around the free soda fountain. The
Sawhorse flew into the center of this group, scatter-
ing the children in all directions. On and on ran the
excited animal not stopping until it reached Ozma's
palace.
	Right up the stairs dashed the Sawhorse. The red
wagon rolled through the main corridor of the palace
and into Ozma's throne room. There it stopped.
	"Where is everyone?" panted the Sawhorse quite
out of breath.
	"Don't you remember?" answered the Scarecrow.
"Everyone's at Glinda's party."
	"That's so," the Sawhorse said regretfully. "How
silly of me to come here!"
	"You're not expected to have the good sense that I
have," said the Scarecrow, patting his own head.
	Just then a door at the side of the throne opened
and two girls came out. One was Jellia Jamb, Ozma's
personal maid. The other was Betsy Bobbin, who had
been invited to the palace for the day.
	Betsy was shipwrecked with Hank the Mule long
years ago. After many strange adventures, Betsy and
Hank had arrived in Oz, where they were soon made
to feel at home.
	"Well, look who's here!" cried Jellia, running to the
Sawhorse to stroke its smooth wooden back.
	Betsy went around to the side of the wagon and
exclaimed,
	"What ails the Tin Woodman? He looks petrified."
	"Cake's sake!" said Jellia, seeing Nick's condition.
"I'd say he looks ozzified."
	"He certainly is ozzified," said Betsy. "Is there
anything we can do, Scarecrow?"
	"Get an oilcan," the Scarecrow said promptly.
"Oh, dear, I'm so sorry! Only this morning we were
searching for an oilcan to oil a sewing machine. But
we couldn't find one anywhere."
	"Of course there must be many oilcans in the tower,
in the Wizard's workroom. But no one is allowed in
there," said Jellia.
	"That's right," added Betsy. "Number Nine and a
big clock flew away from there a while ago."
	"Foiled, instead of oiled!" said the Scraecrow. "Poor
Nick. He must be getting tired of stooping over like
that."
	The Scarecrow put his arm around his friend the
Woodman.
	"Oh, the poor thing!" cried the kind-hearted Jellia,
bursting into tears. "We must do something! How I
wish dear Ozma were here. She'd produce an oilcan
by magic."
	"Then we must go to Ozma," spoke Betsy decidedly.
"Right straight to Glinda's, where our queen now is."
	"That's right," Jellia said, nodding her head so that
her tears sprinkled the head of the Scarecrow.
	"Careful, please," warned the Scarecrow. "I'm not
much of a thinker when my brains get soaked.
	Betsy climbed into the red wagon. "Come on, Jel-
lia," she said. "We'll all go to Glinda's and see Ozma."
	"I've been wanting to do that all day," confessed
Jellia, her tears changing to a smile.
	When the two girls were seated in the red wagon,
the Sawhorse started out of the palace. This time he
ran sensibly through the streets, not alarming anyone.
	At the gate of the city, they met an obstacle. It
was the Guardian, who said,
	"Ah hoz, there you are! Stop, villain! What have
you done with my friend, the Soldier with the Green
Whiskers? His marbles are waiting for him."
	"I don't know anything about any soldier," the Saw-
horse said with dignity. "Kindly let me pass."
	"No, indeed. You made the animals run away. The
Soldier will put you in the Dungeon of Oblivion for
that!"
	Jellia leaned forward and said coaxingly, "If you
let us out, we'll find the animals and tell them to come
back."
	Just then the Soldier with the Green Whiskers came
running, pointing his blunt musket at the Sawhorse.
	"Stop, in the name of the Army of Oz!" cried the
Soldier with the Green Whiskers. "You have caused
a riot, disturbed the peace, and made the animals es-
cape."
	"What do you mean to do to me?" asked the Saw-
horse.
	The Soldier appeared to think for some moments.
Then he said, "I know a fitting punishment. You will
let me defeat you at a game of marbles."
	"Marbles!" snorted the Sawhorse. "Are you trying
to insult me? I'll never play marbles as long as I live!"
	"Do you prefer the dungeon?" thundered the Sol-
dier.
	"I'd prefer that you mind your own business," cried
the Sawhorse. Then, before anyone could say OZ! he
dashed away, carrying the red wagon through the city
gate.
	Down the road he ran, faster than he had ever run
before. As he ran he thought indignantly,
	"Arrest me, indeed! What had I done? I was only
trying to save Jenny. JENNY! I ALMOST FORGOT
HER!"
	And with that, the animal doubled its speed, flying
so that it scarcely touched the ground.
	It was not long before it overtook the other animals,
lumbering along the road.
	As the flying Sawhorse came near, the animals shied
and reared, then broke and ran.
	The entire herd was heading toward the red country
of the Quadlings. Seeing this, the Scarecrow said with
satisfaction, "That's fine! We'll soon all be at the pal-
ace of Glinda the Good."

CHAPTER 13

Save the Scalawagons"

JENNY said cheerfully, "Even if you can't fly
through the air, I think it can be done."
	"What can be done?" inquired Number Nine.
	"You can fly through the air."
	"You mean, even if we can't?" asked the clock.
"Yes. We must get away from this Lolly-Pop vil-
lage, over to the Sandy Waste. That's our best chance
to rescue the scalawagons," said Jenny.
	"But you haven't explained where our wings are
coming from," grumbled the clock. There was a look
of mistrust on its face. It was scowling so fiercely that
its hands were crossed.
	Jenny said, "Once I jumped in the Winkie Woods
holding the Scarecrow and the Tin Woodman by the
hand. This time we have more in the party. For we
can't leave Tik-Tok behind."
	"Oh-no,-please-don't," said Tik-Tok anxiously.
"Well, I'm sure if anyone is to be left, it can't be I.
I am much too important," said the clock, drawing it-
self up and scowling at Tik-Tok.
	Jenny burst out laughing. "Can you reach out one
of those hands and hold mine? Then give your other
hand to Tik-Tok. And you, Number Nine, hold my
other hand."
	The boy and the clock each took hold of one of
Jenny's hands. And the clock gave its other hand to
Tik-Tok, who stood swinging his rubber hammer.
	"Now, then, hold on for your life!" exclaimed Jenny
and she stamped her fairy foot against the ground.
	The next moment all four were sailing upward,
borne on Jenny's magical foot.
	"Whee-ee-ee!" cried the clock, its wheels whirring
around dizzily. "Even the ambassa-door wasn't so
abrupt. This upward movement is quite different from
the clockwise motion."
	"You'll be a wise clock if you keep silent and just
hold on," cautioned Number Nine.
	They were traveling so fast that the wind began to
whistle through the boy's breeches.
	Jenny laughed, "That reminds me of those whistle-
breeches we made for you last year, when you helped
me in my style shop."
	"They were supposed to make me hurry," said Num-
ber Nine, smiling at himself.
	"Well, you're hurrying now," said the clock. "Good-
ness me! I wish I were standing peacefully in the hall
of the tower."
	"What good is a clock that stands still?" said Jenny.
"We aren't any good if we're too fast, either," said
the clock. "Who ever heard of time flying?"
	"Your hands aren't where they should be, so you're
speaking quite pointlessly," said Jenny.
	"Furthermore," put in Number Nine, "One can't
tell time by you. I wonder how far that desert is?"
	"Time will tell," said the clock impertinently.
Tik-Tok, who had been silent all this while, suddenly
tocked, "Some-thing-down-be-low !"
	All three looked downward, and saw that they were
flying over the great Sandy Waste. Dark and forbid-
ding rocks jutted up from the sand. It was such a sin-
ister place that Jenny hesitated to descend. She could
see no sign of the scalawagons, even through her
magic eyeglass.
	The four kept flying, penetrating farther over the
dismal region of the desert. All sorts of queer, black
shapes were below, but whether they were monsters
or only rocks, Jenny could not tell.
"My-dear-scal-a-wag-ons. How-are-they-get-ting~a
long?" said Tik-Tok sadly.
	"There's something!" cried Jenny.
	A cloud of madly flying objects appeared below.
	Tik-Tok began swinging his hammer excitedly.
	"Let-me-at-'em!" he stuttered. "I'll-knock-more-
sense-in-to-'em!"
	"Are those the scalawagons?" asked Jenny won-
deringly. "Why, they act like flabbergasted crea-
tures."
	"They-are," said Tik-T6k. "That's-ex-act-ly-what-
ails-'em."
	But it seemed as if more than that ailed the scala-
Wagons. They seemed unable to fly. They were kept
in the air by the peli-cans, who held them by their tur-
rets.
	If they fell to the earth, they would be caught by the
brown swarm of Mifkits. A thousand of the creatures
were dancing excitedly, waiting for the fall of the
scalawagons. The poor peli-cans were getting tired,
but they held on with all their strength.
	The scalawagons had used up the flabbergas in their
tanks, and their energy was spent. If they hadn't been
heavier than the peli-cans, those faithful creatures
would have flown them back to Oz. But they could
only hover in the same spot, holding their scalawagons
out of reach of the Mifkits.
	Every minute the peli-cans were growing more tired.
	"Look, they are slowly dropping to the ground!"
shouted Number Nine.
	"They mustn't," cried Jenny, watching the Mifkits
and knowing that they meant to get their prey.
	"What can we do!" said the clock.
	"I-can't-man-age-to-think-of-any-thing," said Tik-
Tok miserably.
	Jenny swooped toward the nearest scalawagon and
kicked it with her fairy foot. As it passed, Tik-Tok
struck out with his hammer and gave it a smart click
on the side. At once it came to its senses and steered
itself toward Oz. Its eyes shone with gratitude. The
peli-can on its turret flapped its wings with joy.
	Jenny saw another scalawagon just about to drop,
and leaping toward it, she kicked it after the first.
Tik-Tok swatted it into sensibility.
	"Hurrah!" shouted Number Nine. "We're just in
time." Below, the ugly Mifkits danced with rage. One
Mifkit jumped so high, that he landed inside a low-
hanging scalawagon. Jenny did not notice, but kicked
this scalawagon after the others.
	It was hard work to send all the scalawagons into
safety. Jenny swooped here and there, working her
fairy foot with all her might.
	The clock seemed to enjoy swinging through the air
with Jenny.
	"Swing-time never came into my experience be-
fore," it said.
	"Jen-ny-is-indeed-won-der-ful," acknowledged Tik-
Tok with a grin.
	When there were only four scalawagons left, Jenny
said, "Let's each get into one. It will be pleasant to
return that way."
	Number Nine, the clock, Tik-Tok, and Jenny each
climbed into a scalawagon and turned their heads to-
ward Oz and safety.
	The Mifkits screamed. Then they began tearing
their clothes and pulling their hair. And finally they
fell upon each other and clawed and scratched and
banged one another.
	"Come back! Come back!" they screamed.
Jenny's scalawagon only hurried faster after the
others.

CHAPTER 14

The Great Reunion

FLYING directly toward the border of Oz, the
scalawagons soon used up the power of Jenny's
kick. They began to slow, leaving it to the peli-cans
to propel them along.
		"What's wrong?" worried Jenny. "We're almost
over the border. They mustn't fail us now!"
	Tik-Tok, flying in the scalawagon beside hers, cried
out, "They-need-more-peli-can-fluid-in-their-tanks	
	"Then let us land and attend to that," said Jenny.
In just a short distance, they gained the border. As
soon as they were safely across, the tired peli-cans
gave up trying to hold up the scalawagons. They be-
gan to drop, dangerously near the tiny village of the
Lolly-Pops.
	The scalawagons, not having eyes underneath them,
could not see where they were falling.

	They crashed to earth, landing in a tangle of wild
ozberry bushes. Every house in the village was shaken
by the shock. Several windows broke, and the flower
pots tumbled off every windowsill. The scalawagons
lay on their sides with their wheels spinning.
	From out of the small houses rushed the Lollies and
their Pops. They ran toward the scalawagons, curi-
ous to see what had struck their village. But they
stopped at a safe distance.
	"Whew!" said Jenny, climbing out of her scala-
wagon. She felt a bit dazed, but nothing worse.
	Number Nine jumped nimbly to his feet. He had
not been hurt. Tik-Tok, having a sound body, was
well. Only the clock was having trouble. In its ex-
citement it quickly climbed out of its scalawagon and
ran down the road.
	"Stop!" commanded Number Nine. "You can't run
down like that."
	But the clock had disappeared behind a tree.
	Tik-Tok assumed his place among the scalawagons,
putting them back on their wheels. Lifting his rubber
hammer with authority, he commanded the peli-cans,
"Fill-up-the-tanks."
	The peli-cans flew to do as they were bidden. In a
few minutes every scalawagon was prancing about
spiritedly, ready to take off again.
	"Just a moment," said Jenny. "We can't go off just
yet. We must do something about the damage we've
caused the Lollies."
	Turning to the Lollies, who were lingering just out
of reach, Jenny called,
	"I'm sorry we broke your windows and flower pots.
But don't worry. The Wizard will take care of every-
thing. He's the kindest Wizard that ever wizzed."
	At these words, the Lollies and Pops lost their fear.
The Pops came forward, leading their tiny daugh-
ter by the hand.
	"Thank you kindly," said one Pop. "Tell us more
about this Wizard."
	"You've never heard of the wonderful Wizard of
Oz!" exclaimed Jenny in astonishment.
	The Pop shook his head, and his daughter shook
hers.
	"Then I suppose you're one of the backward tribes
of Oz," said Jenny, giving the Pop a look of pity. "You
really should know the Wizard. And Ozma, too. She's
the dearest queen-"
	"That ever queened?" asked the Pop.
	Jenny burst out laughing. "That's one way of put-
ting it. Now, why don't all you folks get into the
scalawagons and come along to Glinda's? She'd be
delighted to have you. You can all meet the Wizard,
Ozma, and a lot of other interesting folks."
	The Lollies and Pops had listened eagerly to every
word. Now they looked at each other and asked,
	"Shall we go with her?"
	"How could we get back?"
	"We'll bring you safely back," Jenny promised.
The Lollies began to dance with excitement. It was
easy to see that they were eager to take a trip.
	The clock was peeping from behind a tree. Sud-
denly it struck the half-hour so loudly that everyone
looked its way.
	"I'm all wound up to go. Why are we still here?"
demanded the clock.
	"The-scal-a-wag-ons~are-read~y," said Tik-Tok.
	"Climb in, everyone," said Jenny.
	The clock came out from behind the tree, and
climbed into a car.
	The Lollies, now that they had got over their shy-
ness, were quick to climb into the scalawagons. As
they slid into the soft cushions, they smiled with de-
light. Never before had they known anything so com-
fortable.
	Tik-Tok waited until the last, making sure that
every scalawagon had its wits about it. Whenever
necessary, he gave one a tap with the rubber hammer
to make it smart.
	At last everyone was ready. Tik-Tok got into the
leading car. As he raised his copper arm in a signal,
the procession started.
	Jenny relaxed in the seat, closing her eyes with re-
lief. "This is simply scrumptious," she murmured.
	Number Nine was too much interested in the car's
make-up to feel sleepy. He was busy examining every
button on the dashboard. Suddenly he gave a shout,
waking Jenny.
	"What's wrong?" asked Jenny, sitting up.
	"Nothing's wrong. Everything's all right," shouted
the excited boy. "Look!"
	Jenny steered her scalawagon close to his and peered
over.
	Number Nine had discovered the LUNCH button.
	He pressed it, and a table, set for two, unfolded.
	"Oh, look, Jenny. You must join me."
	"It does look good," admitted Jenny, who felt rather
hungry.
	"Then why not come into my car," pleaded Number
Nine, with an unusually warm light in his blue eyes.
	Jenny was fond of the boy, who had formerly helped
her in her style shop. So she promptly called to the two
scalawagons to stop while she climbed over beside
Number Nine.
	The boy and the girl ate their lunch with enjoyment.
There were a meat pie, delicious muffins, sliced
bananas, blueberry pudding, and two large glasses
of milk. When Jenny had eaten half of her blueberry
pudding, it changed to a strawberry ice.
	"Oh, my," marveled Jenny. "Nobody but the Wiz-
ard could have invented anything so grand!"
	"I'm surprised he didn't think of it before," said
Number Nine.
	"Keep on being surprised," said Jenny. "That's
what you're supposed to be."
	"I'll stay surprised until we reach Glinda's. Then
everyone will be surprised together," said Number
Nine.
	The scalawagon parade kept rolling easily along
the red road. Already the red towers of Glinda's palace
could be seen.
	Jenny finished eating and opened her handbag.
"Time to put away my magic gifts." She put back the
eyeglass, the mittens, the earmuffs, and the left-
footed shoe. Then she patted her hair.
	"Dear, I hope I don't look all frazzled out!"
	"You look fine to me," said Number Nine admir-
ingly. "But don't forget your coronet, Duchess
Jenny!"
	"I almost did forget," said Jenny. When she had
put on her coronet, she sat up straighter. "There, I
feel better."
	"You always look pretty, your grace," said the boy,
addressing her as a duchess ought to be addressed.
He added mischievously, "As my name is Number
Nine, I'm lucky to be with you."
	"You're my lucky number," said Jenny, merrily.
"Well, will you listen to the people at Glinda's shout-
ing? They've caught sight of the scalawagons."
	The palace grounds seemed to be leaping into the
air, as the people there jumped up and down in their
excitement.
	"Hurrah for the Wizard's surprise," shouted every-
one.
	The scalawagons stopped. Tik-Tok climbed out, his
body ticking with pride.
	"The-great-wiz-ard-made-one-for-each-of-you," he
announced.
	"HURRAH!"
	The people kept shouting and jumping in their hap-
piness.
	The Wizard stood beaming and chuckling and nod-
ding his head.
	Princess Dorothy borrowed a handkerchief from
Ozma to weep her tears of joy. Then Ozma borrowed
it back, as her own eyes filled.
	"Never before have all our subjects been able to
go anywhere they wished. But with these scala-
wagons, there will be more traveling all over Oz," said
Queen Ozma.
	Jenny went up to Glinda. "I have another suprise,"
said Jenny. "I have brought the Lollies and the Pops.
	"Indeed?" said Glinda with a smile. "Bring them
to me, dear. They shall receive a royal welcome."
	Jenny went to the scalawagons, where the Lollies
and their fathers sat quite pop-eyed at all they saw.
	"Come and meet the rulers of Oz," said Jenny. She
led them through the throng of people toward Glinda's
chair. Queen Ozma and Princess Dorothy, sitting on
either side of Glinda, joined in the greetings.
	The Lollies looked with admiration on the three
girls. Ozma, for all that she was queen, was dressed
in simple white, with a blazing green OZ on her crown.
Dorothy was dressed in a short dress and socks, like
many another girl in the U.S.A., where she had come
from. And Glinda was robed in shining red, with her
ruby-tipped wand in her hand.
	"Aren't there any more rulers in Oz?" asked Minty,
when she had gathered enough courage to speak.
	"Jo-King of the Gillikans is away on a leave of
absence. The Scarecrow, ruler of the Munchkins, and
the Tin Woodman, emperor of the Winkies, are also
absent," Glinda explained.
	Behind Glinda's chair the Cowardly Lion and the
Hungry Tiger sat in respectful silence. But the
Hungry Tiger was licking his chops as he gazed on
the delicious Lollies and Pops.
	"Here," said Jenny, going up to the hungry beast.
"There is no need for you to be hungry ever again.
You will have your own scalawagon, equipped with
everlasting lunch."
	The animal bounded up, crying joyously, "Where
is it? Lead me to it!"
	He leaped toward the nearest scalawagon, and
squeezed his huge body inside. In another moment he
pressed his paw on the LUNCH button and began.
	The Cowardly Lion grinned sheepishly, saying, "I
was afraid to go near those cars. But I guess they
won't hurt me."
	He rose and walked with dignity toward a nearby
scalawagon, and climbed in. The people cheered the
Lion, who looked proud of his momentary courage.
	"So you did rescue the scalawagons, didn't you?"
said Glinda, patting Jenny's hair. "We followed your
progress in my big book of events."
	"Oh, then you must know what became of the Saw-
horse, the Scarecrow and the Tin Woodman," said
Jenny. "I lost them in the Winkie Woods."
	"They'll be here, never fear," smiled Ozma. "And
meanwhile, we must thank you, Jenny dear. What
you did was very brave."
	"It was nothing," said Jenny, blushing. "If it hadn't
been for my fairy gif-"
	Before Jenny could finish, a fresh excitement was
heard at the rear of the crowd. Everyone turned, and
then scattered to shelter, as a host of animals came
dashing up.
	They were the runaways from the Animal Enclo-
sure. Still running away from the Sawhorse, they had
come straight to Glinda's palace. Behind the beasts
the red wagon could be seen flashing down the Red
Road.
	Before the people grew really frightened, Ozma
raised her hand, and at once the animals stopped.
Looking around with astonished expressions, they
seemed to be wondering how they had got into such
an elaborate party with so many good things growing
on the trees ready to be eaten.
	Then into the confusion came Scraps, the patchwork
girl, tumbling in a series of cartwheels.
"I can't believe my ears and eyes,
Every minute another surprise!"
	"See here," spoke out an old blue mule, "We're a
long way from home."
	"If you don't get away from me and stop kicking,
I'll breathe fire down your back," said a small drag-
onette, edging away from the blue mule.
	"Here, what's all this quarreling?" began a Munch-
kin farmer. "You animals never should have left
the Emerald City."
	"Well, don't you think we ever want a day off?"
grumbled a monkey, looking very cross. Then it saw
Scraps tumbling on the lawn and ran to tumble be-
side her.
	"You shall have the day off," spoke Ozma, holding
up her hand for silence again. "Since you always give
the people of my land enjoyment, it is only fair that
you enjoy a day yourselves. So get into the scala-
wagons. They're quite a treat!"
	The animals ran to the scalawagons and climbed
in. Kabumpo, the elephant, could not possibly squeeze
his bulk into one car. The people laughed and shouted
advice, but Kabumpo used his own head. He stood up
with his front legs on two cars and his hind legs on
two others. When he lifted his trunk, a pleased smile
could be seen on his mouth.
Now the Sawhorse dashed up, shouting,
"Save Jenny! Save Jenny!"
And then his eyes fell on Jenny, standing safe and
sound before him. His jaw dropped in surprise, and
he muttered,
	"You are saved."
	"I'm all right," laughed Jenny. "But those poor
creatures in the wagon!"
	She pointed to the Scarecrow and the Tin Woodman.
They were indeed a sight. The Scarecrow was so
shaken that his stuffing stuck out in lumps, with
empty places in the rest of his clothing. His brains
were sagging all to one side of his head, where his
mathematical genius was. The rest of his head was
empty. All he could say was,
	"Nine hundred and ninety-nine miles. Double it and
subtract ninety-nine miles, and divide by nine. Add
	"Poor Scarecrow," cried Jenny, running to his as-
sistance. She lifted him up and placed him on the
ground, shaking him as she did so. As the straw
settled into place, the old look returned to the Scare-
crow's face. His intelligence became rounded again.
Raising his hands, he smoothed himself into shape.
	"Hello, everyone!" he said happily, looking about.
"Hurrah!" shouted the people, and the Munchkins
especially, who loved their Scarecrow king.
	Now the Scarecrow was himself again. But the Tin
Woodman still sat forlornly, bent double, and looking
at his toes.
	"An oilcan, an oilcan!" cried the Scarecrow.
	The people began to search themselves, going
through all their pockets and possessions. But no oil-
can could be produced.
	"I-have-it!" ticked Tik-Tok excitedly. "If-no-oil-
can,-then-a-peli-can."
	He lifted his finger and pointed at a peli-can
perched on a scalawagon's turret. Instantly the crea-
ture flew toward the Tin Woodman. It gave the Wood-
man a thorough oiling, probing its beak into every
hinge and joint. Then the people had new cause for
shouting, especially the Winkies. For they saw their
emperor, the Tin Woodman, straighten up, take off
his hat, and bow to all the assemblage.
	"I never felt more upright," he said with a grin.
"Thank you, my good people, for this great welcome."
	"It's good to hear your voice again," said the Scare-
crow, with tears of happiness running down his cheeks.
The two old friends embraced.
	"I could see and hear all the time, but I could do
nothing," went on the Tin Woodman. "There were
a few times when I felt pretty anxious here" He
placed his hand to his breast, indicating the position
of his heart, which the Wizard had given him long
ago. "But everything has turned out fine!"
	"HURROZ! HURROZ! HURROZ!" The people
shouted themselves hoarse. Blue, red, yellow, and
purple waved wildly on every side.
	Betsy and Jellia Jamb slipped down from the wagon
and ran to Ozma.
	"This is a happy reunion," said Glinda. "And now
that we are all together, let us all get into the scala-
wagons and go for a ride."

CHAPTER 15

The Scalawagon Parade

THE Lollies and their Pops had stood speechless all
this time. Their eyes and ears were stretched
wide, and the smiles on their faces told of their delight.
Everything at Glinda's party was new and wonderful
to these little folk. Even Minty was silent.
	But when Glinda proposed a ride, Minty found her
voice and cried out coaxingly,
	"Your Majesty, won't you come and see our village?
The road is smooth, and we could have a beach party
at the Singing Brook."
	"A beach party?" spoke up Dorothy. "That sounds
just elegant!"
	"But what about bathing suits?" asked Aunt Em
in a practical tone. "We didn't bring any to this lawn
party!"
	"Bathing suits will be furnished to everyone," put
in Minty's Pop. Since Tik-Tok had knocked sense into
Pop's head, he was a changed creature. The laziness
was gone, and a look of good humor lit up his face.
	"It sounds perfectly grand," exclaimed Queen Ozma.
Turning to Glinda, she added, "Let's do it!"
	"Of course," said Minty, "we wouldn't bathe our-
selves. We'd dissolve. But you folks could have a
glorious swim.
	"Dear Wizard, would you like to make the an-
nouncement to all the people?" said Glinda. She
turned to where the Wizard had been standing. But
there was no one there. Again, the Wizard had quietly
vanished. Only a moment before he had been talking
to Number Nine and Tik-Tok.
	"Too bad, I think he would have enjoyed going
along," said Glinda. "However, he must have impor-
tant business to attend to."
	Glinda made the announcement herself. The people
tumbled joyously into the scalawagons. Scraps somer-
saulted over three scalawagons before she settled into
the fourth one. Beside her Jack Pumpkinhead sat
quite dignified, but his carved grin showed his secret
delight.
	Captain Salt shouted, "Heave to! Anchors away!"
and stood up in his scalawagon as if he were at the
prow of a ship.
	Sir Hokus drew his short sword and held it aloft.
He climbed onto his scalawagon's hood as if it were
a horse, crying,
	"On to conquest! Whosoever needs succor shall
have a valiant knight!"
	"Does he mean we're staying out all night?" anx-
iously inquired the Cowardly Lion.
	Dorothy laughed and patted the Lion's mane, reas-
suring him.
	Tik-Tok was in the leading scalawagon, and the
procession was almost ready to go, when it was dis-
covered that there were not enough scalawagons.
Even though the people were taking their children
and their pets in with them, the scalawagons wouldn't
go around.
	"We can't leave anyone behind. It would make them
unhappy," said the kind-hearted Tin Woodman.
	But just then a shout told everyone to look to the
rear. All heads turned. There, from the direction of
Carrot Mountain, came a procession of shiny, new,
many-colored scalawagons. In the first scalawagon
was the Wizard, beaming like a brand-new sun ray.
	"So that's where you were. Up in the workshop
making more scalawagons to make more people
happy," said Ozma with a smile.
	"Yes, your highness. Now we can all get on our
way," said the great Wizard of Oz. "And meanwhile,
the Production Department is turning out scala-
wagons for the rest of Oz. I've instructed the cars
to go their way when they are ready. Soon everybody
in all the land will be supplied with a conveyance of
his own."
	"Splendid!" cried Ozma, forgetting that she was a
queen, and jumping up and down like an excited girl.
	Everybody was now laughing and having a lively
time. Then Tik-Tok gave the signal, and the proces-
sion started. The scalawagons rolled onto the broad
highway leading to the village of the Lolly-Pops.
	They had gone a short way, when something ar-
rested Ozma's attention. She ordered the scala-
wagons to stop.
	There by the roadside stood the Sawhorse. He was
no longer hitched to the red wagon. He stood with
his head hanging down, like a grazing horse. But of
course the Sawhorse never grazed. He never ate.
	"Why are you hanging your head like that? Why
aren't you in the procession with us?" asked Ozma
kindly.
	"Be carried around in one of those baby carriages?"
said the Sawhorse, snorting. "No, thanks! They're
nothing but a lot of gaudy flapdoodle!"
	"Jealous again !" said Jenny angrily. "First you
were jealous of the blue mule, and now it's the scala-
wagons."
	"I feel bluer than a mule myself," admitted the Saw-
horse.
	Hearing this, Scraps tried to cheer up the wooden
animal.
	"Whatever you think,
	Whatever you do,
	Try to feel pink
	Instead of blue!"
advised the patchwork girl.
	The Sawhorse looked gratefully at Scraps and said,
"Thanks. I'd like to take your advice. But with these
scalawagons, my work in Oz is over. Nobody likes
to feel useless, you know."
	"So that's it!" said Ozma. "Well, don't fret your-
self, little Sawhorse. We'll always need you, to carry
messages to our far-away friends, like Professor Wog-
glebug over at the College of Learning in the Munch-
kin country. You shall be our carrier. And Scraps
will be our dispatch-work girl."
	"Oh, thank you!" cried Scraps, forgetting to rhyme
her words. Her black button eyes gleamed. "Come
on, Sawhorse, get in beside me. We must stick to-
gether."
	"You'll need a messenger's suit," said Jenny. "To-
morrow, come to my style shop, and get something to
suit you."
	The Sawhorse felt better now and was willing to
climb into the scalawagon with Scraps and Jack
PuInpkinhead.
	Once more the procession rolled onward, skimming
over lazy cows napping in the road. Everyone settled
back to enjoy himself. Uncle Henry and Aunt Em
settled back with happy smiles. But the next instant
Aunt Em jumped up with a scream, almost falling
out of the car.
	"What in the name of Oz is the matter?" asked
Uncle Henry in astonishment.
	Aunt Em was screeching in fright and couldn't an-
swer.
	"See here, Em. If anything is wrong-"
	"Wrong! Wrong!" cried Aunt Em. "I should say
there is! I sat on something-a great big tack, or
worse!"
	She stood clinging to Uncle Henry in terror. Uncle
Henry looked down at the seat and his eyes opened
wide.
	"It's not a tack, Em! I never saw a tack gnash its
teeth!" He reached to pick up the thing, and got his
hand bitten.
	Uncle Henry, who could whip his weight in wild-
cats back in Kansas, soon had the snarling thing by
the neck. "Whatever you are, you'll have to learn
some manners," he said, giving the Thing a sound
shaking.
	"Good gracious and sakes alive!" exclaimed Aunt
Em in horror. "Get that hideous critter out of my
sight!"
	Uncle Henry pulled off one of his big boots and
shoved in the head of the Thing.
	"My, what a fright," said Aunt Em, sitting down
again. "It almost spoiled this lovely ride."
	"I wonder what the Thing-a-ma-jig is?" said Uncle
Henry. "As soon as we arrive where we're goin', I'll
ask Ozma."
	"Get rid of it," said Aunt Em. "Or we'll have trouble
on our hands."
	"Or in my boot," said Uncle Henry. "But don't
Worry, Em. It's quite safe for the time being."
	"The critter was nastier than a rattlesnake and a
skunk all rolled into one," said Aunt Em with a
shudder.
	"You need something to take your mind off it," said
Uncle Henry. "Here, look at this button marked
'lunch.' We could both do with a bite of something."
He looked at the hand that had been bitten and cor-
rected himself, "I mean we might bite something our-
selves."
	Aunt Em was examining the lunch button. "Henry!"
she cried. "This does beat anything I ever saw! Get-
tin' lunch without even cookin' an egg. What won't
they think of next?"
	Then Aunt Em pushed the lunch button, saying,
"Wouldn't it be nice if a turkey dinner came out, with
cranberries and apple dressing! And pie and coffee
and sugar-mints, and ice cream."
	The table unfolded itself from the wall of the car,
and before their eyes were all the dishes Aunt Em
had wished for.
	"Well, I'll be blowed!" exploded Uncle Henry.
"Don't say that!" cried Aunt Em. "It reminds me
of that awful cyclone that blew Dorothy away from
us, long ago."
	"Well, Dorothy was blown to Oz, and that's how we
came here, and we're quite happy about it, aren't we?"
said Uncle Henry.
	"That's so. We're tremendously happy, dear." Aunt
Em gave Uncle Henry's hand an affectionate squeeze.
They began to eat their lunch.
	The afternoon was mild, and the fragrance of thou-
sands of red flowers filled the air. After so many hours
of excitement, the little Lollies were getting drowsy.
Long before the parade reached their village, the tiny
tots were fast asleep. They lay curled in their Pops'
arms. For now the old fellows were ready to do their
duty as fathers.
	"Don't wake them," said Glinda, smiling. "Since
they can't swim, they might as well sleep."
	Soon the scalawagons rolled into the Lolly-Pop vil-
lage. As the Wizard saw the damage done to the
houses, he made some passes in the air and the houses
became as good as new.
	When they passed their own homes, the Pops whis-
pered goodbye and carried their sleeping Lollies in-
side.
	The scalawagons rolled on to the red Singing Brook.
Without a word of direction, they parked themselves
in perfect order along the bank. The Wizard looked
well pleased. As for Tik-Tok, the manager, he beamed
like a polished copper pan.
	The tall clock stood up in one of the rear scala-
wagons and called,
	"I hope nobody expects me to get into the swim! I
just came along so you'd have plenty of time."
	"But you must have a good time, too," said Num-
ber Nine.
	"Swimming is a waste of my time," said the clock.
It slumped down in its scalawagon, which it was shar-
ing with a Comfortable Camel.
	"Hump!" said the Camel. "I'll just take a drink
of that water to keep from getting thirsty for a couple
of weeks."
	Uncle Henry and Aunt Em had finished their lunch,
and the table had folded itself back in place. Aunt
Em sighed thankfully that there were no dishes to be
washed.
	"Well, then, Henry, now that the folks are con-
gregated at the swimmin' hole, are you goin' to do
something about that-that-critter in your boot?"
she asked.
	"You bet my boots I am," he said instantly. Getting
up, he helped Aunt Em out of the scalawagon.
	"Come straight to the Wizard. He'll know what to
do with it," said Aunt Em.
	"That's just what I'm aimin' to do, Em."
	The two walked directly toward the Wizard, who
was just then descending from his scalawagon. Uncle
Henry carried the boot out at arm's length. When
he got near the Wizard, he held the boot toward him,
saying,
	"There's a whelp of snarlin' meanness inside this
boot. It was pesterin' Aunt Em a while ago. Be care-
ful. Warn all the people to keep their distance."
	The Wizard took the boot, held it upside down and
shook it. Down fell a fiercely scowling little brown
monster. It hopped up and down in a rage, spitting
and gnashing its wooden teeth, and then made as if
to get away.
	"I forbid you to leave!" said the Wizard, holding
up his powerful hand.
	The little creature instantly cowered there, not mov-
ing an inch. But the Wizard had not forbidden it to
scowl, and scowl it did, more frightfully than ever.
	"Balls of brimstone!" said Uncle Henry. "He looks
as if he'd gobble you up!"
	"What in Oz is it?" asked Em.
The Wizard smiled quite cheerfully. "It isn't any-
thing in Oz. Nothing so hideous lives in our fair land.
It's from over the Sandy Waste beyond our borders.
Lost, strayed, or stolen, it's a-
MIFKIT."
	
CHAPTER 16

The Lost Mifkit

	THE people in the surrounding scalawagons
crowded around the Wizard as they heard him
pronounce the dreadful name of MIFKIT, who could
remove his head in a second and throw it at you.
 	"Cake's sake!" cried Jellia Jamb, hiding behind
Ozma and peeping fearfully around her.
 Tik-Tok paled to a light brassy color.
	 "How-did-that-get-in-to-one-of-the-prec-ious-scala
wag-ons?" he said faintly. "I-was-too-run-down-to-
pre-vent-it."
"It's not too surprising," said Jenny Jump. She had
crowded close to the Wizard and was staring down
at the Mifkit.
	"When I discovered the scalawagons in the Sandy
Waste, they were flying low and the Mifkits were
jumping high. So I suppose this one jumped right into
one of the scalawagons."
	"And it had to be mine," said Aunt Em ruefully.
	"But then, I'd rather have it happen to me than some-
body who'd have been scared."
She looked at Uncle Henry, who was smiling broadly.
	"What are you smiling at, Henry? Are you sug-
gesting that I was scared?"
	"Oh, not in the least, my dear. Not in the least!"
He winked at his niece Dorothy.
	"Well, what have we here?" It was Ozma, who had
just come up. "A Mifkit, I declare! We haven't been
bothered with them for years."
	"You must do something about this one, your High-
ness," said the Wizard.
	"Yes, I suppose so," said Ozma. She thought a mo-
ment. "I must hurry, or our beach party will be
spoiled," she said.
Ozma put her hand into her pocket and drew out
a ring with a large sparkling emerald.
She looked at the scowling Mifkit. "How would you
like to be a winder?" she said.
	"I'd rather be a wonder," promptly said the Mifkit.
	"Please answer my question," said Ozma firmly.
	"How would you like to be a winder?"
	"All right, provided I don't wind up too different
from what I am. I like myself now."
	"Then you are an exception," said Ozma. "But
you'll like being a winder. She put on her ring.
	"Wait! Are the meals regular?" snarled the Mifkit.
Ozma ignored this. She pointed the finger with the
beautiful emerald straight at the top button of the
Mifkit's jacket.
"Now you're a winder!"
The little Mifkit felt himself all over.
	"This isn't so bad," he said.
	"Henceforth you will see that Tik-Tok never runs
down again," said the Ozma. "The Wizard will explain
your duties."
	The Mifkit was scratching himself all over. For
such a transformation as he had just had itches.
	The Wizard said, "Look here, Mifkit. I'll explain
how to wind Tik-Tok."
While the Mifkit went on scratching, the Wizard
Pointed to an engraved copper plate on Tik-Tok's back.
There was some writing on this plate. The Wizard
read it aloud:

SMITH & TINKER
Patent double-action, extra responsive, thought
creating, perfect talking
MECHANICAL  MAN
Fitted with our special clockwork
special attachment.
THINKS -- SPEAKS -- ACTS -- AND
DOES EVERYTHING
DIRECTIONS

For
THINKING::Wind clockwork man under LEFT
		 ARM (Marked No.1)

For
SPEAKING::Wind clockwork man under RIGHT
	  	 ARM (Marked No.2)

For
WALKING &
ACTION  ::Wind Clockwork man, middle of
		BACK (Marked No.3)

GUARANTEE
This mechanism is guaranteed to work perfectly
for a Thousand Years.
	The Wizard pointed to the three winding keys.
"Now, get busy!"
	The Mifkit jumped to Tik-Tok's shoulder and be-
gan to wind. But Tik-Tok was pretty well wound up
already, and reaching up, he removed the tiny Mif-
kit, placing him on the ground.
	The Mifkit jumped straight onto Tik-Tok's head.
Reaching into Tik-Tok's breast pocket, he pulled forth
a handkerchief and began to polish Tik-Tok's head
with great energy.
	"Good-ness-me," said the even-tempered copper
man. "Must-I-en-dure-all-this?"
	"He is your own personal helper," said the Wizard
to Tik-Tok. "You'll find him very useful when you
need him. When you want him to remain quiet, tell
him so. He must obey you in everything."
	"Be-good-e-nough-to-sit-quiet-ly-on-my-head," corn-
manded Tik-Tok.
	The Mifkit crossed his legs and sat still on top of
Tik-Tok's head.
	More scalawagons had been coming up and park-
ing themselves in a triple row along the bank of
the Singing Brook. The brook had stopped singing
when the first scalawagons appeared, but as it got
Used to the little ears, it resumed its merry song.
	Suddenly one scalawagon came, elickity-click, to-
ward the bank. Instead of parking itself in an orderly
manner, it raced up to the water, leaped over the bank,
and fell in with a loud SPLASH!
	When the car righted itself, there was Captain Salt,
the pirate, standing at the steering wheel and shout-
ing,
"Avast, you land lubbers! Hard aport--and Ahoy!"
Hundreds of water fairies appeared above the
water. From behind the waterfall peeped the mis-
chievous boy kelpies. Then, plop! kelpies and water
fairies vanished from sight
	The pirate kept sailing his car like a ship, calling,
"Heave to! Trim to the wind!"
	The animals from the animal enclosure were de-
lighted. Leaping from their scalawagons, they gal-
loped toward the water and jumped in. Kabumpo, the
elephant, stood in the knee-high water, snorting
through his trunk.
	Ozma, the Wizard, Glinda, Jenny, Dorothy, Betsy,
and Jellia Jamb walked along looking for a place to
get some bathing suits.
	"Here is the place, I believe," said Jenny. She
pointed to a row of large mushrooms growing on the
bank. From one of the mushrooms hung a sign:


				BATHING PAVILION
						&
				AMUSEMENT PARK
				Hopfrog, Esq.
				Amusement Master

	"What a jolly place," said Jenny, hurrying for-
ward.
	The big mushrooms proved to be little bath houses,
connected by a trim little walk. Behind the bath houses
a row of red bath towels were drying on a clothes line.
Suddenly the important bull frog with the deep voice
and the gold watch chain appeared. He was strutting
with the grand air of a showman.
	"Good day, and welcome to my pavilion," he
croaked. His fingers were playing with the watch
chain, which the kelpies had once stolen from him,
but which they had at last returned.
	"Do you want a bath house?" he asked. "Every-
thing is free. Kindly avail yourselves of the opportu-
nities at your disposal."
	"Thank you," said Ozma with a gracious smile.
Inside the bath houses the visitors found bathing
suits of every size. Soon everyone was ready. Some
ran down to the water and began to swim. Those
who could not swim were held up by the water fairies,
who carried them across to the tune of the Singing
Brook. The kelpies came out from behind the water-
fall and amused the visitors by their queer antics.
Several kelpies began to teach Number Nine how to
slide down the waterfall.
	Some of the visitors preferred to sit in the reclining
chairs on the bank. These were the characters who
would be spoiled by getting a wetting-the Scarecrow,
Scraps, the Tin Woodman, Jack Pumpkinhead, the
clock, and Tik-Tok. They were having a splendid time
listening to the music and laughing at the animals.
Soon a dainty little lady frog came skipping up. She
carried a basket, which she held out to them.
	"Anything you'd like? Please help yourselves.
Everything is free."
	The basket was filled with candy, soda pop, oz cream,
and bubble gum.
	The Scarecrow answered,
"Thank you, madam. But as we never eat, we must
decline."
	The lady frog hopped away. She came to Jenny,
Glinda, Dorothy, Betsy, and Aunt Em, who were play-
ing games on the bank. To these people she offered
her basket. The good things were readily accepted.
	"What a perfect day for the beach," said Jenny,
looking up. "Only one cloud in the whole sky."
	Aunt Em's gaze followed Jenny's.
"If that's a cloud, it's acting mighty queer," de-
clared Aunt Em.
	High in the sky the gigantic cloud seemed to burst
into a hundred pieces, then come together again.
	Glinda and the others looked upward. "It certainly
is strange. I can't tell from this distance just what
it might be," said Glinda.
	"Neither can I," said Dorothy and Betsy.
	"Shall I go to the bath house and get my fairy eye-
glass?" asked Jenny.
	"There seems no need of that," said Glinda, study-
ing the sky. "The spot - whatever it is - is coming
downward!"
	All of them looked intently at the sky. Yes, there
could be no doubt of it. The mysterious matter was
certainly heading their way.

CHAPTER 17

Old Acquaintances Return

WE ought to warn Ozma and the Wizard," cried
Jenny.
	"They are having such a good time, it's a shame
to disturb them," said Glinda.
	She indicated the Singing Brook, where Ozma and
the Wizard were watching a game of blind man's buff.
Captain Salt's eyes were blindfolded, and he was
Stumbling around, trying to catch Number Nine. But
he had wandered behind the waterfall and lost his way.
The kelpies swam behind him, giving him a push.
Three green monkeys and a dragonette had joined
in the game. Every time Captain Salt came near the
dragonette, she squealed and let out a small jet of
fiery breath, which was quickly quenched in the water.
	"Yes," said Jenny, "they are certainly enjoying
themselves. Let's not bother them until IT gets here."
	While they stood watching, the cloudy matter came
closer. It kept separating and uniting again, in a
peculiar fashion.
	"It isn't a Kansas cyclone," declared Aunt Em.
"That stays together until it's nipped you. Then, look
out!"
	"That's right," said Dorothy, nodding. "I remember
how a cyclone picked up our house, with me and my
dog Toto inside, and carried us clear to Oz. It seems
a long time ago."
	"You are still the dear little girl you were then,"
smiled Glinda. "You aren't any older!"
	"That's because in Oz everyone stops growing at
the age he'd always like to be," said Dorothy.
	"I think it's a grand system," said Jenny.
While they talked, the object in the sky was coming
nearer. Suddenly Aunt Em cried out, "If my old eyes
don't deceive me, it isn't one big thing. It's a lot of
little things!"
	"That's right," said Glinda. "And they appear to
have wings. But not where wings should be. These
have their wings in front."
Jenny stared hard. There was something familiar
about those flying objects. But without her fairy eye-
glass, she could not be sure.
The flying fragments came nearer.
	"What strange little people," cried out Betsy.
Glinda smiled. "Let them come. They are harmless.
But I'm sure I've never seen them before."
	"I have!" cried Jenny, all at once recognizing the
creatures. They were little men with bells on their
heads and long beards that were stretched out on the
breeze like wings.
	"The Nota-bells !" she cried. "What brings them
here?"
	"Their beards," replied Aunt Em. "I must say, it's
the first time I've seen beards used for such a pur-
pose."
	The Nota-Bells had now flown so close that their
music could be heard.
	"What lovely chimes," said Betsy. "Reminds me of
Christmas back in the U.S.A."
	"You'll like the bell-men," said Jenny. They are
such gentle little men."
	"And little gentlemen, too, I hope," said Aunt Em.
"I must ask Ozma to come and welcome them," said
Glinda, slipping away. Meanwhile, the Nota-bells were
landing. Jenny recognized all eighty-eight of them.
Their leader now was the vesper bell, who swept her
a bow and said,
	"We welcome ourselves back to your presence, miss.
These, I suppose, are also girls?"
	The vesper bell pointed to Dorothy and Betsy.
	"That's right," said Jenny, adding, "And Aunt Em
is a woman. Come and meet all our friends, including
animals, hand-made creatures, a Wizard, a sorceress,
and a queen."
	"Do you mean those water spirits out there?" said
the bell-man, indicating those who were playing in
the brook.
	Jenny laughed. "They don't spend all their time
in the water. Come along, and bring your band with
you."
	The leader walked with Jenny toward the brook.
The other bells followed in a group, forming a semi-
circle around Aunt Em, Betsy and Dorothy. As they
approached the water, Ozma came forth to greet them.
She was clad in a bathing suit of green scales, and
the water dripped off in bits of song.
	"Singing scales," said the bell-leader admiringly.
"Maybe we could have a duet?"
	"Thank you, I'd like that," replied the gracious
queen. "But first, you must come and have a swim
with us."
	"Oh, I couldn't be ringing wet," declined the bell.
"But perhaps-I know! We'll take the necessary pre-
cautions."
	So saying, he lifted the bell off his head and buried
it in the sand. "My, what a weight off my mind," he
sighed. The other bell-men followed their leader, and
soon every bell was buried. The eighty-eight heads
were quite bald from having worn the bells so long.
The little old men went into the bath houses and came
out clad in bathing suits of stripes, spots, plaids, and
checkers.
	Ozma led the way to the water. The little men lifted
their beards high and waded in.
	In the middle of the brook, Ozma introduced the
bell-men to the Wizard.
	"This is our wonderful Wizard of Oz. And these are
the Nota-bells."
	"What part of Oz are you folks from?" asked the
Wizard genially.
	"We don't know," replied the leader. "We've been
lost and wandering for so long, we don't even remem-
ber the name of our tribe."
	The Wizard turned to Ozma "Your Highness can
enlighten them, surely?"
	"When we return to the Emerald City, I'll look into
my records," said Ozma. "There are sure to be musical
records among the rest."
	"You've never showed up in the teletable, or I'd
have seen you," spoke up Number Nine.
	"Maybe they did before you came to be my helper,"
the Wizard said. "In that case, they'll be in an old
notebook of mine.
	"It will be a great relief to find out who we are,"
said the bell leader.
	"Cakes sake! Don't you remember anything about
yourselves at all?" asked Jellia Jamb, staring curi-
ously.
	The bell-man shook his head. "Nothing, except that
we have a great enemy, who shadows us wherever
go. We can't draw a free breath on account of him."
	"Shadows you?" said Jenny. "Why, there is a great,
big shadow all over you right now!"
	This was true. Though the sun was still shining ill
the red sky, a dark shadow had suddenly fallen over
the band of bell-men.
	"LOOK OUT!" shrieked one. Instantly all of them
scampered toward the bank. Leaping out of the water,
they dug up their bells, and hastily clapped them on
their heads.
	Ozma and her party looked up, trying to learn what
was casting the enormous shadow. But nothing was
to be seen. The air was suddenly heavy, and a bad
smell had come into it. The music of the brook stopped.
The water fairies hid deep below the water, and the
kelpies disappeared behind the waterfall.
	"There is some menace nearby," said the Wizard.
The animals, too, were acting strangely. All at once
they quit the water and went loping toward the scala-
wagons.
	"Look, there!" shrieked the leader of the bell-men.
He pointed up the brook. Everyone turned. Coming
from the distance was a huge lumbering Shape, quite
shapeless. Its great shadow flickered before it, search-
ing out the bell-men.
	"It smells familiar," said the Wizard. His nostrils
began to twitch. "I've smelled that smell before."
	"What can it be?" said Ozma. She was extremely
puzzled.
	The bells began to clang in alarm, and at that in-
stant Tik-Tok began to tock in agitation. He had a
feeling that he had met the monster somewhere be-
fore.
	"It looks like a bloated bladder," said Uncle Henry.
	"Or a big rubber ghost," added Dorothy.
	"1t's a strange apparition," said the Wizard.
	"But what is it really?" asked Ozma.
	"That's just the Mystery!" all exclaimed ill a chorus.

CHAPTER 18

The Rubber Ghost

SWISH~WISH~WISH! sounded the big feet of
the monster on the water. Its shrill breathing
sounded like a whistle. The bell-men flew up and cir-
cled about in the air, ringing the saddest music. They
would have flown away, but Ozma had made a sign
for them to stay.
	 Nobody was really frightened while their good
queen stood by. But all were filled with an uneasy
wonder. That is, all. but Scraps, who could never be
anything but gay. On seeing the great shadow that
was crossing the water, she turned a somersault and
said,
	"I'm not afraid of anything which is
	In trousers, pants, galligaskins, or breeches!
	I'm protected all over with finest cat-stitches,
	Sewed in by one of our very best witches!"
Aunt Em said, "I wish that flickering shadow would
go away!"
	Captain Salt, with cutlass drawn, and Sir Hokus
the Knight, took their stand on either side of Ozma.
	"Allons!" cried Sir Hokus. "We'll teach thee, knave,
not to harry defenseless women!"
	"Shiver my timbers!" bellowed Captain Salt. "Let's
see the color of your courage, villain!"
	The Shape came closer. It was as tall as Ozma's
highest tower, and it swayed from side to side. It
was almost upon them, when Ozma raised her hand
with the emerald ring. The spectre gave a weird wail,
turned, and ran. It leaped the water in three bounds,
its flat feet churning the spray, and lumbered clum-
sily toward the horizon. Then it was gone.
	"Well," said Aunt Em, drawing a deep breath. "I
hope that is all we shall see of it!"
	Overhead, the bells burst into a peal of glad sound.
They rang out so loud and clear that everyone caught
the carnival spirit. Joining hands, they began to
dance. The merriment was soon-in full swing. They
frolicked all afternoon, and the strange rubber ghost
was forgotten. The animals came from the shelter
of the scalawagons and joined in the games.
	Evening came on and the vesper bell chimed
sweetly. Number Nine was floating on the water.
He enjoyed it too much to join in the games. He lay
on his back staring up at the sky. Suddenly he
called out,
	"I have a sinking feeling! Isn't that dark GHOST
coming back again?"
	Scraps looked up and quickly chanted,
	"Bless my stitches and button eyes!
	I think we're having another surprise!"
	Now all the people were looking upward. Hovering
above them was the huge Shape.
	"Everyone get back to your scalawagons!" ordered
Ozma. Then in a low voice to Glinda and the Wiz~
ard, she said, "It would be different if we had brought
enough magical instruments to capture the creature."
	"Yes, it's quite a nuisance," said the Wizard. "We'll
have to lure it to the Emerald City. There we can
deal with it properly."
	The people and the animals were running toward
the scalawagons. There was no time to change from
bathing suits. Having found refuge in their scala-
wagons, all watched to see what would happen.
	The Cowardly Lion was crouching under his scala-
wagon, too frightened even to roar. Nothing would
make him come out until the apparition was gone.
Sir Hokus and Captain Salt began to wave their
swords at the Shape, but it wasn't in the least
alarmed.
	The Hungry Tiger had spent most of the after-
noon in his scalawagon, ordering dishes of meat pie.
He now looked up and said,
	"If only I were hungry enough to tackle that! But
for the first time in a long while, I actually feel filled.
Besides, I don't care for rubber desserts."
	"Hadn't you better point your emerald finger at
it once more?" the Wizard said to Ozma.
	"Yes, just as soon as it gets too close," said Ozma.
"If I could touch it, the effect would be sharper. Wait!"
Jenny heard Ozma ask them to wait, but she was
too impatient to wait. The creature was coming down.
In a few minutes it would be on top of their heads!
Jenny didn't care to have those big flat feet pressing
on her head!
	"My handbag!" she thought Her handbag had
never failed her yet. Opening it, she found a small
pair of scissors that she had carried away from her
style shop. "Now!"
As the corner of the monster's foot came within
reach, Jenny took a snip, making a small hole. Im-
mediately the foot began to wrinkle, and an unpleas-
ant odor rushed out of the hole.
	"Whew!" The Wizard held his nose. "Where have
I smelled that smell before?"
	The odor continued to ooze out of the great ghost.

It became flabbier and flabbier. Suddenly it began
to howl,
	"Finished! Exposed !"
	"What are you?" called Ozma in her loudest voice.
"Don't you recognize me?" cried out the rubber
ghost. "Then there's still a reason for living!"
	Jenny jumped out of her scalawagon and reached
her scissors toward the ghost's rubber ear. Snip! The
bad odor rushed out faster than ever.
	"No, no," cried the desperate ghost. "No one must
see my true shape!" And with that it leaped into
Jenny's scalawagon and made off!
	For a second Jenny stood looking after her dis-
appearing scalawagon, too surprised to move. Then
she whirled around to Ozma.
	"Your Highness, I can't let that creature get away
with it! May I go after it?"
	Ozma nodded. "I have absolute confidence in you,
Jenny," she said.
	Jenny quickly got her fairy shoe, gloves, and eye-
glass out of her bag. "I'd better be prepared for
anything," she muttered, as she put on all of these.
	"The rest of us will soon return to the Emerald
City," Ozma said to Jenny. "There I'll watch you in
my magic picture. If anything goes wrong, I'll help
you."
	"Thank you, your Highness. That rubber creature
may get mean!"
	Jenny stamped her fairy foot hard against the
ground. "Goodbye!" she called, as she went sailing
through the air.
	She hardly heard the crowd below call back. The
jump had taken her far out, and now she could see
miles of red Quadling country.
	Next minute there was water in her eye. She ducked
under a cloud.
	"That's strange," she thought. "It was such a
fleecy cloud, I expected to be wool gathering. But,
nobody is going to pull the wool over my eyes!"
	Spreading her arms, she sailed straight on. She
could now see her scalawagon, driven at top speed
by the monster. She made for it, but before she had
gone far, a thunder-head rose in her path. It was the
blackest and most threatening cloud she had ever
seen.
	"You're going the wrong way on a one-way
storm path!" said the thunder-head.
	"I'm in a hurry, and I can't stop for rules," Jenny
replied.
	"That's too bad. A cargo of lightning is coming
this way. I feel sorry for you when you collide with
it!"
	"Oooh-lightning! I don't want to bump into that,"
said Jenny.
	"Then you'd better drop out of sight for awhile."
	Jenny decided to take this advice, and lowering her
arms, she began to drop. Down, down, down, she
went, until with a soft thud she landed. Looking
about, she discovered herself in the midst of a vast
potato field.
	"Dick! Hey, Dick!"
	"What was that?" asked Jenny, jumping around.
	"You're under arrest!" said the voice.
	"Who says so?" she protested.
	"I-Dick Tater," came the reply.
		Then Jenny saw a large potato man, standing
against the earth. She had not seen him right away
because he was the same color as the soil.
	"You - arrest me?" Jenny began to laugh. "I'm
bigger than you. Why I could mash you!"
	She picked up her foot and put it over Dick Tater's
head. The frightened man dropped his brave pose
and shrieked, "Treason!"
	At this an army of potatoes came rushing toward
Jenny. The sight of his soldiers gave Dick Tater more
courage. Pointing his knobby finger at Jenny, he
cried, "Plow her under!"
	"Oh, no, you won't!" said Jenny. "Why, I could
have you boiled, creamed, fried, and chipped. Do you
know that?"
	"To the root cellar with her!" screamed the Dick
Tater, growing dark in the face.
	The army marched up to Jenny, but then stood
still as if it did not know just how to capture her.
Jenny burst out laughing.
	But she soon stopped laughing, as she saw what
was happening. From all sides of the field more
potatoes were digging their way out of the potato
trenches and marching toward her. The small pota-
toes, that could not see well, because they had no
eyes, rolled on their short, curly feet. From heaps
at the side of the field, thousands of potatoes came
running toward her.
	The potato monarch surveyed his forces with pride.
"I am the greatest Potentato of the Vegetable King-
dom !" he boasted.
	The potatoes formed a ring around Jenny, piling
higher and higher, standing on one another's
shoulders. Soon she saw that if she did not act, she
would be enclosed in a high wall of solid potatoes.
	"You mustn't detain me any longer," she said. "I
might lose the rubber ghost who stole my scala-
Wagon."
	"Hey, Spud!" called the Dick Tater, "you're my
Chief Executioner. Peel her, and slice her, and fry
her until brown!"
	"Indeed, you'll do nothing of the kind," said Jenny.
She was no longer amused.
	Spud, a fat potato in a dusty jacket, reached from
the wall of potatoes. He tried to catch hold of Jenny,
but with her fairy mitt she brushed him off.
	"I don't intend to remain here and vegetate," she
said scornfully. "Break your ranks!"
	"You can't take the starch out of us, no matter
what you say," retorted Spud. He reached toward
Jenny and this time fastened his curly fingers in her
clothes so tightly that she could not brush him off.
	"Nab her!" ordered Spud. Immediately a hundred
grubby hands seized Jenny.
	"Will you resist now?" said Dick Tater.
	"I could never resist potatoes," said ahe.
	"Give yourself up!"
	"Thanks for the advice. But I'll give you up first,"
said Jenny.
	She spoke as bravely as she could. But when she
raised her eyes and saw how high the potatoes had
piled over her, her heart sank. She was standing in
the centre of thousands of potatoes.
	"I must rise to the occasion, without further de-
lay," she thought.  "Now-before it's too late."
	Could she do it? She scanned the sky anxiously.
It looked so far away! There was one hope. She
pushed her fairy foot hard against the ground.
	"Hurrah! I'm going up!"
	In another minute she was high in the air. A hun-
dred potatoes, including Spud, were still clinging to
her.
	"Help! Help!" they cried. Jenny could see terror
in their eyes.
	She advised, "Let go, and I'll drop you like hot
potatoes."
	Her former captors were only too glad to obey. Un-
twisting their hands from her clothes, they fell with
a thud and a Spud.

CHAPTER 19

The Bells of Ozma's Tower

IT'S growing dark," said Ozma. "We'd better be
getting home."
	Over the Singing Brook the red evening was set-
tling. In the distant parts of Oz, evening came in
deep shades of blue, purple, and yellow. In the Emer-
ald City, night came on in green splendor.
	"You're right, your Majesty," said the Wizard.
"Just raise your hand and get your subjects' atten-
tion."
	Ozma raised the hand with the giant emerald. In-
stantly she had the attention of the children, and the
animals, in the water, the creatures on the beach and
in the air. The water fairies swam to the top of the
brook to listen. The kelpies sat in a row on the water-
fall, holding to a rope of spray.
	"Dear subjects," said Ozma in a clear voice. "It's
time to go home. Some of you should be in bed soon.
And I must be ready to watch Jenny's progress in my
magic picture at my palace."
	Though all were reluctant to stop playing, nobody
would think of disobeying the queen. There was a
scurry toward the bath houses. Those who had bath-
ing suits exchanged them for their own clothes. But
the Nota-bells begged the bull frog to be allowed to
keep their checked, striped, plaid, and dotted bathing
suits.
	"They are so much better than the clothes we were
wearing," said the vesper bell.
	"Keep them," said the deep-voiced frog. "Just take
them as souvenirs of a happy day."
	The Nota-bells didn't stop to think that they might
look a bit queer walking about the Emerald City in
bathing suits. They skipped joyously toward the scala-
wagons and climbed in with all those who invited
them.
	The beasts were shaking themselves dry on the
shore. The Scarecrow and the Tin Woodman, Scraps
and Pumpkinhead, and the Sawhorse and Tik-Tok,
who never bathed, were already seated in their scala-
wagons.
	Finally everybody was ready, except Aunt Em, who
had to dry her long hair.
	"Oh, dear, I hate to keep everybody waiting," said
the good woman. "And darkness falling so fast, too."
	"Just a moment," said Ozma. Crooking her finger,
she summoned a pink little dragonette. "Now, Evan-
geline, listen-" She whispered into its ear, and the
lady dragonette walked carefully up to Aunt Em.
Keeping enough distance to prevent sparks from
falling, the dragonette breathed its hot breath on
Aunt Em's hair.
	"Why, it's all dry now," said Aunt Em gratefully.
She wound up her hair and got in beside Uncle Henry.
	The procession was ready, and as Tik-Tok gave the
signal, the scalawagons began to roll away from the
brook.
	A chorus of song followed the travelers. In the
chorus could be heard the high notes of the brook and
the deep notes of the bull frog. When the procession
had gone beyond the reach of this sound, the Nota-
bells struck up a soft tune. They played all the fa-
vorite melodies of Oz, and the people hummed as they
rode.
	As night darkened, a soft glow came from each
scalawagon and shed a radiance over the road. The
Wizard had mixed this light into the oztex of which
the cars were made. And the bright eyes of the scala-
wagons kept a sharp look-out ahead.
	At the parting of the ways, Glinda and her Quad-
lings turned their scalawagons toward the red palace
of the sorceress. Ozma's party continued toward the
Emerald City.
	The Guardian of the Gate had left the gate open,
intending to wait up for Ozma. But he had fallen
asleep. Suddenly he awakened to see a host of gleam-
ing objects advancing through the dark toward him.
Jumping up, he cried,
	"Help! Moonbeams are coming! The heavens are
falling! Help !"
	"I think you are a little moonstruck yourself,"
laughed a friendly voice. It was the Wizard's. The
Guardian recognized that voice and fell back respect-
fully.
	"Oh, it's you, great Wizard. I didn't expect any
magic tricks at this hour!"
	"You shall have a trick of your own," laughed the
Wizard, making a sign to one of the empty scala-
wagons. The car rolled up to the Guardian and
stopped. The eyes blinked in the friendliest way.
	"For me?" cried the astonished Guardian.
	"Certainly. A private car to take you wherever you
go."
	"But I never go anywhere," said the Guardian.
"I belong right here."
	Ozma spoke up, "Take the car. When you feel like
a drive through the country, the Soldier with the
Green Whiskers will relieve you."
	"Thank you!" cried the Guardian. "I've long
wanted to visit my cousin Qompa in the Gillikan coun-
try."
	They left the happy Guardian with his scalawagon
and proceeded through the city. Soon the houses awak-
ened out of their sound sleep. At the unusual sight of
the lighted scalawagons, the houses began to shudder
and shake. They tried to spring away. Being rooted
to the spot, they stood quaking with fear. The people
were tossed from their beds, and babies were jolted
in their cradles. The soups in the iceboxes spilled;
the cream whipped in its bottles. The swallows were
shaken out of the chimneys and went flying about in
bewilderment.
	Windows were thrust open, and the people looked
out to see what had given their houses the jitters.
Seeing the strange stream of light flowing along the
highway, they caught the panic themselves.
	One weak house was shaken to its foundations and
almost collapsed like a pack of cards.
	"This won't do," said Ozma. Raising her hand, she
commanded the houses to stop their shivering. Then
she spoke in her clear tone, explaining the scala-
wagons.
	"Each family will receive one for its private use,"
said Ozma. As she spoke, several scalawagons left
the main parade and rolled toward the houses.
	With the scalawagons making the street as bright
as day, and the people fully awakened, it seemed
that there was a circus in town. The children wanted
to run down and try their scalawagons right away.
But Ozma advised everybody to return to bed.
	
	"This has always been a peaceful, law-abiding city.
It must remain so," she said firmly.
	The people returned to bed. The houses drew their
blinds and soon were dozing. The swallows returned
to their chimney nests.
	At the gates of the Animal Enclosure the animals
turned in.
	"Goodnight, everyone!" they called. "We've had
a very pleasant day off. Thank you, Ozma!"
	"You're quite welcome. Be sure to have Ojo fasten
the gate," Ozma called back.
	Ozma's party reached the palace door. "Dorothy,
please show everyone to a guest room," said Ozma.
"We'll do no more today."
	With Jellia Jamb, her personal maid, Ozma turned
into her sleeping chamber. Its lofty walls shone with
silken hangings, and the great four-poster bed smiled
invitingly. Jellia helped the queen out of her gar-
ments and then brushed her bright hair.
	"Oh, hum," said Ozma with a yawn. "I am so sleepy.
You must be, too. Run along, my dear, and put your-
self to bed."
	Jellia withdrew, and a knock came on the door.
Ozma opened it in surprise that anyone should call
at such an hour.
	Outside the door, filling the hallway, stood Dorothy
with the eighty-eight Nota-bells. They held their bell-
caps under their arms, and their eighty-eight bald
heads glistened.
	"Ozma, I don't know where to put these bell-men,"
said Dorothy.
	"Is there no bedroom big enough for them?" asked
Ozma.
	"It isn't that. They say they are outdoor creatures
and can't spend the night in a house." Dorothy
yawned. "Excuse me, your Highness, but I am so
sleepy!"
	Ozma smiled on her little friend. "If they can't
sleep indoors, perhaps they'd like to try the pasture."
	"I'm afraid that won't do," replied a bell-man. "We
aren't cowbells, you see. Besides, danger lurks on
the ground."
	"We prefer to remain high in the air," said an-
other bell-man.
	"But still we want to be close to your Majesty," said
a third.
	Ozma nibbled her little finger, thinking hard. Then
she looked up with a smile. "I know! You can fly up
to my highest tower and perch there for the night."
	"Fine!" said the first bell-man. "Open the window,
please."
	Ozma went to a window and opened it wide. The
eighty-eight Nota-bells clapped their bells onto their
heads and flew out like a swarm of bees.
	"Goodnight," they called as they flew bye "See you
in the morning."
Ozma slept late next morning. As she was having
her breakfast, the room grew suddenly dark. Look-
ing up, she saw the windows filled with the Nota-
bells. They stood perched on the sills, awaiting her	
permission to enter. They looked quite refreshed.
Their long beards glistened with dewdrops. The little
sky tramps, bright and early, had visited the turn-
style shop and changed their gay colored bathing
suits for pale green musicians' uniforms.
	"Come in," Ozma called. "I'm almost finished with
my breakfast. I suppose you have come to find out
who you are?"
	"Exactly," said the Nota-bells in a chorus. "We're
tired of not knowing."
	Ozma wiped her lips with her napkin and pushed
back from the table. "Come this way, please. We will
look you up."
	She led the troupe of little men into the adjoining
consulting room. Going to a bookcase, the queen
pulled out a great, ancient-looking book, bound in
leather.
	"I shall consult this Book of Magic Tribes," she
said.
	Spreading the book on a table, Ozma bent over its
pages. The Nota-bells waited eagerly while she ran
her finger up one column and down another.
	"Hm," she said, "There are quite a few. I'll read
aloud:
"LOST OR STRAYED BANDS FROM BOBOLAND"
		"CRINKS?      		NO!"
		"CHUCKERTS?		NO!"
		"ELFEONS? 		NO!"
		"JOLLERICKS?.		NO!"
		"SPUNKERS?		NO!"
		"GADIXIES?		NO!"
		"GIFFERS? 		NO!"
    
The little men stood joining in like a chorus each
time Ozma said "NO!"
	"Well, if you aren't any of these, I'll look further,"
said Ozma, and she turned the page.
	"Here you are!" She gave a little start and pointed
her finger at the book. "PUCKERTS!" Then she
read on, "Musical band of whisker-wings. From the
Sugar Pyramids. Homeless band of Fly-a-ways. Not
heard of for seven hundred years! Possibly have be-
come sky-tramps or cloud-rovers."
	"We are jolly tramps all right!" cried several bell-
men, drawing themselves up proudly.
	"Well," said Ozma kindly, "possibly you have roved
a lot."
	"This puts us in our proper place," muttered an-
other member of the band, nodding toward Ozma's
book.
	Several crowded closer to examine the record.
Others began to ring with excitement.
	"We're found! At last we're found!"
	"Why, of course !" said one old bewhiskered fellow.
"I remember the Sugar Pyramid! Home, sweet
home!"
	"Do you want me to send you back there?" asked
Ozma. She had closed the book and replaced it, and
stood dusting her hands.
	"No, no, don't send us to the Sugar Pyramid. It's
swarming with ants and relatives. We get eaten out
of house and home," they cried.
	"We want to stay with you, Ozma."
	"If you stay in the Emerald City," said Ozma,
"you'll have to do some kind of work. Everyone here
is useful."
	"Work?" they echoed dismally. They exchanged
worried looks. "It's many centuries since we've
worked."
	"But you haven't forgotten how," smiled Ozma.
"You are excellent musicians."
	"Oh, if you call that work!" they said.
	"Of course I do. And I know just how we can use
you."
	"How? How?"
	"Did you like your place on my tower last night?"
Ozma asked.
	"Yes, your Majesty."
	"Then I have a high position for all of you."
Ozma laughed and clapped her hands. As if in an-
swer to her hand-clapping, the door opened and the
Wizard came in.
	"You sent for me?" he said.
	"Yes. What do you think of this: the bell-men
(they are Puckerts) are to live up in the tower and
furnish my people with music from chime to chime."
	The Wizard nodded. "Excellent, your Majesty. And
on special occasions, like your birthday."
	Ozma clasped her hands. "I'm glad we've found a
good use for them."
	"We'll do more," declared one of the bell band.
"High up above the city, we can see far and wide. If
danger should approach, we'll ring a warning."
	"Thank you," said Ozma. "Is everything quite corn-
fortable in the chimes-tower?"
	"Quite. If it please your Majesty, we'll be going
now," said they. "It's almost noon, and we've our
work to do."
	The band of whiskers made for the grand stair-
way and slid down the banisters.
	Ozma and the Wizard exchanged looks of satisfac-
tion.
	"A good morning's work, Ozma," said the Wizard.
"As for me, I have done nothing worthwhile as yet."
	Scarcely were the words spoken, when a heavy
knock came on the door. "Whatever that is," said
the Wizard hurriedly, "leave it to me. I've simply
got to accomplish something this morning."
	The door opened and in marched Tik-Tok, with the
Mifkit sitting on his head. The copper man looked
distressed.
	Seeing the queen, he rushed up to her and knelt
on one knee, with his arms spread out in a gesture of
appeal.
	"I-am-not-un-grate-ful," he began to tock swiftly,
"'But-by-my-head I-I-don't-need-this-Mif-kit."
	The Mifkit cheerfully took a handkherchief out of
Tik-Tok's breast pocket and set to polishing his cop-
per head.
	"There~is~a-lim-it-to-the-polish-that-a-man-needs,"
said Tik-Tok.
	Ozma looked at the Wizard, as if she meant to let
him handle this situation.
	"Do you know of anyone else who might need
Mifkit?" asked the Wizard of Tik-Tok.
	Tik-Tok shook his head gloomily.
	"If nobody wants you," said the Wizard to the Mif-
kit, motioning to him to get off Tik-Tok's head, "I
suppose I'd better send you home."
	The Mifkit jumped to the ground and cried, "Please
don't send me back there! I couldn't bear it."
	"I don't blame you," said the Wizard. "The Sandy
Waste is a dreadful place. And now that you've had
a taste of Oz, it will seem all the horrider."
	The Wizard shuddered. "I'll have to think of some-
thing," he said. The Mifkit stood on one foot and then
the other, waiting for the Wizard to finish thinking.
	"I have it!" said the Wizard at last. He held up
his hands and made a few passes in the air. Immedi-
ately Number Nine walked through the door.
	"Yes, sir?" said the blue Munchkin boy.
"Come in, my boy," said the Wizard. "Your father
is a farmer, isn't he?"
	"Yes, he is," said Number Nine.
	"I've heard say that a farmer can always use an
extra hand. Do you think your father would like
this Mifkit for a helper?"
	"Can you milk a cow?" asked Number Nine, turn-
ing to the Mifkit.
	"I could if I had one. Is that the same as winding
and polishing?" asked the Mifkit.
	Number Nine smiled. "No, it's quite different. I'm
afraid you'd be a misfit."
	"Please give me a trial!" begged the Mifkit, so pit-
eously, that Ozma's kind heart was movei
	"We might let him learn," she said. Tik-Tok joined
in, "He-is-will-ing-e-nough."
	"I don't suppose a cow would mind being milked by
a misfit Mifkit. And my father would be glad of the
help," said Number Nine.
	"Then we'll send the Mifkit to your father's," said
the Wizard. He looked at Ozma, and Ozma put her
hand to her belt.
	"Go to Number Nine's father in the Munchkin
country," she spoke out, rubbing her belt.
	Zing! The Mifkit was no longer there.
	"Let's look in my magic picture and see how the
farmer takes it," said Ozma. With a smile, she hur-
ried over to the wall. Drawing some curtains aside,
she revealed a large picture hanging there. It was not
an ordinary picture, but a living moving picture.
	There stood a Munchkin farmer in blue overalls.
He stood inside a cow stable. "That's my dad!" cried
Number Nine. Suddenly a little Mifkit dropped into
a pile of straw near him.
	"I am your new milker," announced the Mifkit.
The farmer took a long, careful look at the Mifkit
He wasted no words.
	"All right! Get the pail and let me see what you
can do."
	"Everything is going to be fine," laughed Ozma,
turning from the picture.
	"I'm-so-re-lieved," said Tik-Tok, and bowing po-
litely, he left the room.
	"Hey-hey-come back to your work!" came a new
voice in the room. Everyone spun around. There, in
the transom above the door, appeared the hall clock.
"Number Nine, I'm tired of your loafing," scolded the
clock. "I ran down, and I'm quite put out. Are you
coming up?"
	"Not until we look into that picture again and learn
where Jenny is," said Number Nine.
	The boy looked pleadingly at the Wizard and Ozma.
"I've been tuning the teletable all morning, but I
can't locate her," he said.
	"Then she's not lost," said Ozma reassuringly.
"Only lost things show up in your teletable. But we
could easily locate her in the magic picture. I was
meaning to do it soon."
	Ozma moved toward the picture again.
"I declare, nobody minds me for a minute," said
the clock in disgust. Climbing down from the door,
it went stamping up to its place.
	The door opened and Dorothy came in, with Jellia,
Betsy, and Trot. The friends had their arms about
each other. Running up to Ozma, they embraced her
and bade her and the Wizard good morning.
	"You're just in time to look into the magic picture
with us," said Ozma, as she kissed the girls in return.
	"We are trying to see Jenny and the rubber ghost."
"Oh, then we're glad we came!" exclaimed the girls.
	They bent forward, looking eagerly into the pic-
ture. "What can be happening to Jenny?"

CHAPTER 20

The Moving Forest

IF only I had not let those potatoes detain me!" said
Jenny to herself.
	Darkness was coming on, and she saw no sign of
her scalawagon and the rubber ghost. It was useless
to remain in the air all night. She looked carefullly
for a sleeping place.
	Soon Jenny saw a forest. "Just the place," she  said
to herself. "The trees will shelter me from the rain
-if it should rain.
Rain did not seem likely, however. The storm clouds
had fallen behind her. The air was very dry, as if it
had not rained for many days.
	As darkness was settling, Jenny descended. Care-
fully avoiding the tree tops, she made a safe land-
ing. Then she walked into the shelter of the forest and
lay down.
	"I'll take off my fairy gifts and give myself a good
rest," she thought.
	Removing her eyeglass, mitt, earmuffs, and left-
footed slipper, Jenny put them carefully into her
handbag. Then she laid the handbag on the grass be-
side her. She was very sleepy and tired.
	"What could have happened to that mysterious
ghost?" thought Jenny. Before she could think of an
answer, she was fast asleep.
	Several hours passed. Then the trees of the forest
began to rustle and whisper:
	"No rain! No rain! Why should we go thirsty any
longer?" whispered one tree.
	"That's right. Why should we?" answered another.
"I'm going to find a drink. Good-bye," crackled a
large, old tree, whose leaves were shriveled.
	The old tree tugged at its roots. Its roots were
thick and gnarled, and slid along the ground When
it had pulled up its roots, it moved on.
	"Wait, wait!" hissed another tree. It was a young
tree, with a restless air.
	The old tree would not wait, but glided silently
away. The young tree hurriedly pulled up its roots
and glided after it. Seeing them, the other trees be-
came restless. Soon all were tugging at their roots,
pulling free, and slipping away. All this motion made
no more noise than a breeze passing through some
leaves. Jenny was not wakened. She only sighed and
slept on.
	"Don't crowd me!" said the old tree. "There's
plenty of time."
	The old tree moved steadily, and the others stayed
close behind, until the entire forest had crossed a
field and came to a river. Into the middle of the
river waded the trees. They plunged their thirsty
roots deep into the water.
	In a few minutes the river was dry. But the trees
felt better. They stood contentedly in the dry river
bed, going to sleep.
	Jenny slept deeply. Her handbag lay unguarded
at her side. Now she was no longer hidden by the
forest, but at the mercy of any prowler who might
come along. Luckily, the beasts had long ago been
driven away by the woodchoppers. But there was
something else prowling over the countryside.
minute it was drawing closer to Jenny.
	A strange body of light was traveling toward
Jenny. It gleamed faintly within the darkness.
and closer it came. At last it stopped near the sleep-
mg girl.
	"That's strange, said a voice within the
"There was a forest here. I meant to hide this pesky
car, so that girl couldn't see it shining and discover
my whereabouts. But now-where's the forest?"
	The rubber ghost, for it was no other, stopped the
gleaming scalawagon. Sitting up, it scratched its
head in perplexity.
	"Another mystery!" grumbled the ghost. "I won't
stand for it!"
	But the ghost did stand. It stood right up in the
scalawagon and searched the darkness with its small
squinting eyes.
	"Nope. Not a tree anywhere. But hoz! What's
this?"
	Stretching its rubber neck, it discovered the sleep=
ing figure of Jenny. Then it saw something else--
Jenny's handbag. The monster began to shake with
rage.
	"That's the thing she carries her scissors in! Those
scissors she snipped me with. No wonder I feel so
weak and flabby, with my insides oozing out."
	Reaching out a rubber hand, the ghost snatched
Jenny's handbag.
	"She's snippy, and I'm snoopy," it said. It held fast
to the handbag. Then it decided to move on.
	Silently the scalawagon rolled away. In the light
of its own oztex fabric, it could see the way on the
dark field. Soon it drew near the forest of sleeping
trees.
	"The mystery is solved !" exclaimed the ghost glee-
fully. "This is the forest I was looking for."
	It steered the scalawagon into hiding among the
trees. It felt safer now, but to be doubly safe, it
climbed out of the scalawagon and up the nearest
tree, carrying Jenny's handbag with it. At the top
of the tree it found an empty crow's nest. Folding
its rubber sides, the ghost squeezed into the nest.
	"Safe at last," it sighed. Nothing betrayed its pres-
ence, except its odor. In another moment the thief
was sleeping as soundly as Jenny.
	All was silent in the woods now. But toward morn-
ing the silence became filled with a new uneasy whis-
pering. It was the old tree, rustling its leaves and
saying,
	"We're not safe in this river bed. Someone will
come to get water, and find us. Then they'll run home
for an ax-I know, I know."
	"He knows, he knows," moaned the young tree,
almost frightened out of its wits. "I don't want to be
chopped down. Let's move!"
	"We'll find a plowed field, where we'll be safe," said
the old tree. And with that it began to draw its roots
softly over the ground, stepping free of the river bed
and moving onward.
	The other trees followed their old leader. Pulling
their roots from the soft ground, they began to glide
after.
	High in the crow's nest the folded rubber ghost
stirred. Feeling the nest swaying, it began to grumble
and groan.
	The trees stopped and listened.
	"Did you hear something?" whispered one tree.
	"Yes-s-s," hissed another.
	The rubber ghost heard them. Sitting up, it gave
a sudden whistle, like an early bird.
	"It's only a bird," sighed the first tree in relief.
"Come on."
	"Right," agreed the other. "We can't remain here
and be chopped into firewood."
	The snooper peeped out and discovered its tree
moving. Looking all around, it failed to see the scala-
wagon.
	"It's a trap!" it stormed. It tried to get out of the
crow's nest. But during the night so much of its dis-
agreeable-smelling insides had escaped that it was al-
most numb. "Help !" said the frightened ghost. "I'm
too deflated to scare anyone now."
	"Come on," called the oldest tree to its mates.
"We'll find a plowed field soon."
	"What's that? What's that?" chattered the ghost.
"Plowed field? Who said I wanted a plowed field?
STOP!"
	But the trees did not stop. For the ghost's small
voice could scarcely be heard.
	When morning came with its soft purple light of
a Gillikan day, Jenny sat up abruptly. She looked
around, and then rubbed her eyes.
	"Am I dreaming? No, I'm quite awake. But what's
become of the forest?"
	She stared around in amazement. She had fallen
asleep in the shelter of a hundred trees. But there was
not a single tree in sight! Only a lot of grass that
looked as if it had been plowed during the night.
	"I'm losing my wits," said Jenny in bewilderment.
"Let me put on my fairy gifts." She looked around
for her handbag and then cried, "Why, my handbag is
gone, too!"
	Frantically, she searched the ground around her.
But there was not a trace of the handbag.
	"What shall I do now?" she cried. "Without my
fairy gifts I can't get far."
	Standing up, Jenny looked into the purple distance.
She saw stretching purple fields and purple lanes.
	"Not a house in sight," she said, feeling her eyes
fill with tears. She blinked back the tears as bravely
as she could. But inside herself she felt frightened.
She was hungry, and there was no breakfast. With-
out food to give her strength, she could not walk far.
	"I mustn't despair," she murmured to herself.
"Something will happen, though I don't know what!"
	The next instant Jenny saw something coming over
the horizon. Her heart beat hard. Was it friends
coming to her rescue, or some new kind of danger?
	Jenny stood her ground bravely. She kept her eyes
fixed on the distant object, until she was able to see
what it was. Then she gave a cry of surprise.
	"It's a scalawagon!"
	Could it be her own scalawagon with the thieving
ghost inside? Jenny's heart was beating madly. If
the monster had the ghost of an idea of drawing near,
she had nothing with which to capture him.
	Jenny put her hand up to shade her eyes, staring
hard at the approaching scalawagon. Then another
scalawagon appeared behind it - and a third and a
fourth! Who could all those people be? What if they
passed right by without seeing her? Throwing up her
arms, she began to wave. The others waved back.
	"They see me!" Jenny cried joyfully.
	The strange scalawagons were coming closer.
Jenny could make out four figures. They were girls.
	"Dorothy, Jellia, Trot, and Betsy!" cried Jenny, as
the scalawagons slid to a stop.
	The four girls were smiling delightfully. Jenny
was so happy to see them that she burst into tears.
	"A few minutes ago I felt all alone and helpless,"
she explained, smiling through her tears.
	"You needn't have worried," said Dorothy. "Ozma
was watching over you."
	Betsy went on, "We saw you in Ozma's magic pic-
ture. When you awoke and found your handbag gone,
Ozma wanted to fetch you back to the Emerald City."
"But we begged to be allowed to come here," con-
tinued Betsy. "My, I haven't had such an adventure
since I was shipwrecked with Hank the Mule!"
	"Nor I, since I fell into the whirlpool with Captain
Bill," said Trot. "That was before I came to Oz."
By this time, Jenny was feeling much better. She
still wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. But
most of all she wanted her breakfast.
	It was Jellia who said, "Cake's sake, Jenny. Get
into my scalawagon. The LUNCH bar is serving
breakfast at this hour."
	Jenny climbed into Jellia's scalawagon. When she
pressed the LUNCH button, five delicious breakfasts
appeared. There was enough for everyone, and Jenny
handed out glasses of purple milk and bananas to her
friends.
	While they were eating, Dorothy said, "Ozma and
the Wizard are still puzzled about that rubber ghost.
They can't discover what it is because it is traveling
in disguise."
	"We have Ozma's permission to help you find the
ghost, and then to deal with it properly," said Trot.
She held up a pair of scissors. "The Wizard gave us
each a pair. We can cut-up as much as we like."
	"That ghost won't have a chance," declared Betsy.
Jenny soon finished her breakfast. Food and friends
had raised her spirits sky-high.
	"I know we can catch that rubbery fellow!" she
declared.
	"Certainly! Come on, girls," cried Dorothy gaily.
They started their scalawagons.
	"Where to?" asked Dorothy.
	"I don't know," said Jenny.
	"Aren't those tracks of some kind?" said Jellia, star-
mg at the ground, where there were ruts left by the
trees' roots.
	"Strange tracks, I call them. They cross and dou-
ble-cross," said Betsy.
	"But all tracks go somewhere," said Trot. "Let's
follow and see where these take us."
	At first the tracks only confused the girls. They
steered their scalawagons into the twisting ruts, but
found themselves traveling in circles.
	"I've never been in such a rut," said Jenny, as they
returned to their starting place for the tenth time.
	"I think we should stop steering and let our scala-
wagons lead us," said Dorothy.
	Leaning forward, Dorothy patted her scalawagon
between its eyes.
	"Help us find the rubber ghost," she coaxed. The
eyes of the scalawagon blinked twice, and a wise look
came into them. Then, without a sound, the little
car was off, its wheels turning in the tracks left by
the old tree.
	"Follow it!" called Jenny.
	The scalawagons enjoyed running without being
steered. Their wide-open eyes were shining. In a
little while they proved their good sense by arriving
at the river that the forest had drunk dry. There was
no more water there, and there was no forest. But
there was something that made Jenny cry out:
	"Why, there's my scalawagon!"
	The scalawagon was standing just where the rub-
ber ghost had abandoned it. Its eyelids had been
drooping, but seeing its companions, it began to rear
and jump.

	"Thanks for the lift, Jelila," cried Jenny, getting
out of Jellia's scalawagon and running to her own.
Climbing into the seat, she rubbed the control but-
tons.
	"That nasty ghost didn't damage you," she said
fondly. "Now, if only I could find my handbag!"
	"You'll find that when you find that thieving
ghost," said Betsy. "After him, girls!"
	"Which way?" inquired Trot.
	Nobody knew how to answer this question. Then
Jenny said, "Suppose we let my scalawagon lead? It
must remember which way the ghost went."
	The others agreed.
	"Now, Scally," said Jenny to her scalawagon,
"which way did that rubber monster go?"
	The good sense that Tik-Tok had knocked into its
head now served the scalawagon well. For without
hesitation, it started off in the direction taken by the
moving forest.

CHAPTER 21

The Ghost Rides High

ALL night long the trees had moved, dragging
their roots and sighing softly. They did not find
a plowed field until daybreak. It was just the kind of
field they wanted, but when they tried to settle there,
a farmer appeared and shouted to them to move on.
Moving forests are common in Gillikan land.
	"I no sooner clear my land of trees, when another
horde comes," shouted the farmer. He shook his fist
at the forest "Get along, you drifters!"
	The trees had no course but to go on. As daylight
grew a brighter purple, another danger appeareid.
The woodchoppers came with their axes.
The old tree leader hissed, "Keep a sharp lookout
on all sides."
"There's one now!" warned a tree in the rear. The
trees hurried as if a strong wind were blowing them.
The woodchopper stopped and shook his head.
There was no use trying to chop down a tree that
wouldn't stand still.
	Meanwhile the rubber ghost crouched within the
crow's nest. It was getting highly impatient. Never
before had it been imprisoned for a whole night.
"It's that toe," grumbled the ghost, looking at the
toe that Jenny's scissors had snipped. "That's where
it comes rushing out - that sweet-smelling stuff that
made me a giant."
	The ghost was far from being a giant now. So
much of the peculiar-smelling stuff had escaped that
it was quite shriveled. As it shrank, it assumed a
strange, flat appearance.
	"It's true that I've shrunk, but maybe I can stretch
again Then I can frighten this forest," the ghost
thought wickedly.
Making a mighty effort, for it was nearly ex-
hausted now, the rubber monster stood upright in
the nest. Then it began to breathe-and breathe-
and breathe. It breathed in, but never out. In a little
while it had breathed so much air that it was swollen
up again. It was a terrible effort to keep the air in,
but the ghost was terribly determined. With seven
more breaths it had swelled to a ferocious size.
	"Now I'll scare those stupid trees into obeying me,"
it thought.
	Leaning far over the crow's nest, it allowed the air
to escape in a mighty blast, while it gave out a roar
like thunder.
	The forest stopped. The young trees began to
tremble.
	"Thunder!"
	"Lightning!"
	"We'll be struck!" they cried.
	The upper limbs of the trees swayed so hard that
the ghost was almost tumbled out of the crow's nest.
The ghost was again breathing in as hard as it
could. When it was bloated to the size of a great
bladder, it made another sound like thunder.
	The trees were too frightened to move. This was
what the cunning ghost had hoped for.
	"OBEY ME!" it thundered."
	Yes, yes," sighed the trees.
	"March straight on to the next crossroad," ordered
the ghost. "There you will see a cross-eyed house.
Turn right and keep going until the purple highway
runs into a green one. Follow the green one to the
Emerald City. Then I'll give you further orders!"
	All this was delivered in a menacing tone. The trees
trembled and obeyed. Though they passed plowed fields
that looked inviting, they dared not stop. Sometimes
a farmer came out of a purple house and waited to
make sure that the forest did not settle on his land.
Herds of purple cattle turned their mild eyes to watch
the forest move past. The crossroad was several miles
distant, and the sun was getting strong. The trees
began to get thirsty once more.
	"Water, water," they began whispering.
	"You'll get plenty of water at the Emerald City,"
promised the ghost. It continued to talk in its most
terrifying voice. The trees heard and trembled.
In the ghost's mind a more wicked scheme was
forming. It kept mumbling to itself, holding on to
its big toe to keep its insides from escaping.
	"Why shouldn't I make these stupid trees serve
me?" it was mumbling. "I'll use them to get my re-
venge on those people who cut me with scissors. I'LL
CAPTURE THE WHOLE CITY!"
The more it thought about this, the better the idea
seemed.
	"Sure, I'll capture the whole kit and kaboodle, and
make myself king!" The ghost wriggled with delight
at this thought, smirking in a most self-satisfied way.
	"And when I'm king," it went on to itself, "I'll
make a law that no scissors may be used by anyone
but me!"
	The trees spread out over the entire road, making
it impossible for anyone to pass in either direction.
They were a purple, towering mass that moved
down the road like a landslide. Though the peaceful
trees did not know it, they looked frightening to chil-
dren and strangers.
	Suddenly one young tree at the rear plunged leafily
into the tree ahead.
	"Something is coming!" it hissed.
	"Woodchoppers?" cried the second tree.
	"Worse than woodchoppers! Something on wheels !"
The rumor spread swiftly among the trees. Looking
back, they discovered the five pursuing scalawagons.
"Run for your lives !" called the old tree.
The trees began to sway and hobble in a panic.
High in its crow's nest, the ghost was thrashed about
like a ship in a storm.
	"Hey, hey, what's going on down there?" it wheezed.
Then it remembered that it must keep its voice ter-
rible, and filling itself with air, it let out in a loud bel-
low:
	"KEEP MOVING ONWARD!"
	The trees now lost their heads completely. Fright-
ened by the speeding scalawagons behind, and by the
terrible voice above, they rushed on, pell-mell. At the
crossroads they came to the cross-eyed house. Its
eyes were crossed from watching both roads at the
same time.
	"what's the hurry?" complained a small purple
bird sitting on a post. The post was marked "peanut
Pike." An arrow pointed to the north, and under the
arrow were the words: "To Bottle Hill. Take the
Lumbering Gate."
	The old tree leader took in this sign at a glance,
and forgetting the ghost's directions, turned off to-
ward Bottle Hill.
	"NO, NO, NOT THAT WAY!" roared the ghost
	The old tree pulled itself up so hard that several
limbs snapped off. Then, in bewilderment it went
limping toward the Emerald City with the whole for-
est stampeding after it
	"I'm the master, and they're my slaves!" grunted
the ghost. "Soon all the stupid people in the Emerald
City will be my slaves, too!"
	Far behind the fleeing forest the five scalawagons
were racing. The girls had long since caught sight
of the purple mass of moving trees. It was Jenny who
cried,
	"Maybe that rubber ghost is hiding among those
trees!"
	"It certainly looks suspicious, the way they're run-
ing away from us," said Dorothy.
	"Don't get too close," said Betsy. "They may turn
and stampede us!"
"We must wait till they stop," added Trot "And
hope that won't be too soon. This is real FUN!"
The five girls agreed that they were having the
time of their lives. For hours their scalawagons had
been racing up hill and down dale, over fences and
bushes and turnstiles.
	At one turnstile, Jenny had said, "When this ad-
venture is over, I'll be glad to return to my own turn-
style shop. I'm beginning to miss it."
	"It must be missing you, too, Jenny," said Dorothy.
	"Nobody can manage it as well as you. You run it
like the duchess that you are."
	Jenny gave Dorothy a pleased smile. "Thank you,
Dorothy. Spoken like the princess that you are! But
Number Nine's Sister Six is an able helper. She's
managing the shop during my absence."
	There was not much chance to talk, for the uneven
ground separated the racing cars. Purple rabbits,
cats, and groundhogs scurried into their holes for
safety. Jenny and Dorothy forgot their dignity as a
duchess and a princess and squealed in delight like
Betsy, Trot, and Jellia.
	"Cake's sakes! Wouldn't Ozma like to be here!"
cried Jellia.
	"I certainly would!" exclaimed the Queen, standing
before her magic picture in the Emerald City.
	Ozma and the Wizard had been sitting before
picture since early morning. As Ozma watched the
chase, she often got so excited that she burst out with
a spoken remark. Now she jumped to her feet and
cried, "Shall I help you find that mean little ghost?'
The Wizard put a restraining hand on the queen's
shoulder. "Sit down, please, and calm yourself."
	Ozma sat down with a bashful smile. "I was for-
getting," she said, "that I told the girls they could do
it all by themselves. The picture is so real, I seem to
be with them."
	"I know the temptation, your Majesty," said the
Wizard kindly. "It's so easy for you to remove that
ghost with a little simple magic. But the girls would
feel cheated."
	"What do you suppose that ghost really is?" said
Ozma. "I can't find it in my library records."
	"We'll get its secret just as soon as it's captured,"
said the Wizard. "Meanwhile, I am enjoying this mov-
ing picture. Aren't you?"
	"As long as no one is in real danger," said Ozma.
	"Look, the forest is coming into the frame. It's
getting closer!" said the Wizard.
	Ozma bent forward, studying the picture intently.
	"It won't do," she murmured. "We can't have a
purple forest in our green city. The color doesn't fit."
	"They ought to know better," said the Wizard.
	"They wouldn't be coming here if they didn't mean
some foul play."
	"It can't be the trees that are foul," said Ozma,
shaking her head. "It's that rubber ghost hidden in
that nest. It's up to no good!"
	"What do you propose to do about it?" asked the
Wizard.
	Ozma's reply was drowned in the sudden loud
clanging of warning bells.
	"Listen!" cried the Wizard. "Our bell-men are
warning us that danger is heading this way!"

CHAPTER 22

The Forest Surrenders

THE clanging of the warning bells was heard out-
side the city gate. The moving forest heard it,
and stopping, began to whimper with terror.
	"STOP BLUBBERING! GET FIERCE!" bellowed
the ghost.
	"Fierce? How could we be fierce? We're gentle by
nature," said the old tree.
	"Then change your nature," commanded the piti-
less ghost. It felt more desperate than ever, now that
its goal was in sight. The towers of the Emerald City
sparkled in the sunlight. The sight made the ghost
green with envy. If it could become king of all that!
The trees stopped, looked back. But that way was
cut off by the five dashing scalawagons.
	"Trapped !" sighed the oldest tree.
	"Trapped!" the ghost gnashed its rubber gums to-
gether. "If I come down now, they'll get me. There's
no way but to go on."
	The ghost was too cowardly to come down and lead
the trees. It remained safely within its nest and
called down commands.
	"Capture the Guardian of the Gate! Capture the
Soldier with the Green Whiskers!"
	The trees trembled, but they crept forward to obey.
	As soon as the warning bells had begun ringing, the
Guardian had fastened the gate. But the trees
marched up to the wall and looked over. From out
of the topmost branches came the loud voice of the
ghost:
		"OPEN THE GATE!"
	The old Guardian shouted back, "I'll do nothing of
the kind. Go back where you belong!"
The Soldier with the Green whiskers raised a pop-
gun and began to fire popcorn as fast as he could.
	"Retreat or surrender!" cried the Soldier. His long
green whiskers stood out in three separate parts. His
old coat-tails flapped behind him.
	"GET THEM!" ordered the Voice.
	The trees just stood and shook. The popcorn rolled
off them. Their leaves began to shed. They shook so
hard that the ghost's next command rattled:
	"FETCH THOSE TWO OLD NODDYHAMMERS!"
	"Those are fightin' words!" sputtered the Soldier
with the Green Whiskers. He said no more, for just
then the old tree reached its two longest branches
over the wall and wrapped them around the Soldier.
Lifting him high, the tree placed the Soldier outside
the wall. Then it reached down and picked up the
Guardian.
	"TURN THE OZZARD UPSIDE DOWN AND
SHAKE HIM!" ordered the ghost.
	The old tree did as it was bidden. When the Guar-
dian was upside down, the keys fell out of his pocket.
Another tree quickly covered the keys with its
roots.
	"My keys!" begged the Guardian. "Give me my
keys!"
	"You may have your keys if you promise to open
the gate," answered the ghost.
	"I'll open the gate if you promise not to enter until
I've told Ozma of your arrival," said the Guardian.
The ghost burst into a disagreeable laugh. "Hoz!
Do you think we've come as guests? Not at all. We've
come to capture the city!"
	Hearing this, the Soldier with the Green Whiskers
came closer.
	"You can't do that!" he shouted. "It's against the
law!"
	"What's that to a desperate outlaw like me?"
boasted the ghost. "Open the gate at once!"
	"Come down and open it yourself," said the Guar-
dian.
	This the ghost would not do. For it knew that when
the trees saw that they had been ordered by a
shrunken bit of rubber, they might harm it.
	So the ghost stayed within its nest and bellowed
down, "You, there, you clumsy old tree! Open that
gate."
	The trees trembled with anger at hearing their
leader insulted. As for the old tree, it answered sadly,
	"I'd like to obey you, but I can't. My roots weren't
made to work with keys."
	"Then we'll smash in the gate!" shouted the Ghost.
"Ready, ADVANCE!"
	The trees drew themselves up and made ready to
push in the gate. But just as they took the first step,
the gate opened from within. It swung wide, exposing
a threatening figure. Seeing it, the trees stood stlll
and wrung their branches, weeping for mercy.
	The bells, clanging in the bell tower, had aroused
the city. Crowds were gathered near the city gate,
waiting for their queen to perform a miracle. And of
course Ozma did not fail them.
	Turning to the Wizard, Ozma said, "It's time I did
something."
	"Yes, Your Highness," said the Wizard. "Go
ahead."
	Ozma put her hand on her magic belt, saying,
"Nick, appear before the city gate."
	Nick, the Tin Woodman, was at that moment in
his Winkie palace, where he was Emperor. He had
invited the Scarecrow to drop his duties as Ruler of
the Munchkins and spend the week-end with him. The
two friends were getting ready to enjoy a game of
squash. They played this with ripe bananas and brick-
bats. Just as the Scarecrow was batting a banana, he
looked up to find the Woodman gone.
	"He was probably called on business," thought the
Scarecrow.
	The Tin Woodman, finding himself flying through
the air, thoughtfully reached for his ax on his way
out of the palace yard.
	"This may be an emergency," he thought, firmly
shouldering his ax.
	In a few seconds he felt himself let down inside the
gate of the Emerald City. He stood facing the gate
in surprise, not understanding what was happening.
The gate swung open of its own accord, and there be-
fore Nick stood a gigantic purple forest.
	"RUSH IN!" commanded a voice up in a tree.
	"Indeed?" answered the quick-witted Nick. "No-
body rushes in here without permission from the Guar-
dian."
	Saying that, the Tin Woodman began to lay about
him with his ax. He felled the first tree in a couple
of blows. It came crashing down to the ground.
	"I'M MURDERED!" cried a voice within the fallen
tangle of leaves.
	A crow's nest lay upside down under the leaves,
and a shapeless figure was thrashing to get free. Its
disagreeable odor was rushing out.
	The other trees drew back in fright. At this mo-
ment the five scalawagons dashed up.
	Jenny's scalawagon recognized the Thing thrash-
ing under the fallen tree. So did Jenny, by its smell.
	"Stop, scalawagon!" she cried, in a quiet voice.
"Well done!"
	The four other scalawagons dashed up. "What shall
we do now?" asked the girls.
	"Keep that Thing surrounded! Don't let it get
away!" shouted Jenny. Leaping from her car, she
jumped on the crow's nest.
	"Don't expose me!" came a feeble voice within the
nest. "Here's your silly old bundle."
	A skinny rubber arm pushed something toward
Jenny.
	"My precious handbag!" cried Jenny, seizing it.
Opening it, she took a quick look within and made
sure that her fairy gifts were safe.
	The crowd on the sidelines cheered and called ad-
vice.
	"Don't let it go!"
"Take it to the queen!"
	The rubber ghost was so deflated that it could only
wheeze: "Treed-freed---speed!"
	"What's the need?" chuckled Jenny. "You're as
popular as a weed. I'm taking you to the queen."
	Nick, the Woodman, was leaning on his ax and
gazing at the trembling forest.
	"You don't need to be jittery," he said     "Im
not going to chop any more of you-unless you're
carrying concealed ghosts."
	"We're not!" said one tree. "We surrender! All
we want is a drink of water."
	"Water!" begged the other trees, so piteously, that
Nick's kind heart was moved.
	"Why didn't you say so?" he replied. "Wait--"
Turning, Nick spied Kabumpo the Elephant in the
crowd. Kabumpo had come from the Animal Enclo-
sure to learn the cause of the excitement.
	"Kabumpo, would you be good enough to lead the
trees to some water?" said Nick.
	"Sure, Nick," said Kabumpo with a grin and a toss
of his trunk. "I'll be proud to show them the gorgeous
Elephant Fountain."
	Turning around, Kabumpo showed the way into
the city. The trees swept after him. The people ran
after the trees. when the crowd had vanished, the
Guardian and the Soldier ran in.
	"I'll go along and keep the peace!" said the Soldier,
and he hurried off.
	"I'll stay and see that no more invaders trouble us,"
said the Guardian, locking the gate with the keys that
he had picked up from the ground.
	"I ought to be returning to my guest," said Nick.
"Where did you leave him?" asked Dorothy. She re-
ceived no answer. Turning, she saw that Nick had van-
ished. Ozma had returned him to the Winkie Palace.
Jenny had picked up the wriggling Ghost and was
holding it wrapped within the nest.
	Jellia said, "I'd like to take a good look at the
pest!"
	"You shall," promised Jenny. "Follow me, girls."
The girls started their scalawagons and prepared
to follow Jenny, when a groan came from behind them.
They stopped and look back.
	"What was that?" asked Betsy.
	There was nothing to be seen, except the broken
tree lying inside the gate.
	Again the moan came. Trot said in startled voice,
"why, it's the tree. Poor thing, are you hurt?"
	"No," sighed the tree. "It's not the loss of a limb
or two. It's being deserted by my friends that hurts."
	And the tree gave such a deep sigh that all its
leaves rustled.
	"We'll help you up. Then follow us," advised Jenny.
	"Thank you," said the tree, struggling to its roots.
"I couldn't get up before, because you were in my
hair."
	"Sorry, but I had to get the ghost," said Jenny.
"I'm glad you did," said the tree. "I've lost that
haunted feeling."
	The five scalawagons started, and the tree fol-
lowed. At the corner, Jenny pointed down Pudding
Place and told the tree how to reach the Elephant
Fountain. It turned off, and the girls proceeded to
Jenny's Style Shop.

CHAPTER 23

Stamping Out Trouble

	INSIDE the shop, Sister Six gave Jenny a joyful
greeting. The little Munchkin girl was curious to
hear about her boss' adventures. And the customers
didn't mind waiting to be waited on, while they lis-
tened, too.
		Jenny's shop was one of the most popular places
in the Emerald City. By a simple twist of the turn-
style, while you went through, you came out dressed
in the fashion dearest to your heart.
		The turn-style was a magic one, that Jenny had
once found among the ruins of a magician's house.
It was a shiny contraption with four arms and rows
of buttons marked COLOR, STYLE, SIZE, etc. When
the proper buttons were pressed, the results were al-
ways satisfying.
	Jenny let Dorothy, Jellia, Betsy, and Trot do the
talking, for she was busily engaged with the creature
in the crow's nest.
	"Now, let's see your true form," said Jenny, put-
ting the little villain into the turn-style and pressing
several buttons.
	"No, no, no!" squealed the rubber victim. "Don't
expose me!"
	"This is for your own good," said Jenny. "Your
character has been too elastic. From now on, you'll
amount to something!"
	"I don't want to amount to anything," wailed the
ghost. "I wanna be a mystery!"
	The ghost limped on its snipped toe as it went
through the turn-style. When it came out, the crow's
nest was gone, and a flat, pancake-shaped object
rolled on its side toward Jenny.
	"Why, bless us!" laughed Jenny. "Haven't I seen
you somewhere before?"
	The flat creature was very much reduced in size
and was wearing bells on its ears. A smell like dry
mustard came from it.
	Jenny peered closely at it Then she burst out
laughing.
	"why you're no ghost at all! You're nothing but
the little flabbergasted Bell-snickle!"
	The flat-eyed creature stamped its feet and glared
at Jenny, but it would not answer.
	"If you're going to keep a dogged silence, there's
only one thing to do."
	Once more she forced the creature through the
turn-style. It came out on a leash.
	Jenny picked up the end of the leash. "Now, you
flat-headed little BELL-SNICKLE, come on!"
	"Exposed! Revealed! No more a mystery!" wailed
the Bell-snickle, wringing its curly hands.
	"Ozma shall decide what to do with you," said
Jenny.
	"It doesn't matter what becomes of me," said the
Bell-snickle. "My toe has been my undoing. There's
no reason for rubbing along."
	"Ozma will give you a reason," said Dorothy sym-
pathetically. "Don't take it too hard."
	"I've always had it soft as rubber," said the Bell-
snickle.
	"You can't go on like that in Oz," spoke up Jellia
in rather a severe tone. "Here, everyone is expected
to be something useful."
	"That's right," added Betsy, "you must make your
mark."
	"Make my mark? Be useful?" wailed the Snickle.
"Oh, I knew I shouldn't have let myself get caught."
	Dorothy, Betsy, Trot, and Jellia decided to remain
in the shop and try the latest styles. Jenny went out
and took the Snickle into her scalawagon.
	"Mind, now, no foolishness," she warned it.
	The Snickle's disagreeable odor filled the air.
"We've got to do something about that," thought
Jenny.
	She steered directly toward the Elephant Fountain.
There the crowd was so great that Jenny had a hard
time driving through. The trees were dipping their
roots into the fountain. Many stray people and ani-
mals loitered about Jenny drove to one of the spouts.
Pulling the Snickle out of the scalawagon, she got
him under the water and gave him a good dousing.
The Snickle set up a roar. Then he whistled. Then he
grunted like a pig. But the washing did not stop
until every whiff of the flabbergas was gone.
	"Now you're almost respectable enough to go to
Ozma's palace," said Jenny. She dragged the Snickle
back to her scalawagon.
	Just then the voice of Scraps came through the
crowd:
	"Public traffic jammed up hard
	All along the boo-lee-vard!
	Are you friend or enemee?
	May I ask in poetree?"
Scraps catapulted in front of Jenny's scalawagon.
Seeing the Bell-snickle, the patchwork girl stood on
her head and chanted:
	"Tickle the Snickle
	He's full of woe,
	With a sick kick
	In a sore toe!"
The crowd was delightei They pressed around the
scalawagon. The Snickle stood on its flat edge and
squinted, making ferocious noises and shaking its
bells. Instead of being frightened, the people were
amused. They shouted to the Snick to do more.
	When Jenny was able to steer her scalawagon out
of the crowd, she drove directly to Ozma's palace.
Arriving there, she dismounted, jerked the Bell-
snickle to its feet, and ran up the palace stairs.
	Ozma was standing on the balcony, overlooking the
city. She turned to Jenny with a broad smile.
	"Hello, Duchess. So you brought the little mischief-
maker. what do you want me to do with it?"
	"Why, I don't know," said Jenny. "I thought it my
duty to bring it straight to you. For you're the Queen,
and its fate is in your hands."
	Ozma laughed cheerily. "It's not easy to deal with
an unpleasant subject" She gave the Snickle a long
look and then said, "Suppose I left it in your hands,
Jenny. what would you do?"
	"Why-why, I'd have to think about that, your
Highness," stuttered Jenny.
	"Well, go ahead and think," said Ozma, whose eyes
were twinkling. "You've handled the situation so well
this far, I'm sure you can find the solution."
	Jenny sat down and put her chin in her hands. She
began to think very hard. The Snickle crouched at
her feet, quite well-mannered now, for it realized that
it was in the presence of its queen.
	"I have it!" said Jenny, looking up.
	"Quick work," said Ozma with a nod of approval.
"What do you propose?"
	"If it please your Highness, I could use it in my
shop," said Jenny.
	"Good. Then it's to be useful. But how can you use
it, Jenny dear?"
	"I could put it through the turn-style and make it
smaller. And then it could make its stamp as a crea-
ture of mark."
	"I see," said Ozma.
	The Bell-snickle jerked its head up and said, "I
don't see at all. what're you talking about?"
	"I mean that we could put your rubbering to some
use," laughed Jenny.
	The Bell-snickle howled, "It's still a mystery! I
thought I was the last of the mysteries!"
	"That's pure conceit," said Ozma with a gentle re-
buke. "For there will always be some mysteries in
Oz.	We need them to keep up the people's interest"
Jenny said admiringly, "That's what makes you
such a popular queen, Ozma. You always think of
ways to keep your people interested."
	"Thank you," said Ozrna. "But maybe we ought
to enlighten the Bell-snickle a bit further."
	Jenny looked down at the Snickle. "Did you ever
hear of an important business conducted without a
Rubber Stamp?" she asked.
	"No, never," replied the Snickle promptly.
"From now on, my Style Shop will have you for its
Rubber Stamp."
	The Snickle shuddered. "You mean I have to
WORK?"
	"Your duties will be simple," said Jenny. "You'll
do the same little thing over and over again."
	"How simple?" persisted the Snickle, distrustfully.
	"Why, all you'll have to do is fasten a little stamp
to each costume that comes out of my turnstyle that
will read: JENNY'S EXCLUSIVE MODEL-- Easy,
isn't it?"
	"Oh, I don't know," grumbled the Snickle. "I'd be
giving up my freedom!"
	"You only used your freedom to get into trouble," 
put in Ozma. "Jenny's idea is good. You are going
to like your work. And everyone will respect you for
it."
	"Do you really think so?" said the Snickle, looking
a little interested.
	"Of course," Ozma assured it.
	The Snickle appeared to think it over. Then it shook
its head.
	"No, it won't do."
	"What's the matter now?" said Jenny in exaspera-
tion.
	"Not enough variety. I'm a creature of talent. I've
always led a spicy life. Spice the job, and I'll take it."
	Jenny looked at Ozma as if to say, "What can you
do with someone like that?" Ozma's patient smile an-
swered her.
	"I think you're right," said Ozma to the Bell-
snickle. "Spice is the variety of life, isn't it?"
	"You bet!" said the Snick.
	"No, I never do. I don't consider it queen-like," said
Ozma. "But about this variety-I think I can provide
you with plenty."
	"Kindly explain," said the Snickle haughtily.
	Ozma laughed. "There are a good many things
going on in Oz that I intend to put a stop to," she
said. "For instance, my forest scouts report that
Munchkin seeds have been blown into Quadling coun-
try, and blue grass is growing among the red. I intend
to put a stop to that."
	"You should-at once," said the Snickle. "Blue
grass among the red! It's enough to give one eye-
strain."
	"Yes, it is," said Ozma. "And then, there's an im-
pertinent house in Apple Alley that keeps its shutters
closed all day and open all night. That's got to be
stopped!"
	"You bet!" said the Snickle.
	"No, never," said the queen. "But if you'll accept
the position, I'll appoint you my Royal Rubber
Stopper."
	"Oh, Your Majesty!" exclaimed the Snickle, over-
come by this honor. "A Rubber Stamp and a Rubber
Stopper, all in the same day. I don't know what to
say!"
	"Never mind. Go along with Duchess Jenny now.
Your troubles are stamped out forever!"
	Jenny rose and bid Ozma good-bye. She led the
Snickle away, just as a fresh commotion sounded
within the palace.

CHAPTER 24

Ozma Holds Court
	
	THE commotion came from Ozma's Throne Room.
Ozma knew it was time to hold court. She left
the balcony and hurried to a high room decorated in
crystal and gauze.
	Within the Throne Room stood Ozma's throne,
carved out of a single huge emerald. On either side
of it crouched the Cowardly Lion and the Hungry
Tiger. Aunt Em, who loved to attend Court, sat in
the rear, knitting a pair of socks for Uncle Henry.
The Soldier with the Green Whiskers raised his
trumpet and blew a salute to the Queen. All the
people waiting there bowed low as Ozma ascended
her throne. Jellia, dressed in a fresh style, handed Oz-
ma her crown and sceptre. The Queen pointed the
sceptre at the Soldier with the Green Whiskers.
	"Call the first case," she said.
	"Your Highness, I can't call 'em, for there are too
many of 'em. A whole forest," said the Soldier. "But
I have allowed Kabumpo to represent 'em."
	The Soldier waved his trumpet at Kabumpo the Ele-
phant. Kabumpo came forward. In that mighty Throne
Room, he looked small for his size. Ojo, his keeper,
had dressed him in a robe sewn with gems and had
polished his skin until it shone.
	"Kabumpo, you look lovely," said Ozma, smiling
at the Elephant
	"Thank you, your Majesty. You look like a queen,
yourself," said the Elephant, with a courteous wave
of his trunk.
	"What's this about a forest?" said Ozma. "Is it
the same forest that I saw in my magic picture?"
	"Probably," said Kabumpo. "It's a visiting delega-
tion of trees. But I fear that these will outstay the
time permitted to visitors. They mean to take root
here!"
	"That's impossible," said Ozma, drawing her brows
together seriously. "They're purple, and they'd clash
with the color scheme of our city."
	"That's what I tried to tell them, your Highness,"
interposed the Soldier with the Green Whiskers. "But
they were bound to stay."
	"That's because they haven't any other place to
be," said Kabumpo quickly. "Please show them
mercy, Ozma."
	"Of course," said Ozma, smiling her kindliest smile.
	"But I must be fafr. Now, let me think."
	She put her head on her hand and thought. Every-
one was very quiet.
	"I have it," she said, at last.
	The Cowardly Lion and the Hungry Tiger began
to applaud by thumping their tails on the floor.
	"Thank you," said Ozma.
She put her hand on her magic belt, and giving It
a little rub, said,
	"Foresters of Oz, appear before me."
There was a sound like wind passing through the
chamber. The curtains blew inward, and there, stand-
ing before the throne, was a band of tiny woodsmen.
They were dressed in waterproof breeches and fire-
proof vests. They had long green feathers in their
caps. Their yellow, blue, red, and purple faces showed
them to be from every country of Oz.
	"Woodsmen, welcome," said Ozma.
	"Greetings, your Majesty," spoke one of the band.
	"How goes your work of putting out forest fires
started by the breath of careless dragons?"
	"Well, your Majesty."
	"You have no complaint?"
	"Well . . ." The man hesitated.
	"Go on," urged the Queen. "Don't be afraid to
register any complaint."
	"It's those scalawagons, your Highness. They're
very willing, and fine for groundwork. But they
aren't quite what we need in the upper branches of
our profession. We could see over more territory if
we were elevated at our posts."
	Ozma smiled happily. "That is why I have sum-
moned you. I have a band of roving, do-nothing trees.
	They can lead useful lives and help you to higher
posts. My carpenters will build platforms high in the
trees. You men can do your scouting from there. Each
will be responsible for one tree, lead it to water when-
ever it is thirsty, and hold a monthly reunion."
	"A valuable idea, your Majesty," said the forester,
giving Ozma a look of admiration.
	Again the Cowardly Lion and the Hungry Tiger
applauded by thumping their tails on the floor. The
others in the Throne Room joined in the applause.
When the applause was over, Aunt Em's voice came
from the rear,
	"There's just one thing I can't understand. What-
ever do trees need to hold reunions for?"
	Ozma looked over at Aunt Em. "The trees will
benefit one another. The Spruce will remind them to
keep their appearances neat. The Box Elders will
teach them how to put up a good fight, using the Hem-
lock. The Sass-afras will learn to hold its tongue. There
are ever so many reasons why the trees should get to-
gether like one big family."
	Aunt Em nodded. "I approve of a family tree my-
self. You're right, Ozma."
	Ozma turned back to the little forest men. "You
are free to go now. Join the trees at the Elephant
Fountain. Kabumpo will take you there."
	"Get on my back," invited Kabumpo.
The band of little men jumped onto Kabumpo's
back.
"Comfortable?" asked Ozma.
"Not quite, Your Majesty," they said.
Ozma raised her sceptre and beckoned to some-
thing at the side of the Throne Room. A large ani-
mal got to its feet and came forward. It was the Com-
fortable Camel, contentedly chewing its cud.
	"You want me to assist Kabumpo?" said the Camel.
"If you please." Ozma waited until half the band
of woodsmen had climbed onto the Camel's back.
Then, as the two animals started out, she called, "Good-
bye, and thank you all."
	When the woodsmen were out of sight, Ozma looked
at the Soldier with the Green Whiskers.
	"I'd like to go down to Jenny's Style Shop and try
some new clothes."
	"And I'd like to have a game of marbles with the
Guardian of the Gate," said the Soldier. "But we
must attend to business first, your Highness."
	Ozma sighed. "You are right. Bring on the next
case."
	The Soldier with the Green Whiskers went to the
door and admitted the eighty-eight Nota-bells. The
bell-men lined up before the throne, dressed in their
light green uniforms. They they bowed low.
	"You did a fine job of warning the city that the
forest was moving on us," said Ozma. "I wish to re-
ward you. Is there anything you gentlemen would
like?"
	The Vesper Bell spoke up promptly: "We're tired of
these uniforms. They're not dignified enough for our
new jobs. You might give us a couple of play suits."
	Ozma answered, "I'll take you over to the Style
Shop myself. Jenny is sure to think of something
youthful for you."
	"Hurrah! We'll look like bellboys," shouted the
Nota-bells.
	"But isn't there something else you'd like? You
performed a great service to our city, and you de-
serve more than uniforms," said Ozma.
	Again the Vesper Bell answered promptly: "We
haven't had anything sweet since we left Sugar
Mountain in Boboland. My sweet tooth is getting
quite weak from undernourishment."
	The Vesper Bell-man put his fingers into his mouth
and pulled out a small white tooth. Every other bell-
man put his finger into his mouth and took out his
sweet tooth, holding it up in the air.
	"Oh, you poor things, losing your teeth like that!"
said a voice within the courtroom crowd. There was
a sound of weeping. Everyone turned to see the Town
Crier shedding tears and wringing his hands most
piteously.
	"There's no need to feel so bad," said the Vesper
Bell. "Molasses would soon make our teeth stick."
	"Why, then, you shall have molasses. Barrels of
it!" declared Ozma.
	The little bell-men bowed gratefully, and stepped
back from the throne.
	A disturbance cut off Ozma's next words. The door
of the Throne Room opened violently and a voice de-
manded:
	"I want to see the Queen!"
	"This is not the proper approach," said the Sol-
dier with the Green Whiskers. "Kindly hold your
horses."
	"I didn't bring my horses. But I brought this ob-
streperous Mifkit!"
	It was the Munchkin Farmer, Number Nine's fa-
ther. He came striding toward the center of the
room, followed by the small Mifkit. The Mifkit was
in a greater rage and kept throwing its head at the
farmer. The head hit the farmer and bounced back
to the Mifkit's shoulders.
	"Keep your head!" ordered Ozma, "or you might
lose it."
	At that the Mifkit threw its head at the Queen. But
before it reached her, Ozma raised her hand. The Mif-
kit's head stopped in mid-air.
	"I ain't got no body!" cried the head.
	"Mind your grammar," said Ozma severely.
	The head stuck out its tongue. "Soldier with the
Green Whiskers, hold its tongue," ordered Ozma. The
Soldier stepped close to the head and seized the out-
stretched tongue in both hands.
	"Now, then, Farmer, what's wrong?" asked Ozma.
	"It's wrong!" declared the Munchkin Farmer,
pointing to the headless Mifkit "I ordered it to milk,
and it milked. But it wouldn't STOP! My cows ran
away, and they are still running."
	"Your cows must be stopped," said Ozma sympathet-
ically. "My Royal Rubber Stopper will see to that. Go
home, Farmer, and never worry again. I'll banish this
wicked Mifkit."
	The head of the Mifkit appeared to be trying to
talk. But as the Soldier with the Green Whiskers was
holding its tongue, it could only make horrible faces.
Its cheeks filled out, its eyes popped and looked ready
to fall out of their sockets.
	"Let go its tongue," said Ozma. "We'll hear what
it has to say."
	When the Mifkit's tongue was free, it sputtered,
	"Gimme my body! You ain't got no right to keep us
apart!"
	"Such language!" declared Aunt Em in a shocked
voice. "Why, I declare it's a sin."
	"It's syn-tax shall be promptly levied," said Ozma.
She pointed her sceptre at the head. "YOU ARE
BANISHED!" The head disappeared. Then Ozma
pointed at the body. "GO HEADWAY ALONG!"
	Zipp! The place where the Mifkit had stood was
empty.
	"I hope both parts arrive at the same time," spoke
Ozma. "He was an amusing little savage, but there's
no place for him in Oz."
	"He'll have an interesting story to tell his fellow
critters in the Sandy Waste," said Aunt Em.
	Aunt Em now folded up her knitting. "Your Maj-
esty," she spoke in a decided tone of voice. "You have
had a strenuous session. I move we adjourn to Jenny's
Style Shop. I haven't anything to wear to the Scala-
wagon Initiation this afternoon."
	"I am a bit tired," Ozma admitted. She leaned her
head on her hand wearily. Then she straightened up
and said brightly, "But a new hat will do wonders for
me."
	"Court adjourned!" cried the Soldier with the
Green Whiskers. Raising his trumpet, he blew three
loud notes. Ozma descended from her throne and led
the way out of the Throne Room, through the long
corridor, and down the broad stairs. The people and
the animals followed her to the street. As they got
into their waiting scalawagons, Ozma said to the
Town Crier,
	"Go and cry through the town that a party is to be
given in honor of the scalawagons at Custard Court
at three o'clock, when the babies have finished their
naps. Invite everybody!"

CHAPTER 25

The Great Party

THE Town Crier did his part well. Riding up and
I down streets in his new scalawagon, he covered
more territory than he could on foot. So well and plenti-
fully did he cry that his tears washed all the streets
fresh for the party.
	In a short while all the people in the Emerald City,
including the guests, knew of Ozma's party at Cus-
tard Court. Never had there been such primping and
dressing. Everyone was determined to look his best.
	Jellia Jamb, Ozma's housekeeper, had seen to the
preparations at the Court. In spite of the short no-
tice, everything was in readiness. It required a bit
of magic to prepare some of the features. The Wiz-
ard came to assist Jellia, and with a bit of magic here
and there, wonders were accomplished.
	As soon as the children awoke from their naps, the
people began streaming toward Custard Court. On
Strawberry Street and Celery Street the crowds were
thickest, for these were two short-cuts to the Court.
	In Pudding Place and Banana Boulevard the scala-
wagons rode in a thick formation. In spite of the
crowding, everyone was in good humor. And since
all the traffic was going the same way, there were no
accidents.
	The houses would dearly have loved to join the pro-
cession, but it was against the law for them to leave
their places. They all smiled at the passersby, blink-
ing their blinds and fluttering their shutters.
	Ozma and her friends were still at Jenny's Style
Shop. The first to go through the turn-style had been
the Nota-bells. They were soon turned out in smart
red jackets and blue trousers, and their bells were
given a high polish.
	"Aren't we high-toned!" declared one bell-man,
tossing his head until it rang.
	"You may go on to the party," said Ozma with a  
smile. "I think you'll find what you want there."
	The Nota-bells needed no second invitation. Skip-
ping out of the shop, they hopped aboard a scalawagon
and rode as fast as the crowds permitted. When they
arrived in the Courtyard, they saw something that
made them peal with delight.
	The Tin Woodman and the Scarecrow were rolling
a couple of molasses barrels into the center of the
courtyard. Nick barely had time to raise his ax and
remove the head, before the bell-men came flying
around him like a swarm of bees.
	"Hurry! Hurry!" they cried. They kept circling
around Nick's head, their spread beards keeping them
In another minute the barrel was opened and the
molasses flowed free to all. The excited bell-men
swarmed down and began greedily to lick the sweet
stuff. They did not wait for spoons or dishes or nap-
kins, but used their tongues and fingers, licking away
for their lives.
	The people stood speechless at this spectacle. Only
Scraps, the Patchwork Girl, spoke out:
		"I was never very fussy,
		Neither was I quite so mussy!"
which expressed what most of the people were think-
ing.
	The little men pushed each other and ducked into
the center of the molasses barrel. Soon their new
suits were covered with the sticky molasses. They
picked every drop off and licked their fingers clean.
	A couple of them crawled inside the leaking barrel,
and when they crawled out, they were sticky from
whiskers to toes.
	The sight seemed to fascinate Scraps. She chanted,
		"Pardon me a moment, Misters,
		There's molasses in your whiskers;
		I don't mean to criticise,
		But it's also in your eyes!"
	The bell-men paid no attention to Scraps, but con-
tinued to push and shove each other, each trying to
get the most This rough scene made Scraps very
happy.
	"You don't seem to get enough
	Of this fascinating stuff;
	And when all is said and done,
	I'll admit it must be fun!"
Scraps did not eat, so she had no use for molasses.
But she could not resist getting into a fight. The bell-
men were fighting over the last few drops. With a
squeal and a jump, Scraps landed in the middle of
the bell-men. There was a flying mass of patches,
whiskers, and molasses. The mess provided high en-
tertainment for the crowd.
	Only Jack Pumpkinhead did not think the sight
funny. "Scraps, Scraps," he moaned, "when will you
learn to be a lady?"
	"Did you call for a lady?" inquired a charming
voice at Jack's elbow. Turning, Jack saw a dainty,
two-headed dragonette. The dragonette's two faces
were smiling at Jack, and a soft thread of smoke
came from each mouth. The dragonette put up its
paws and elegantly covered its mouths.
	"Hello, Evangeline," said Jack. "I wish Scraps were
half as polite as you."
	At this minute the crowd parted to make way for
the scalawagons of Ozma and her party. Dorothy was
dressed in princess clothes. Jenny was attired like a
duchess. Aunt Em and Uncle Henry were in their
Sunday best. Many with new Sunbonnets.
	"Gracious, what's happening?" exclaimed Ozma,
surveying the flying mass of Whiskers and Scraps.
	"Looks like a free-for-all," said Uncle Henry.
"Everything is free for all at this party," said Doro-
thy. "And if the refreshments won't go around, we can
eat right in our scalawagons."
	"Scraps and the Nota-bells will have to be refreshed
in another way," said Jenny with a laugh. "Ozma,
call off that fight and order them to my Style Shop.
They can get into clean clothes in a jiffy."
	"A good idea," said Ozma. Raising her voice, she
called, "Scraps, stop your fighting, dear."
	Scraps came out of the flying mess and landed on
her back, sprawling. She was up in a flash, and somer-
saulted to Ozma's scalawagon.
	"What can I do for you, Ozma?" she said.
	"Better do something for yourself, Scraps. Go to
the Style Shop and get yourself a new outfit. And
help the bell-men through the turn-style. When you
all look better, come back and see the fun."
	Scraps drew herself up importantly. "I'll see that
those fellows behave themselves," she said.
	Hearing Ozma's voice, the bell-men stopped fight-
ing and stood up at attention. They were a sorry
sight, with their clothes all askew, and their whiskers
stuck fast in molasses.
	They followed the beckoning Scraps, who took them
to the Style Shop.
	When Scraps returned from the Style Shop, she was
so proud of her new outfit that she rode on the roof
of her scalawagon, so that everyone could see her.
The bell-men, in neat suits of blue and gold, rode
soberly beneath her.
	"Now, good people," Ozma said, standing up in her
Royal scalawagon, "we have some grand entertain-
ment. I hope it will please you!"
	The people broke into cheers for their beloved
Queen. Ozma and her party left their scalawagons
and mounted to the terrace of Custard Court, where
they might overlook the huge, colorful throng. On
the terrace, they found Glinda and the Wizard.
	Glinda, looking her loveliest in a long red robe, with
her long hair flowing over her shoulders, stood up to
greet Ozma.
	"I want to thank you and the Wizard. The scala-
wagons have made my people so happy! During the
day, the children play fire-engine with them, and in
the evening the old folks go riding in the country."
	The Scarecrow and the Tin Woodman now joined
the royal party. "My people enjoy their scalawagons,
too," said the Tin Woodman. "This morning I saw a
Winkie mother tucking her child into one for its forty
winks."
	"My Munchkins have another use for theirs," put
in the Scarecrow. "They mail their letters in them.
It's the fastest service we've ever had."
	"How do they do it?" asked Ozma, looking inter-
ested.
	"They just put their letter inside the scalawagon
and tell the car where to deliver it. In no time at all,
the scalawagon is back-with an answer."
	"Well, if that doesn't beat all!" exclaimed Aunt
Em.
	"Yes, the scalawagons are a wonderful gift to the
people," said Glinda. "And as I was saying, I'd like
to show my appreciation. So--look!"
	The party on the terrace bent to look down into the
court. There, coming through the crowd, were the
six Lollies and their Pops. They carried brimming
buckets of water fairies on their heads. In the center
of the courtyard they lowered the buckets and spread
them with a swish. Glinda stood up and raised her
hands. Instantly a circular brook was flowing there,
with the water fairies bobbing on the surface.
	The people broke into a pandemonium of delight.
They danced and shouted like mad.
	"They love it," said Ozma, giving Glinda a smile
of thanks. "And it certainly adds to the beauty of
the courtyard."
	When the crowd quieted down, the music of the
brook could be heard. The people, recognizing a fa-
miliar waltz, quickly found partners and danced.
The small children formed a ring around the brook
and danced, too. Then overhead, came flying the
eighty-eight bell-men. Joining softly with the music,
they played the "Waltz of the Bells."
	"My, aren't they all having a grand time!" said Aunt
Em. "I declare, it makes me feel young enough to
dance, too!"
	"What are we waiting for?" said Uncle Henry, ris-
ing and offering Aunt Em his arm. The two went off
to join the dancers.
	Just then Number Nine came onto the terrace.
Going up to Jenny, he said, "May I have this dance?"
	Jenny blushed.
	"Go ahead, Jenny," spoke the Wizard. "For I mean
to ask Ozma for this dance myself."
	The Tin Woodman put his hand over his heart.
"That gives me courage to ask Glinda's kind per-
mission for this dance," he said.
	The Scarecrow stepped up to Dorothy and bowed
low. "Will you honor me, my dear?"
	"Why, I'd love to!" cried Dorothy, jumping to her
feet. All the girls went down with their partners.
	The scalawagons were delighted at this party given
in their honor. Rearing up on their hind wheels, they
cavorted as merrily as the rest.
	Now there wasn't a body who wasn't dancing.
Never had there been so much laughter and fun with-
in the Emerald City. The Guardian of the Gate and
the Soldier with the Green Whiskers looked up from
their game of marbles inside the city gate. Hearing
the music, they put their arms on each other's
shoulders and began to waltz.
	"Happy days!" said the Guardian.
	"What's happy about it?" asked a voice behind the
Guardian. It was the Town Crier, crying with all his
might. "They're all so gay, I've nothing to cry about!"
he complained, and he felt so sorry for himself that
he cried harder than ever.
	"That's right," said the Guardian. "Just sit down
and have a good cry. It will make you feel better."
	"I don't want to feel better," said the Crier. "I'm
happiest when I'm saddest. But I can't keep my feet
from dancing to that music!"
	Still crying, he went dancing away. He came to
Custard Court, and stood dancing on the edge of the
crowd.
	Up on the terrace appeared the tall hall clock from
the Wizard's tower.
	"Where's that boy?" grumbled the Clock. "He
ought to be at work. Three and a half days late! Why,
I've ticked myself black in the face, in all that time!
I won't tick if he won't work. I'll just stop!"
	The minute the Clock stopped it heard the music of
the brook and the bells. They were merrily playing
"The Dance of the Hours." The cranky old clock found
its feet tapping on the terrace floor.
	"I can't stop dancing!" it cried, tapping its feet
faster. "This is an outrage! There's work to be done.
Three and a half days late!"
	Turning, the Clock fled from the terrace, across to
the palace, and up the stairs to its corner. But even
there the music could be heard, and the old Clock
could not restrain its feet.
	"Three and a half--Help!" it cried, as it stood hop-
ping and tapping to the merry tune.

The End