Date: 1916-12-31T15:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Children's Literature; Fantasy; Fairy tales
Description: When Princess Ozma mysteriously disappears—and with her all the important magical instruments of Oz—four search parties are sent out, one for each of Oz’s four countries. Most of the book covers the efforts of Dorothy and the Wizard to find her. Meanwhile, Cayke the Cookie Cook discovers that her magic dishpan (on which she bakes her famous cookies) has been stolen. Along with the Frogman, she leaves the tiny country of the Yips to find the pan. ~~~~~ How Ozma is found, and where she has been, will surprise you.
Publisher: MobileRead.com
Rights: Public Domain where copyright is "Life+70" or less, and in the USA.

THE  LOST  PRINCESS  OF  OZ

BY
L. FRANK BAUM
“Royal Historian of Oz”

ILLUSTRATED BY
JOHN R. NEILL

VOLUME II

MobileRead Edition
2020

•
The Lost Princess of Oz:
[ VOLUME II ]

13 — The Truth Pond
14 — The Unhappy Ferryman
15 — The Big Lavender Bear
16 — The Little Pink Bear
17 — The Meeting
18 — The Conference
19 — Ugu the Shoemaker
20 — More Surprises
21 — Magic Against Magic
22 — In the Wicker Castle
23 — The Defiance of Ugu the Shoemaker
24 — The Little Pink Bear Speaks Truly
25 — Ozma of Oz
26 — Dorothy Forgives

•   •   •   •   •

•    On one side of the pool a golden plate on which some words were deeply engraved

•    “I am not the Wisest Creature in all the World; I am not wise at all”

•    “This seems to me to be excellent advice,” said the Frogman

•    The ferryman rowed the two travelers across the river – keeping his back to the Frogman all the way

•    “Halt!” said the brown fuzzy bear
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•    The cork flew out of the barrel with a loud POP!
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•    “His Majesty the King!” shouted Corporal Waddle

•    She fell on her knees and threw her arms around the precious pan

•    A thin little old man was seated on a wicker stool before a wicker table

•    Then the big Lavender Bear picked up the little Pink Bear and tucked it carefully under one arm

•    Scraps and the Frogman took a good look at one another

•    “Then follow me, quick!” said Scraps
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•    They could see Ozma’s Magic Picture

•    …In the Picture was the hillside where they were now sitting, all their forms being reproduced in miniature

•    All eyes were now turned upon the Frogman
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•    The Magic Dishpan was there in an instant, with all its contents

•    All rushed to the brim to peer into the hole

•    The Wizard destroys the barrier of flames
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•    Scraps danced closer to the line of girl soldiers

•    Presently they all slid down to the wall

•    All their lengths made a long line that reached far up the dome

•    They saw the Patchwork Girl swinging from the chandelier

•    The Frogman leaped full upon the back of the great Dove of War

•    Scraps laughed jeeringly

•    The entire party set out in a grand procession to march to the Emerald City

•    “I cannot quite agree with you there,” replied the Scarecrow
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•   •   •   •   •

The Truth Pond

It seems a long time since we have heard anything of the Frogman and Cayke the Cookie Cook, who had left the Yip Country in search of the diamond-studded gold dishpan which had been mysteriously stolen the same night that Ozma had disappeared from the Emerald City. But you must remember that while the Frogman and the Cookie Cook were preparing to descend from their mountain-top, and even while on their way to the farmhouse of Wiljon the Winkie, Dorothy and the Wizard and their friends were encountering the adventures we have just related.

So it was that on the very morning when the travelers from the Emerald City bade farewell to the Czarover of the City of Herku, Cayke and the Frogman awoke in a grove in which they had passed the night sleeping on beds of leaves. There were plenty of farmhouses in the neighborhood, but no one seemed to welcome the puffy, haughty Frogman or the little dried-up Cookie Cook, and so they slept comfortably enough underneath the trees of the grove.

The Frogman wakened first, on this morning, and after going to the tree where Cayke slept and finding her still wrapt in slumber, he decided to take a little walk and seek some breakfast. Coming to the edge of the grove he observed, half a mile away, a pretty yellow house that was surrounded by a yellow picket fence, so he walked toward this house and on entering the yard found a Winkie woman picking up sticks with which to build a fire to cook her morning meal.

“For goodness sakes!” she exclaimed on seeing the Frogman, “what are you doing out of your frog-pond?”

“I am traveling in search of a jeweled gold dishpan, my good woman,” he replied, with an air of great dignity.

“You won’t find it here, then,” said she. “Our dishpans are tin, and they’re good enough for anybody. So go back to your pond and leave me alone.”

She spoke rather crossly and with a lack of respect that greatly annoyed the Frogman.

“Allow me to tell you, madam,” he said, “that although I am a frog I am the Greatest and Wisest Frog in all the world. I may add that I possess much more wisdom than any Winkie—man or woman—in this land. Wherever I go, people fall on their knees before me and render homage to the Great Frogman! No one else knows so much as I; no one else is so grand—so magnificent!”

“If you know so much,” she retorted, “why don’t you know where your dishpan is, instead of chasing around the country after it?”

“Presently,” he answered, “I am going where it is; but just now I am traveling and have had no breakfast. Therefore I honor you by asking you for something to eat.”

“Oho! the Great Frogman is hungry as any tramp, is he? Then pick up these sticks and help me to build the fire,” said the woman contemptuously.

“Me! The Great Frogman pick up sticks?” he exclaimed in horror. “In the Yip Country, where I am more honored and powerful than any King could be, people weep with joy when I ask them to feed me.”

“Then that’s the place to go for your breakfast,” declared the woman.

“I fear you do not realize my importance,” urged the Frogman. “Exceeding wisdom renders me superior to menial duties.”

“It’s a great wonder to me,” remarked the woman, carrying her sticks to the house, “that your wisdom doesn’t inform you that you’ll get no breakfast here,” and she went in and slammed the door behind her.

The Frogman felt he had been insulted, so he gave a loud croak of indignation and turned away. After going a short distance he came upon a faint path which led across a meadow in the direction of a grove of pretty trees, and thinking this circle of evergreens must surround a house—where perhaps he would be kindly received—he decided to follow the path. And by and by he came to the trees, which were set close together, and pushing aside some branches he found no house inside the circle, but instead a very beautiful pond of clear water.

Now the Frogman, although he was so big and so well educated and now aped the ways and customs of human beings, was still a frog. As he gazed at this solitary, deserted pond, his love for water returned to him with irresistible force.

“If I cannot get a breakfast I may at least have a fine swim,” said he, and pushing his way between the trees he reached the bank. There he took off his fine clothing, laying his shiny purple hat and his gold-headed cane beside it. A moment later he sprang with one leap into the water and dived to the very bottom of the pond.

The water was deliciously cool and grateful to his thick, rough skin, and the Frogman swam around the pond several times before he stopped to rest. Then he floated upon the surface and examined the pond with some curiosity. The bottom and sides were all lined with glossy tiles of a light pink color; just one place in the bottom, where the water bubbled up from a hidden spring, had been left free. On the banks the green grass grew to the edge of the pink tiling.

And now, as the Frogman examined the place, he found that on one side of the pool, just above the water line, had been set a golden plate on which some words were deeply engraved. He swam toward this plate and on reaching it read the following inscription:

This is
THE TRUTH POND
Whoever bathes in this water
must always afterward tell
THE TRUTH

This statement startled the Frogman. It even worried him, so that he leaped upon the bank and hurriedly began to dress himself.

“A great misfortune has befallen me,” he told himself, “for hereafter I cannot tell people I am wise, since it is not the truth. The truth is that my boasted wisdom is all a sham, assumed by me to deceive people and make them defer to me. In truth, no living creature can know much more than his fellows, for one may know one thing, and another know another thing, so that wisdom is evenly scattered throughout the world. But—ah, me!—what a terrible fate will now be mine. Even Cayke the Cookie Cook will soon discover that my knowledge is no greater than her own; for having bathed in the enchanted water of the Truth Pond, I can no longer deceive her or tell a lie.”

More humbled than he had been for many years, the Frogman went back to the grove where he had left Cayke and found the woman now awake and washing her face in a tiny brook.

“Where has Your Honor been?” she asked.

“To a farmhouse to ask for something to eat,” said he, “but the woman refused me.”

“How dreadful!” she exclaimed. “But never mind; there are other houses, where the people will be glad to feed the Wisest Creature in all the World.”

“Do you mean yourself?” he asked.

“No, I mean you.”

The Frogman felt strongly impelled to tell the truth, but struggled hard against it. His reason told him there was no use in letting Cayke know he was not wise, for then she would lose much respect for him, but each time he opened his mouth to speak he realized he was about to tell the truth and shut it again as quickly as possible. He tried to talk about something else, but the words necessary to undeceive the woman would force themselves to his lips in spite of all his struggles. Finally, knowing that he must either remain dumb or let the truth prevail, he gave a low groan of despair and said:

“Cayke, I am not the Wisest Creature in all the World; I am not wise at all.”

“Oh, you must be!” she protested. “You told me so yourself, only last evening.”

“Then last evening I failed to tell you the truth,” he admitted, looking very shamefaced, for a frog. “I am sorry I told you that lie, my good Cayke; but, if you must know the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, I am not really as wise as you are.”

The Cookie Cook was greatly shocked to hear this, for it shattered one of her most pleasing illusions. She looked at the gorgeously dressed Frogman in amazement.

“What has caused you to change your mind so suddenly?” she inquired.

“I have bathed in the Truth Pond,” he said, “and whoever bathes in that water is ever afterward obliged to tell the truth.”

“You were foolish to do that,” declared the woman. “It is often very embarrassing to tell the truth. I’m glad I didn’t bathe in that dreadful water!”

The Frogman looked at his companion thoughtfully.

“Cayke,” said he, “I want you to go to the Truth Pond and take a bath in its water. For, if we are to travel together and encounter unknown adventures, it would not be fair that I alone must always tell you the truth, while you could tell me whatever you pleased. If we both dip in the enchanted water there will be no chance in the future of our deceiving one another.”

“No,” she asserted, shaking her head positively, “I won’t do it, Your Honor. For, if I told you the truth, I’m sure you wouldn’t like me. No Truth Pond for me. I’ll be just as I am, an honest woman who can say what she wants to without hurting anyone’s feelings.”

With this decision the Frogman was forced to be content, although he was sorry the Cookie Cook would not listen to his advice.

The Unhappy Ferryman

Leaving the grove where they had slept, the Frogman and the Cookie Cook turned to the east to seek another house and after a short walk came to one where the people received them very politely. The children stared rather hard at the big, pompous Frogman, but the woman of the house, when Cayke asked for something to eat, at once brought them food and said they were welcome to it.

“Few people in need of help pass this way,” she remarked, “for the Winkies are all prosperous and love to stay in their own homes. But perhaps you are not a Winkle,” she added.

“No,” said Cayke, “I am a Yip, and my home is on a high mountain at the southeast of your country.”

“And the Frogman—is he, also, a Yip?”

“I do not know what he is, other than a very remarkable and highly educated creature,” replied the Cookie Cook. “But he has lived many years among the Yips, who have found him so wise and intelligent that they always go to him for advice.”

“May I ask why you have left your home, and where you are going?” said the Winkie woman.

Then Cayke told her of the diamond-studded gold dishpan and how it had been mysteriously stolen from her house, after which she had discovered that she could no longer cook good cookies. So she had resolved to search until she found her dishpan again, because a Cookie Cook who cannot cook good cookies is not of much use. The Frogman, who wanted to see more of the world, had accompanied her to assist in the search. When the woman had listened to this story she asked.

“Then you have no idea, as yet, who has stolen your dishpan?”

“I only know it must have been some mischievous fairy, or a magician, or some such powerful person, because none other could have climbed the steep mountain to the Yip Country. And who else could have carried away my beautiful, magic dishpan without being seen?”

The woman thought about this during the time that Cayke and the Frogman ate their breakfast. When they had finished she said:

“Where are you going next?”

“We have not decided,” answered the Cookie Cook.

“Our plan,” explained the Frogman, in his important way, “is to travel from place to place until we learn where the thief is located, and then to force him to return the dishpan to its proper owner.”

“The plan is all right,” agreed the woman, “but it may take you a long time before you succeed, your method being sort of haphazard and indefinite. However, I advise you to travel toward the east.”

“Why?” asked the Frogman.

“Because if you went west you would soon come to the desert, and also because in this part of the Winkie Country no one steals, so your time here would be wasted. But toward the east, beyond the river, live many strange people whose honesty I would not vouch for. Moreover, if you journey far enough east and cross the river for a second time, you will come to the Emerald City, where there is much magic and sorcery. The Emerald City is ruled by a dear little girl called Ozma, who also rules the Emperor of the Winkies and all the Land of Oz. So, as Ozma is a fairy, she may be able to tell you just who has taken your precious dishpan. Provided, of course, you do not find it before you reach her.”

“This seems to me to be excellent advice,” said the Frogman, and Cayke agreed with him.

“The most sensible thing for you to do,” continued the woman, “would be to return to your home and use another dishpan, learning to cook cookies as other people cook cookies, without the aid of magic. But, if you cannot be happy without the magic dishpan you have lost, you are likely to learn more about it in the Emerald City than at any other place in Oz.”

They thanked the good woman and on leaving her house faced the east and continued in that direction all the way. Toward evening they came to the west branch of the Winkie River and there, on the river bank, found a ferryman who lived all alone in a little yellow house.

This ferryman was a Winkie with a very small head and a very large body. He was sitting in his doorway as the travelers approached him and did not even turn his head to look at them.

“Good evening,” said the Frogman.

The ferryman made no reply.

“We would like some supper and the privilege of sleeping in your house until morning,” continued the Frogman. “At daybreak we would like some breakfast and then we would like to have you row us across the river.”

The ferryman neither moved nor spoke. He sat in his doorway and looked straight ahead.

“I think he must be deaf and dumb,” Cayke whispered to her companion. Then she stood directly in front of the ferryman and putting her mouth close to his ear she yelled as loudly as she could:

“Good evening!”

The ferryman scowled.

“Why do you yell at me, woman?” he asked.

“Can you hear what I say?” she asked in her ordinary tone of voice.

“Of course,” replied the man.

“Then why didn’t you answer the Frogman?”

“Because,” said the ferryman, “I don’t understand the frog language.”

“He speaks the same words that I do and in the same way,” declared Cayke.

“Perhaps,” replied the ferryman; “but to me his voice sounded like a frog’s croak. I know that in the Land of Oz animals can speak our language, and so can the birds and bugs and fishes; but in my ears they sound merely like growls and chirps and croaks.”

“Why is that?” asked the Cookie Cook in surprise.

“Once, many years ago, I cut the tail off a fox which had taunted me; and I stole some birds’ eggs from a nest to make an omelet with, and also I pulled a fish from the river and left it lying on the bank to gasp for lack of water until it died. I don’t know why I did those wicked things, but I did them. So the Emperor of the Winkies—who is the Tin Woodman and has a very tender tin heart—punished me by denying me any communication with beasts, birds or fishes. I cannot understand them when they speak to me, although I know that other people can do so, nor can the creatures understand a word I say to them. Every time I meet one of them I am reminded of my former cruelty, and it makes me very unhappy.”

“Really,” said Cayke, “I’m sorry for you, although the Tin Woodman is not to blame for punishing you.”

“What is he mumbling about?” asked the Frogman.

“He is talking to me, but you don’t understand him,” she replied. And then she told him of the ferryman’s punishment and afterward explained to the ferryman that they wanted to stay all night with him and be fed.

He gave them some fruit and bread, which was the only sort of food he had, and he allowed Cayke to sleep in a room of his cottage. But the Frogman he refused to admit to his house, saying that the frog’s presence made him miserable and unhappy. At no time would he look directly at the Frogman, or even toward him, fearing he would shed tears if he did so; so the big frog slept on the river bank, where he could hear little frogs croaking in the river all the night through. But that did not keep him awake; it merely soothed him to slumber, for he realized how much superior he was to them.

Just as the sun was rising on a new day the ferryman rowed the two travelers across the river—keeping his back to the Frogman all the way—and then Cayke thanked him and bade him good-bye and the ferryman rowed home again.

On this side the river there were no paths at all, so it was evident they had reached a part of the country little frequented by travelers. There was a marsh at the south of them, sandhills at the north and a growth of scrubby underbrush leading toward a forest at the east. So the east was really the least difficult way to go and that direction was the one they had determined to follow.

Now the Frogman, although he wore green patent-leather shoes with ruby buttons, had very large and flat feet, and when he tramped through the scrub his weight crushed down the underbrush and made a path for Cayke to follow him. Therefore they soon reached the forest, where the tall trees were set far apart but were so leafy that they shaded all the spaces between them with their branches.

“There are no bushes here,” said Cayke, much pleased, “so we can now travel faster and with more comfort.”

The Big Lavender Bear

It was a pleasant place to wander in and the two travelers were proceeding at a brisk pace when suddenly a voice shouted:

“Halt!”

They looked around in surprise, seeing at first no one at all. Then from behind a tree there stepped a brown fuzzy bear, whose head came about as high as Cayke’s waist—and Cayke was a small woman. The bear was chubby as well as fuzzy; his body was even puffy, while his legs and arms seemed jointed at the knees and elbows and fastened to his body by pins or rivets. His ears were round in shape and stuck out in a comical way, while his round black eyes were bright and sparkling as beads. Over his shoulder the little brown bear bore a gun with a tin barrel. The barrel had a cork in the end of it and a string was attached to the cork and to the handle of the gun.

Both the Frogman and Cayke gazed hard at this curious bear, standing silent for some time. But finally the Frogman recovered from his surprise and remarked:

“It seems to me that you are stuffed with sawdust and ought not to be alive.”

“That’s all you know about it,” answered the little Brown Bear in a squeaky voice. “I am stuffed with a very good quality of curled hair and my skin is the best plush that was ever made. As for my being alive, that is my own affair and cannot concern you at all—except that it gives me the privilege to say you are my prisoners.”

“Prisoners! Why do you speak such nonsense?” asked the Frogman angrily. “Do you think we are afraid of a toy bear with a toy gun?”

“You ought to be,” was the confident reply, “for I am merely the sentry guarding the way to Bear Center, which is a city containing hundreds of my race, who are ruled by a very powerful sorcerer known as the Lavender Bear. He ought to be a purple color, you know, seeing he is a King, but he’s only light lavender, which is, of course, second-cousin to royal purple. So, unless you come with me peaceably, as my prisoners, I shall fire my gun and bring a hundred bears—of all sizes and colors—to capture you.”

“Why do you wish to capture us?” inquired the Frogman, who had listened to this speech with much astonishment.

“I don’t wish to, as a matter of fact,” replied the little Brown Bear, “but it is my duty to, because you are now trespassing on the domain of His Majesty the King of Bear Center. Also I will admit that things are rather quiet in our city, just now, and the excitement of your capture, followed by your trial and execution, should afford us much entertainment.”

“We defy you!” said the Frogman.

“Oh, no; don’t do that,” pleaded Cayke, speaking to her companion. “He says his King is a sorcerer, so perhaps it is he or one of his bears who ventured to steal my jeweled dishpan. Let us go to the City of the Bears and discover if my dishpan is there.”

“I must now register one more charge against you,” remarked the little Brown Bear, with evident satisfaction. “You have just accused us of stealing, and that is such a dreadful thing to say that I am quite sure our noble King will command you to be executed.”

“But how could you execute us?” inquired the Cookie Cook.

“I’ve no idea. But our King is a wonderful inventor and there is no doubt he can find a proper way to destroy you. So, tell me, are you going to struggle, or will you go peaceably to meet your doom?”

It was all so ridiculous that Cayke laughed aloud and even the Frogman’s wide mouth curled in a smile. Neither was a bit afraid to go to the Bear City and it seemed to both that there was a possibility they might discover the missing dishpan. So the Frogman said:

“Lead the way, little Bear, and we will follow without a struggle.”

“That’s very sensible of you; very sensible, indeed!” declared the Brown Bear. “So—for-ward march!” and with the command he turned around and began to waddle along a path that led between the trees.

Cayke and the Frogman, as they followed their conductor, could scarce forbear laughing at his stiff, awkward manner of walking and, although he moved his stuffy legs fast, his steps were so short that they had to go slowly in order not to run into him. But after a time they reached a large, circular space in the center of the forest, which was clear of any stumps or underbrush. The ground was covered by a soft gray moss, pleasant to tread upon. All the trees surrounding this space seemed to be hollow and had round holes in their trunks, set a little way above the ground, but otherwise there was nothing unusual about the place and nothing, in the opinion of the prisoners, to indicate a settlement. But the little Brown Bear said in a proud and impressive voice (although it still squeaked):

“This is the wonderful city known to fame as Bear Center!”

“But there are no houses; there are no bears living here at all!” exclaimed Cayke.

“Oh, indeed!” retorted their captor and raising his gun he pulled the trigger. The cork flew out of the tin barrel with a loud “pop!” and at once from every hole in every tree within view of the clearing appeared the head of a bear. They were of many colors and of many sizes, but all were made in the same manner as the bear who had met and captured them.

At first a chorus of growls arose and then a sharp voice cried:

“What has happened, Corporal Waddle?”

“Captives, Your Majesty!” answered the Brown Bear. “Intruders upon our domain and slanderers of our good name.”

“Ah, that’s important,” answered the voice.

Then from out the hollow trees tumbled a whole regiment of stuffed bears, some carrying tin swords, some popguns and others long spears with gay ribbons tied to the handles. There were hundreds of them, altogether, and they quickly formed a circle around the Frogman and the Cookie Cook but kept at a distance and left a large space for the prisoners to stand in.

Presently this circle parted and into the center of it stalked a huge toy bear of a lovely lavender color. He walked upon his hind legs, as did all the others, and on his head he wore a tin crown set with diamonds and amethysts, while in one paw he carried a short wand of some glittering metal that resembled silver but wasn’t.

“His Majesty the King!” shouted Corporal Waddle, and all the bears bowed low. Some bowed so low that they lost their balance and toppled over, but they soon scrambled up again and the Lavender King squatted on his haunches before the prisoners and gazed at them steadily with his bright pink eyes.

The Little Pink Bear

“One Person and one Freak,” said the big Lavender Bear, when he had carefully examined the strangers.

“I am sorry to hear you call poor Cayke the Cookie Cook a Freak,” remonstrated the Frogman.

“She is the Person,” asserted the King. “Unless I am mistaken, it is you who are the Freak.”

The Frogman was silent, for he could not truthfully deny it.

“Why have you dared intrude in my forest?” demanded the Bear King.

“We didn’t know it was your forest,” said Cayke, “and we are on our way to the far east, where the Emerald City is.”

“Ah, it’s a long way from here to the Emerald City,” remarked the King. “It is so far away, indeed, that no bear among us has ever been there. But what errand requires you to travel such a distance?”

“Someone has stolen my diamond-studded gold dishpan,” explained Cayke; “and, as I cannot be happy without it, I have decided to search the world over until I find it again. The Frogman, who is very learned and wonderfully wise, has come with me to give me his assistance. Isn’t it kind of him?”

The King looked at the Frogman.

“What makes you so wonderfully wise?” he asked.

“I’m not,” was the candid reply. “The Cookie Cook, and some others in the Yip Country, think because I am a big frog and talk and act like a man, that I must be very wise. I have learned more than a frog usually knows, it is true, but I am not yet so wise as I hope to become at some future time.”

The King nodded, and when he did so something squeaked in his chest.

“Did Your Majesty speak?” asked Cayke.

“Not just then,” answered the Lavender Bear, seeming to be somewhat embarrassed. “I am so built, you must know, that when anything pushes against my chest, as my chin accidentally did just then, I make that silly noise. In this city it isn’t considered good manners to notice it. But I like your Frogman. He is honest and truthful, which is more than can be said of many others. As for your late lamented dishpan, I’ll show it to you.”

With this he waved three times the metal wand which he held in his paw and instantly there appeared upon the ground, midway between the King and Cayke, a big round pan made of beaten gold. Around the top edge was a row of small diamonds; around the center of the pan was another row of larger diamonds; and at the bottom was a row of exceedingly large and brilliant diamonds. In fact, they all sparkled magnificently and the pan was so big and broad that it took a lot of diamonds to go around it three times.

Cayke stared so hard that her eyes seemed about to pop out of her head.

“O-o-o-oh!” she exclaimed, drawing a deep breath of delight.

“Is this your dishpan?” inquired the King.

“It is—it is!” cried the Cookie Cook, and rushing forward she fell on her knees and threw her arms around the precious pan. But her arms came together without meeting any resistance at all. Cayke tried to seize the edge, but found nothing to grasp. The pan was surely there, she thought, for she could see it plainly; but it was not solid; she could not feel it at all. With a moan of astonishment and despair she raised her head to look at the Bear King, who was watching her actions curiously. Then she turned to the pan again, only to find it had completely disappeared.

“Poor creature!” murmured the King pityingly. “You must have thought, for the moment, that you had actually recovered your dishpan. But what you saw was merely the image of it, conjured up by means of my magic. It is a pretty dishpan, indeed, though rather big and awkward to handle. I hope you will someday find it.”

Cayke was grievously disappointed. She began to cry, wiping her eyes on her apron. The King turned to the throng of toy bears surrounding him and asked:

“Has any of you ever seen this golden dishpan before?”

“No,” they answered in a chorus.

The King seemed to reflect. Presently he inquired:

“Where is the Little Pink Bear?”

“At home, Your Majesty,” was the reply, “Fetch him here,” commanded the King.

Several of the bears waddled over to one of the trees and pulled from its hollow a tiny pink bear, smaller than any of the others. A big white bear carried the pink one in his arms and set it down beside the King, arranging the joints of its legs so that it would stand upright.

This Pink Bear seemed lifeless until the King turned a crank which protruded from its side, when the little creature turned its head stiffly from side to side and said in a small shrill voice:

“Hurrah for the King of Bear Center!”

“Very good,” said the big Lavender Bear; “he seems to be working very well today. Tell me, my Pink Pinkerton, what has become of this lady’s jeweled dishpan?”

“U—u—u,” said the Pink Bear, and then stopped short.

The King turned the crank again.

“U-g-u the Shoemaker has it,” said the Pink Bear.

“Who is Ugu the Shoemaker?” demanded the King, again turning the crank.

“A magician who lives on a mountain in a wickerwork castle,” was the reply.

“Where is this mountain?” was the next question.

“Nineteen miles and three furlongs from Bear Center to the northeast.”

“And is the dishpan still at the castle of Ugu the Shoemaker?” asked the King.

“It is.”

The King turned to Cayke.

“You may rely on this information,” said he. “The Pink Bear can tell us anything we wish to know, and his words are always words of truth.”

“Is he alive?” asked the Frogman, much interested in the Pink Bear.

“Something animates him—when you turn his crank,” replied the King. “I do not know if it is life, or what it is, or how it happens that the Little Pink Bear can answer correctly every question put to him. We discovered his talent a long time ago and whenever we wish to know anything—which is not very often—we ask the Pink Bear. There is no doubt whatever, madam, that Ugu the Magician has your dishpan, and if you dare go to him you may be able to recover it. But of that I am not certain.”

“Can’t the Pink Bear tell?” asked Cayke anxiously.

“No, for that is in the future. He can tell anything that has happened, but nothing that is going to happen. Don’t ask me why, for I don’t know.”

“Well,” said the Cookie Cook, after a little thought, “I mean to go to this magician, anyhow, and tell him I want my dishpan. I wish I knew what Ugu the Shoemaker is like.”

“Then I’ll show him to you,” promised the King. “But do not be frightened; it won’t be Ugu, remember, but only his image.”

With this he waved his metal wand again and in the circle suddenly appeared a thin little man, very old and skinny, who was seated on a wicker stool before a wicker table. On the table lay a Great Book with gold clasps. The Book was open and the man was reading in it. He wore great spectacles, which were fastened before his eyes by means of a ribbon that passed around his head and was tied in a bow at the back. His hair was very thin and white; his skin, which clung fast to his bones, was brown and seared with furrows; he had a big, fat nose and little eyes set close together.

On no account was Ugu the Shoemaker a pleasant person to gaze at. As his image appeared before them, all were silent and intent until Corporal Waddle, the Brown Bear, became nervous and pulled the trigger of his gun. Instantly the cork flew out of the tin barrel with a loud “pop!” that made them all jump. And, at this sound, the image of the magician vanished.

“So! that’s the thief, is it?” said Cayke, in an angry voice. “I should think he’d be ashamed of himself for stealing a poor woman’s diamond dishpan! But I mean to face him in his wicker castle and force him to return my property.”

“To me,” said the Bear King, reflectively, “he looked like a dangerous person. I hope he won’t be so unkind as to argue the matter with you.”

The Frogman was much disturbed by the vision of Ugu the Shoemaker, and Cayke’s determination to go to the magician filled her companion with misgivings. But he would not break his pledged word to assist the Cookie Cook and after breathing a deep sigh of resignation he asked the King:

“Will Your Majesty lend us this Pink Bear who answers questions, that we may take him with us on our journey? He would be very useful to us and we will promise to bring him safely back to you.”

The King did not reply at once; he seemed to be thinking.

“Please let us take the Pink Bear,” begged Cayke. “I’m sure he would be a great help to us.”

“The Pink Bear,” said the King, “is the best bit of magic I possess, and there is not another like him in the world. I do not care to let him out of my sight; nor do I wish to disappoint you; so I believe I will make the journey in your company and carry my Pink Bear with me. He can walk, when you wind the other side of him, but so slowly and awkwardly that he would delay you. But if I go along I can carry him in my arms, so I will join your party. Whenever you are ready to start, let me know.”

“But—Your Majesty!” exclaimed Corporal Waddle in protest, “I hope you do not intend to let these prisoners escape without punishment.”

“Of what crime do you accuse them?” inquired the King.

“Why, they trespassed on your domain, for one thing,” said the Brown Bear.

“We didn’t know it was private property, Your Majesty,” said the Cookie Cook.

“And they asked if any of us had stolen the dishpan!” continued Corporal Waddle indignantly. “That is the same thing as calling us thieves and robbers, and bandits and brigands, is it not?”

“Every person has the right to ask questions,” said the Frogman.

“But the Corporal is quite correct,” declared the Lavender Bear. “I condemn you both to death, the execution to take place ten years from this hour.”

“But we belong in the Land of Oz, where no one ever dies,” Cayke reminded him.

“Very true,” said the King. “I condemn you to death merely as a matter of form. It sounds quite terrible, and in ten years we shall have forgotten all about it. Are you ready to start for the wicker castle of Ugu the Shoemaker?”

“Quite ready, Your Majesty.”

“But who will rule in your place, while you are gone?” asked a big Yellow Bear.

“I myself will rule while I am gone,” was the reply. “A King isn’t required to stay at home forever, and if he takes a notion to travel, whose business is it but his own? All I ask is that you bears behave yourselves while I am away. If any of you is naughty, I’ll send him to some girl or boy in America to play with.”

This dreadful threat made all the toy bears look solemn. They assured the King, in a chorus of growls, that they would be good. Then the big Lavender Bear picked up the little Pink Bear and after tucking it carefully under one arm he said “Good-bye till I come back!” and waddled along the path that led through the forest. The Frogman and Cayke the Cookie Cook also said good-bye to the bears and then followed after the King, much to the regret of the little Brown Bear, who pulled the trigger of his gun and popped the cork as a parting salute.

The Meeting

While the Frogman and his party were advancing from the west, Dorothy and her party were advancing from the east, and so it happened that on the following night they all camped at a little hill that was only a few miles from the wicker castle of Ugu the Shoemaker. But the two parties did not see one another that night, for one camped on one side of the hill while the other camped on the opposite side. But the next morning the Frogman thought he would climb the hill and see what was on top of it, and at the same time Scraps, the Patchwork Girl, also decided to climb the hill to find if the wicker castle was visible from its top. So she stuck her head over an edge just as the Frogman’s head appeared over another edge and both, being surprised, kept still while they took a good look at one another.

Scraps recovered from her astonishment first and bounding upward she turned a somersault and landed sitting down and facing the big Frogman, who slowly advanced and sat opposite her.

“Well met, Stranger!” cried the Patchwork Girl, with a whoop of laughter. “You are quite the funniest individual I have seen in all my travels.”

“Do you suppose I can be any funnier than you?” asked the Frogman, gazing at her in wonder.

“I’m not funny to myself, you know,” returned Scraps. “I wish I were. And perhaps you are so used to your own absurd shape that you do not laugh whenever you see your reflection in a pool, or in a mirror.”

“No,” said the Frogman gravely, “I do not. I used to be proud of my great size and vain of my culture and education, but since I bathed in the Truth Pond I sometimes think it is not right that I should be different from all other frogs.”

“Right or wrong,” said the Patchwork Girl, “to be different is to be distinguished. Now, in my case, I’m just like all other Patchwork Girls because I’m the only one there is. But, tell me, where did you come from?”

“The Yip Country,” said he.

“Is that in the Land of Oz?”

“Of course,” replied the Frogman.

“And do you know that your Ruler, Ozma of Oz, has been stolen?”

“I was not aware that I had a Ruler, so of course I couldn’t know that she was stolen.”

“Well, you have. All the people of Oz,” explained Scraps, “are ruled by Ozma, whether they know it or not. And she has been stolen. Aren’t you angry? Aren’t you indignant? Your Ruler, whom you didn’t know you had, has positively been stolen!”

“That is queer,” remarked the Frogman thoughtfully. “Stealing is a thing practically unknown in Oz, yet this Ozma has been taken and a friend of mine has also had her dishpan stolen. With her I have traveled all the way from the Yip Country in order to recover it.”

“I don’t see any connection between a Royal Ruler of Oz and a dishpan!” declared Scraps.

“They’ve both been stolen, haven’t they?”

“True. But why can’t your friend wash her dishes in another dishpan?” asked Scraps.

“Why can’t you use another Royal Ruler? I suppose you prefer the one who is lost, and my friend wants her own dishpan, which is made of gold and studded with diamonds and has magic powers.”

“Magic, eh?” exclaimed Scraps. “There is a link that connects the two steals, anyhow, for it seems that all the magic in the Land of Oz was stolen at the same time, whether it was in the Emerald City or in Glinda’s castle or in the Yip Country. Seems mighty strange and mysterious, doesn’t it?”

“It used to seem that way to us,” admitted the Frogman, “but we have now discovered who took our dishpan. It was Ugu the Shoemaker.”

“Ugu? Good gracious! That’s the same magician we think has stolen Ozma. We are now on our way to the castle of this Shoemaker.”

“So are we,” said the Frogman.

“Then follow me, quick! and let me introduce you to Dorothy and the other girls and to the Wizard of Oz and all the rest of us.”

She sprang up and seized his coat-sleeve, dragging him off the hilltop and down the other side from that whence he had come. And at the foot of the hill the Frogman was astonished to find the three girls and the Wizard and Button-Bright, who were surrounded by a wooden Sawhorse, a lean Mule, a square Woozy and a Cowardly Lion. A little black dog ran up and smelled at the Frogman, but couldn’t growl at him.

“I’ve discovered another party that has been robbed,” shouted Scraps as she joined them. “This is their leader and they’re all going to Ugu’s castle to fight the wicked Shoemaker!”

They regarded the Frogman with much curiosity and interest and, finding all eyes fixed upon him, the newcomer arranged his necktie and smoothed his beautiful vest and swung his gold-headed cane like a regular dandy. The big spectacles over his eyes quite altered his froglike countenance and gave him a learned and impressive look. Used as she was to seeing strange creatures in the Land of Oz, Dorothy was amazed at discovering the Frogman. So were all her companions. Toto wanted to growl at him, but couldn’t, and he didn’t dare bark. The Sawhorse snorted rather contemptuously, but the Lion whispered to the wooden steed: “Bear with this strange creature, my friend, and remember he is no more extraordinary than you are. Indeed, it is more natural for a frog to be big than for a Sawhorse to be alive.”

On being questioned, the Frogman told them the whole story of the loss of Cayke’s highly prized dishpan and their adventures in search of it. When he came to tell of the Lavender Bear King and of the Little Pink Bear who could tell anything you wanted to know, his hearers became eager to see such interesting animals.

“It will be best,” said the Wizard, “to unite our two parties and share our fortunes together, for we are all bound on the same errand and as one band we may more easily defy this shoemaker magician than if separate. Let us be allies.”

“I will ask my friends about that,” replied the Frogman, and climbed over the hill to find Cayke and the toy bears. The Patchwork Girl accompanied him and when they came upon the Cookie Cook and the Lavender Bear and the Pink Bear it was hard to tell which of the lot was the most surprised.

“Mercy me!” cried Cayke, addressing the Patchwork Girl. “However did you come alive?”

Scraps stared at the bears.

“Mercy me!” she echoed; “you are stuffed, as I am, with cotton, and yet you appear to be living. That makes me feel ashamed, for I have prided myself on being the only live cotton-stuffed person in Oz.”

“Perhaps you are,” returned the Lavender Bear, “for I am stuffed with extra-quality curled hair, and so is the Little Pink Bear.”

“You have relieved my mind of a great anxiety,” declared the Patchwork Girl, now speaking more cheerfully. “The Scarecrow is stuffed with straw, and you with hair, so I am still the Original and Only Cotton-Stuffed!”

“I hope I am too polite to criticize cotton, as compared with curled hair,” said the King, “especially as you seem satisfied with it.”

Then the Frogman told of his interview with the party from the Emerald City and added that the Wizard of Oz had invited the bears and Cayke and himself to travel in company with them to the castle of Ugu the Shoemaker. Cayke was much pleased, but the Bear King looked solemn. He set the Little Pink Bear on his lap and turned the crank in its side and asked:

“Is it safe for us to associate with those people from the Emerald City?”

And the Pink Bear at once replied:

“Safe for you and safe for me;

Perhaps no others safe will be.”

“That ‘perhaps’ need not worry us,” said the King; “so let us join the others and offer them our protection.”

Even the Lavender Bear was astonished, however, when on climbing over the hill he found on the other side the group of queer animals and the people from the Emerald City. The bears and Cayke were received very cordially, although Button-Bright was cross when they wouldn’t let him play with the Little Pink Bear. The three girls greatly admired the toy bears, and especially the pink one, which they longed to hold.

“You see,” explained the Lavender King, in denying them this privilege, “he’s a very valuable bear, because his magic is a correct guide on all occasions, and especially if one is in difficulties. It was the Pink Bear who told us that Ugu the Shoemaker had stolen the Cookie Cook’s dishpan.”

“And the King’s magic is just as wonderful,” added Cayke, “because it showed us the Magician himself.”

“What did he look like?” inquired Dorothy.

“He was dreadful!”

“He was sitting at a table and examining an immense Book which had three golden clasps,” remarked the King.

“Why, that must have been Glinda’s Great Book of Records!” exclaimed Dorothy. “If it is, it proves that Ugu the Shoemaker stole Ozma, and with her all the magic in the Emerald City.”

“And my dishpan,” said Cayke. And the Wizard added:

“It also proves that he is following our adventures in the Book of Records, and therefore knows that we are seeking him and that we are determined to find him and rescue Ozma at all hazards.”

“If we can,” added the Woozy, but everybody frowned at him.

The Wizard’s statement was so true that the faces around him were very serious until the Patchwork Girl broke into a peal of laughter.

“Wouldn’t it be a rich joke if he made prisoners of us, too?” she said.

“No one but a crazy Patchwork Girl would consider that a joke,” grumbled Button-Bright. And then the Lavender Bear King asked:

“Would you like to see this magical shoemaker?”

“Wouldn’t he know it?” Dorothy inquired.

“No, I think not.”

Then the King waved his metal wand and before them appeared a room in the wicker castle of Ugu. On the wall of the room hung Ozma’s Magic Picture, and seated before it was the Magician. They could see the Picture as well as he could, because it faced them, and in the Picture was the hillside where they were now sitting, all their forms being reproduced in miniature.

And, curiously enough, within the scene of the Picture was the scene they were now beholding, so they knew that the Magician was at this moment watching them in the Picture, and also that he saw himself and the room he was in become visible to the people on the hillside. Therefore he knew very well that they were watching him while he was watching them.

In proof of this, Ugu sprang from his seat and turned a scowling face in their direction; but now he could not see the travelers who were seeking him, although they could still see him. His actions were so distinct, indeed, that it seemed he was actually before them.

“It is only a ghost,” said the Bear King. “It isn’t real at all, except that it shows us Ugu just as he looks and tells us truly just what he is doing.”

“I don’t see anything of my lost growl, though,” said Toto, as if to himself.

Then the vision faded away and they could see nothing but the grass and trees and bushes around them.

The Conference

“Now, then,” said the Wizard, “let us talk this matter over and decide what to do when we get to Ugu’s wicker castle. There can be no doubt that the Shoemaker is a powerful Magician, and his powers have been increased a hundredfold since he secured the Great Book of Records, the Magic Picture, all of Glinda’s recipes for sorcery and my own black bag—which was full of tools of wizardry. The man who could rob us of those things, and the man with all their powers at his command, is one who may prove somewhat difficult to conquer; therefore we should plan our actions well before we venture too near to his castle.”

“I didn’t see Ozma in the Magic Picture,” said Trot. “What do you suppose Ugu has done with her?”

“Couldn’t the Little Pink Bear tell us what he did with Ozma?” asked Button-Bright.

“To be sure,” replied the Lavender King; “I’ll ask him.”

So he turned the crank in the Little Pink Bear’s side and inquired:

“Did Ugu the Shoemaker steal Ozma of Oz?”

“Yes,” answered the Little Pink Bear.

“Then what did he do with her?” asked the King.

“Shut her up in a dark place,” answered the Little Pink Bear.

“Oh, that must be a dungeon cell!” cried Dorothy, horrified. “How dreadful!”

“Well, we must get her out of it,” said the Wizard. “That is what we came for and of course we must rescue Ozma. But—how?”

Each one looked at some other one for an answer and all shook their heads in a grave and dismal manner. All but Scraps, who danced around them gleefully.

“You’re afraid,” said the Patchwork Girl, “because so many things can hurt your meat bodies. Why don’t you give it up and go home? How can you fight a great magician when you have nothing to fight with?”

Dorothy looked at her reflectively.

“Scraps,” said she, “you know that Ugu couldn’t hurt you, a bit, whatever he did; nor could he hurt me, ’cause I wear the Nome King’s Magic Belt. S’pose just we two go on together, and leave the others here to wait for us?”

“No, no!” said the Wizard positively. “That won’t do at all. Ozma is more powerful than either of you, yet she could not defeat the wicked Ugu, who has shut her up in a dungeon. We must go to the Shoemaker in one mighty band, for only in union is there strength.”

“That is excellent advice,” said the Lavender Bear, approvingly.

“But what can we do, when we get to Ugu?” inquired the Cookie Cook anxiously.

“Do not expect a prompt answer to that important question,” replied the Wizard, “for we must first plan our line of conduct. Ugu knows, of course, that we are after him, for he has seen our approach in the Magic Picture, and he has read of all we have done up to the present moment in the Great Book of Records. Therefore we cannot expect to take him by surprise.”

“Don’t you suppose Ugu would listen to reason?” asked Betsy. “If we explained to him how wicked he has been, don’t you think he’d let poor Ozma go?”

“And give me back my dishpan?” added the Cookie Cook eagerly.

“Yes, yes; won’t he say he’s sorry and get on his knees and beg our pardon?” cried Scraps, turning a flip-flop to show her scorn of the suggestion. “When Ugu the Shoemaker does that, please knock at the front door and let me know.”

The Wizard sighed and rubbed his bald head with a puzzled air.

“I’m quite sure Ugu will not be polite to us,” said he, “so we must conquer this cruel magician by force, much as we dislike to be rude to anyone. But none of you has yet suggested a way to do that. Couldn’t the Little Pink Bear tell us how?” he asked, turning to the Bear King.

“No, for that is something that is going to happen,” replied the Lavender Bear. “He can only tell us what already has happened.”

Again they were grave and thoughtful. But after a time Betsy said in a hesitating voice:

“Hank is a great fighter; perhaps he could conquer the magician.”

The Mule turned his head to look reproachfully at his old friend, the young girl.

“Who can fight against magic?” he asked.

“The Cowardly Lion could,” said Dorothy.

The Lion, who was lying with his front legs spread out, his chin on his paws, raised his shaggy head.

“I can fight when I’m not afraid,” said he calmly; “but the mere mention of a fight sets me to trembling.”

“Ugu’s magic couldn’t hurt the Sawhorse,” suggested tiny Trot.

“And the Sawhorse couldn’t hurt the Magician,” declared that wooden animal.

“For my part,” said Toto, “I am helpless, having lost my growl.”

“Then,” said Cayke the Cookie Cook, “we must depend upon the Frogman. His marvelous wisdom will surely inform him how to conquer the wicked Magician and restore to me my dishpan.”

All eyes were now turned questioningly upon the Frogman. Finding himself the center of observation, he swung his gold-headed cane, adjusted his big spectacles and after swelling out his chest, sighed and said in a modest tone of voice:

“Respect for truth obliges me to confess that Cayke is mistaken in regard to my superior wisdom. I am not very wise. Neither have I had any practical experience in conquering magicians. But let us consider this case. What is Ugu, and what is a magician? Ugu is a renegade shoemaker and a magician is an ordinary man who, having learned how to do magical tricks, considers himself above his fellows. In this case, the Shoemaker has been naughty enough to steal a lot of magical tools and things that did not belong to him, and it is more wicked to steal than to be a magician. Yet, with all the arts at his command, Ugu is still a man, and surely there are ways in which a man may be conquered. How, do you say, how? Allow me to state that I don’t know. In my judgment we cannot decide how best to act until we get to Ugu’s castle. So let us go to it and take a look at it. After that we may discover an idea that will guide us to victory.”

“That may not be a wise speech, but it sounds good,” said Dorothy approvingly. “Ugu the Shoemaker is not only a common man, but he’s a wicked man and a cruel man and deserves to be conquered. We mustn’t have any mercy on him till Ozma is set free. So let’s go to his castle, as the Frogman says, and see what the place looks like.”

No one offered an objection to this plan and so it was adopted. They broke camp and were about to start on the journey to Ugu’s castle when they discovered that Button-Bright was lost again. The girls and the Wizard shouted his name and the Lion roared and the Donkey brayed and the Frogman croaked and the Big Lavender Bear growled (to the envy of Toto, who couldn’t growl but barked his loudest) yet none of them could make Button-Bright hear. So, after vainly searching for the boy a full hour, they formed a procession and proceeded in the direction of the wicker castle of Ugu the Shoemaker.

“Button-Bright’s always getting lost,” said Dorothy. “And, if he wasn’t always getting found again, I’d prob’ly worry. He may have gone ahead of us, and he may have gone back; but, wherever he is, we’ll find him sometime and somewhere, I’m almost sure.”

Ugu the Shoemaker

A curious thing about Ugu the Shoemaker was that he didn’t suspect, in the least, that he was wicked. He wanted to be powerful and great and he hoped to make himself master of all the Land of Oz, that he might compel everyone in that fairy country to obey him. His ambition blinded him to the rights of others and he imagined anyone else would act just as he did if anyone else happened to be as clever as himself.

When he inhabited his little shoemaking shop in the City of Herku he had been discontented, for a shoemaker is not looked upon with high respect and Ugu knew that his ancestors had been famous magicians for many centuries past and therefore his family was above the ordinary. Even his father practiced magic, when Ugu was a boy; but his father had wandered away from Herku and had never come back again. So, when Ugu grew up, he was forced to make shoes for a living, knowing nothing of the magic of his forefathers. But one day, in searching through the attic of his house, he discovered all the books of magical recipes and many magical instruments which had formerly been in use in his family. From that day he stopped making shoes and began to study magic. Finally he aspired to become the greatest magician in Oz, and for days and weeks and months he thought on a plan to render all the other sorcerers and wizards, as well as those with fairy powers, helpless to oppose him.

From the books of his ancestors he learned the following facts:

(1) That Ozma of Oz was the fairy ruler of the Emerald City and the Land of Oz, and that she could not be destroyed by any magic ever devised. Also, by means of her Magic Picture she would be able to discover anyone who approached her royal palace with the idea of conquering it.

(2) That Glinda the Good was the most powerful Sorceress in Oz, among her other magical possessions being the Great Book of Records, which told her all that happened anywhere in the world. This Book of Records was very dangerous to Ugu’s plans and Glinda was in the service of Ozma and would use her arts of sorcery to protect the girl Ruler.

(3) That the Wizard of Oz, who lived in Ozma’s palace, had been taught much powerful magic by Glinda and had a bag of magic tools with which he might be able to conquer the Shoemaker.

(4) That there existed in Oz—in the Yip Country—a jeweled dishpan made of gold, which dishpan possessed marvelous powers of magic. At a magic word, which Ugu learned from the book, the dishpan would grow large enough for a man to sit inside it. Then, when he grasped both the golden handles, the dishpan would transport him in an instant to any place he wished to go within the borders of the Land of Oz.

No one now living, except Ugu, knew of the powers of this Magic Dishpan; so, after long study, the shoemaker decided that if he could manage to secure the dishpan he could, by its means, rob Ozma and Glinda and the Wizard of Oz of all their magic, thus becoming himself the most powerful person in all the land.

His first act was to go away from the City of Herku and build for himself the Wicker Castle in the hills. Here he carried his books and instruments of magic and here for a full year he diligently practiced all the magical arts learned from his ancestors. At the end of that time he could do a good many wonderful things.

Then, when all his preparations were made, he set out for the Yip Country and climbing the steep mountain at night he entered the house of Cayke the Cookie Cook and stole her diamond-studded gold dishpan while all the Yips were asleep. Taking his prize outside, he set the pan upon the ground and uttered the required magic word. Instantly the dishpan grew as large as a big washtub and Ugu seated himself in it and grasped the two handles. Then he wished himself in the great drawing-room of Glinda the Good.

He was there in a flash. First he took the Great Book of Records and put it in the dishpan. Then he went to Glinda’s laboratory and took all her rare chemical compounds and her instruments of sorcery, placing these also in the dishpan, which he caused to grow large enough to hold them. Next he seated himself amongst the treasures he had stolen and wished himself in the room in Ozma’s palace which the Wizard occupied and where he kept his bag of magic tools. This bag Ugu added to his plunder and then wished himself in the apartments of Ozma.

Here he first took the Magic Picture from the wall and then seized all the other magical things which Ozma possessed. Having placed these in the dishpan he was about to climb in himself when he looked up and saw Ozma standing beside him. Her fairy instinct had warned her that danger was threatening her, so the beautiful girl Ruler rose from her couch and leaving her bedchamber at once confronted the thief.

Ugu had to think quickly, for he realized that if he permitted Ozma to rouse the inmates of her palace all his plans and his present successes were likely to come to naught.

So he threw a scarf over the girl’s head, so she could not scream, and pushed her into the dishpan and tied her fast, so she could not move. Then he climbed in beside her and wished himself in his own wicker castle. The Magic Dishpan was there in an instant, with all its contents, and Ugu rubbed his hands together in triumphant joy as he realized that he now possessed all the important magic in the Land of Oz and could force all the inhabitants of that fairyland to do as he willed.

So quickly had his journey been accomplished that before daylight the robber magician had locked Ozma in a room, making her a prisoner, and had unpacked and arranged all his stolen goods. The next day he placed the Book of Records on his table and hung the Magic Picture on his wall and put away in his cupboards and drawers all the elixirs and magic compounds he had stolen. The magical instruments he polished and arranged, and this was fascinating work and made him very happy. The only thing that bothered him was Ozma. By turns the imprisoned Ruler wept and scolded the Shoemaker, haughtily threatening him with dire punishment for the wicked deeds he had done. Ugu became somewhat afraid of his fairy prisoner, in spite of the fact that he believed he had robbed her of all her powers; so he performed an enchantment that quickly disposed of her and placed her out of his sight and hearing. After that, being occupied with other things, he soon forgot her.

But now, when he looked into the Magic Picture and read the Great Book of Records, the Shoemaker learned that his wickedness was not to go unchallenged. Two important expeditions had set out to find him and force him to give up his stolen property. One was the party headed by the Wizard and Dorothy, while the other consisted of Cayke and the Frogman. Others were also searching, but not in the right places. These two groups, however, were headed straight for the wicker castle and so Ugu began to plan how best to meet them and to defeat their efforts to conquer him.

More Surprises

All that first day after the union of the two parties our friends marched steadily toward the wicker castle of Ugu the Shoemaker. When night came they camped in a little grove and passed a pleasant evening together, although some of them were worried because Button-Bright was still lost.

“Perhaps,” said Toto, as the animals lay grouped together for the night, “this Shoemaker who stole my growl, and who stole Ozma, has also stolen Button-Bright.”

“How do you know that the Shoemaker stole your growl?” demanded the Woozy.

“He has stolen about everything else of value in Oz, hasn’t he?” replied the dog.

“He has stolen everything he wants, perhaps,” agreed the Lion; “but what could anyone want with your growl?”

“Well,” said the dog, wagging his tail slowly, “my recollection is that it was a wonderful growl, soft and low and—and—”

“And ragged at the edges,” said the Sawhorse.

“So,” continued Toto, “if that magician hadn’t any growl of his own, he might have wanted mine and stolen it.”

“And, if he has, he will soon wish he hadn’t,” remarked the Mule. “Also, if he has stolen Button-Bright he will be sorry.”

“Don’t you like Button-Bright, then?” asked the Lion in surprise.

“It isn’t a question of liking him,” replied the Mule. “It’s a question of watching him and looking after him. Any boy who causes his friends so much worry isn’t worth having around. I never get lost.”

“If you did,” said Toto, “no one would worry a bit. I think Button-Bright is a very lucky boy, because he always gets found.”

“See here,” said the Lion, “this chatter is keeping us all awake and tomorrow is likely to be a busy day. Go to sleep and forget your quarrels.”

“Friend Lion,” retorted the dog, “if I hadn’t lost my growl you would hear it now. I have as much right to talk as you have to sleep.”

The Lion sighed.

“If only you had lost your voice, when you lost your growl,” said he, “you would be a more agreeable companion.”

But they quieted down, after that, and soon the entire camp was wrapped in slumber.

Next morning they made an early start but had hardly proceeded on their way an hour when, on climbing a slight elevation, they beheld in the distance a low mountain, on top of which stood Ugu’s wicker castle. It was a good-sized building and rather pretty because the sides, roofs and domes were all of wicker closely woven, as it is in fine baskets.

“I wonder if it is strong?” said Dorothy musingly, as she eyed the queer castle.

“I suppose it is, since a magician built it,” answered the Wizard. “With magic to protect it, even a paper castle might be as strong as if made of stone. This Ugu must be a man of ideas, because he does things in a different way from other people.”

“Yes; no one else would steal our dear Ozma,” sighed tiny Trot.

“I wonder if Ozma is there?” said Betsy, indicating the castle with a nod of her head.

“Where else could she be?” asked Scraps.

“S’pose we ask the Pink Bear,” suggested Dorothy.

That seemed a good idea, so they halted the procession and the Bear King held the little Pink Bear on his lap and turned the crank in its side and asked:

“Where is Ozma of Oz?”

And the little Pink Bear answered:

“She is in a hole in the ground, a half mile away, at your left.”

“Good gracious!” cried Dorothy. “Then she is not in Ugu’s castle at all.”

“It is lucky we asked that question,” said the Wizard; “for, if we can find Ozma and rescue her, there will be no need for us to fight that wicked and dangerous magician.”

“Indeed!” said Cayke. “Then what about my dishpan?”

The Wizard looked puzzled at her tone of remonstrance, so she added:

“Didn’t you people from the Emerald City promise that we would all stick together, and that you would help me to get my dishpan if I would help you to get your Ozma? And didn’t I bring to you the little Pink Bear, which has told you where Ozma is hidden?”

“She’s right,” said Dorothy to the Wizard. “We must do as we agreed.”

“Well, first of all, let us go and rescue Ozma,” proposed the Wizard. “Then our beloved Ruler may be able to advise us how to conquer Ugu the Shoemaker.”

So they turned to the left and marched for half a mile until they came to a small but deep hole in the ground. At once all rushed to the brim to peer into the hole, but instead of finding there Princess Ozma of Oz, all that they saw was Button-Bright, who was lying asleep on the bottom.

Their cries soon wakened the boy, who sat up and rubbed his eyes. When he recognized his friends he smiled sweetly, saying: “Found again!”

“Where is Ozma?” inquired Dorothy anxiously.

“I don’t know,” answered Button-Bright from the depths of the hole. “I got lost, yesterday, as you may remember, and in the night, while I was wandering around in the moonlight, trying to find my way back to you, I suddenly fell into this hole.”

“And wasn’t Ozma in it then?”

“There was no one in it but me, and I was sorry it wasn’t entirely empty. The sides are so steep I can’t climb out, so there was nothing to be done but sleep until someone found me. Thank you for coming. If you’ll please let down a rope I’ll empty this hole in a hurry.”

“How strange!” said Dorothy, greatly disappointed. “It’s evident the Pink Bear didn’t tell us the truth.”

“He never makes a mistake,” declared the Lavender Bear King, in a tone that showed his feelings were hurt. And then he turned the crank of the little Pink Bear again and asked: “Is this the hole that Ozma of Oz is in?”

“Yes,” answered the Pink Bear.

“That settles it,” said the King, positively. “Your Ozma is in this hole in the ground.”

“Don’t be silly,” returned Dorothy impatiently. “Even your beady eyes can see there is no one in the hole but Button-Bright.”

“Perhaps Button-Bright is Ozma,” suggested the King.

“And perhaps he isn’t! Ozma is a girl, and Button-Bright is a boy.”

“Your Pink Bear must be out of order,” said the Wizard; “for, this time at least, his machinery has caused him to make an untrue statement.”

The Bear King was so angry at this remark that he turned away, holding the Pink Bear in his paws, and refused to discuss the matter in any further way.

“At any rate,” said the Frogman, “the Pink Bear has led us to your boy friend and so enabled you to rescue him.”

Scraps was leaning so far over the hole, trying to find Ozma in it, that suddenly she lost her balance and pitched in headforemost. She fell upon Button-Bright and tumbled him over, but he was not hurt by her soft stuffed body and only laughed at the mishap. The Wizard buckled some straps together and let one end of them down into the hole, and soon both Scraps and the boy had climbed up and were standing safely beside the others.

They looked once more for Ozma, but the hole was now absolutely vacant. It was a round hole, so from the top they could plainly see every part of it. Before they left the place Dorothy went to the Bear King and said:

“I’m sorry we couldn’t believe what the little Pink Bear said, ’cause we don’t want to make you feel bad by doubting him. There must be a mistake, somewhere, and we prob’ly don’t understand just what the little Pink Bear means. Will you let me ask him one more question?”

The Lavender Bear King was a good-natured bear, considering how he was made and stuffed and jointed, so he accepted Dorothy’s apology and turned the crank and allowed the little girl to question his wee Pink Bear.

“Is Ozma really in this hole?” asked Dorothy.

“No,” said the little Pink Bear.

This surprised everybody. Even the Bear King was now puzzled by the contradictory statements of his oracle.

“Where is she?” asked the King.

“Here, among you,” answered the little Pink Bear.

“Well,” said Dorothy, “this beats me, entirely! I guess the little Pink Bear has gone crazy.”

“Perhaps,” called Scraps, who was rapidly turning “cart-wheels” all around the perplexed group, “Ozma is invisible.”

“Of course!” cried Betsy. “That would account for it.”

“Well, I’ve noticed that people can speak, even when they’ve been made invisible,” said the Wizard. And then he looked all around him and said in a solemn voice: “Ozma, are you here?”

There was no reply. Dorothy asked the question, too, and so did Button-Bright and Trot and Betsy; but none received any reply at all.

“It’s strange—it’s terrible strange!” muttered Cayke the Cookie Cook. “I was sure that the little Pink Bear always tells the truth.”

“I still believe in his honesty,” said the Frogman, and this tribute so pleased the Bear King that he gave these last speakers grateful looks, but still gazed sourly on the others.

“Come to think of it,” remarked the Wizard, “Ozma couldn’t be invisible, for she is a fairy and fairies cannot be made invisible against their will. Of course she could be imprisoned by the magician, or even enchanted, or transformed, in spite of her fairy powers; but Ugu could not render her invisible by any magic at his command.”

“I wonder if she’s been transformed into Button-Bright?” said Dorothy nervously. Then she looked steadily at the boy and asked: “Are you Ozma? Tell me truly!”

Button-Bright laughed.

“You’re getting rattled, Dorothy,” he replied. “Nothing ever enchants me. If I were Ozma, do you think I’d have tumbled into that hole?”

“Anyhow,” said the Wizard, “Ozma would never try to deceive her friends, or prevent them from recognizing her, in whatever form she happened to be. The puzzle is still a puzzle, so let us go on to the wicker castle and question the magician himself. Since it was he who stole our Ozma, Ugu is the one who must tell us where to find her.”

Magic Against Magic

The Wizard’s advice was good, so again they started in the direction of the low mountain on the crest of which the wicker castle had been built. They had been gradually advancing up hill, so now the elevation seemed to them more like a round knoll than a mountain-top. However, the sides of the knoll were sloping and covered with green grass, so there was a stiff climb before them yet.

Undaunted, they plodded on and had almost reached the knoll when they suddenly observed that it was surrounded by a circle of flame. At first the flames barely rose above the ground, but presently they grew higher and higher until a circle of flaming tongues of fire taller than any of their heads quite surrounded the hill on which the wicker castle stood. When they approached the flames the heat was so intense that it drove them back again.

“This will never do for me!” exclaimed the Patchwork Girl. “I catch fire very easily.”

“It won’t do for me, either,” grumbled the Sawhorse, prancing to the rear.

“I also object strongly to fire,” said the Bear King, following the Sawhorse to a safe distance and hugging the little Pink Bear with his paws.

“I suppose the foolish Shoemaker imagines these blazes will stop us,” remarked the Wizard, with a smile of scorn for Ugu. “But I am able to inform you that this is merely a simple magic trick which the robber stole from Glinda the Good, and by good fortune I know how to destroy these flames, as well as how to produce them. Will some one of you kindly give me a match?”

You may be sure the girls carried no matches, nor did the Frogman or Cayke or any of the animals. But Button-Bright, after searching carefully through his pockets, which contained all sorts of useful and useless things, finally produced a match and handed it to the Wizard, who tied it to the end of a branch which he tore from a small tree growing near them. Then the little Wizard carefully lighted the match and running forward thrust it into the nearest flame. Instantly the circle of fire began to die away and soon vanished completely, leaving the way clear for them to proceed.

“That was funny!” laughed Button-Bright.

“Yes,” agreed the Wizard, “it seems odd that a little match could destroy such a great circle of fire, but when Glinda invented this trick she believed no one would ever think of a match being a remedy for fire. I suppose even Ugu doesn’t know how we managed to quench the flames of his barrier, for only Glinda and I know the secret. Glinda’s Book of Magic, which Ugu stole, told how to make the flames, but not how to put them out.”

They now formed in marching order and proceeded to advance up the slope of the hill; but had not gone far when before them rose a wall of steel, the surface of which was thickly covered with sharp, gleaming points resembling daggers. The wall completely surrounded the wicker castle and its sharp points prevented anyone from climbing it. Even the Patchwork Girl might be ripped to pieces if she dared attempt it.

“Ah!” exclaimed the Wizard cheerfully, “Ugu is now using one of my own tricks against me. But this is more serious than the Barrier of Fire, because the only way to destroy the wall is to get on the other side of it.”

“How can that be done?” asked Dorothy.

The Wizard looked thoughtfully around his little party and his face grew troubled.

“It’s a pretty high wall,” he sadly remarked. “I’m pretty sure the Cowardly Lion could not leap over it.”

“I’m sure of that, too!” said the Lion with a shudder of fear. “If I foolishly tried such a leap I would be caught on those dreadful spikes.”

“I think I could do it, sir,” said the Frogman, with a bow to the Wizard. “It is an up-hill jump, as well as being a high jump, but I’m considered something of a jumper by my friends in the Yip Country and I believe a good strong leap will carry me to the other side.”

“I’m sure it would,” agreed the Cookie Cook.

“Leaping, you know, is a froglike accomplishment,” continued the Frogman, modestly, “but please tell me what I am to do when I reach the other side of the wall.”

“You’re a brave creature,” said the Wizard, admiringly. “Has anyone a pin?”

Betsy had one, which she gave him.

“All you need do,” said the Wizard to the Frogman, giving him the pin, “is to stick this into the other side of the wall.”

“But the wall is of steel!” exclaimed the big frog.

“I know; at least, it seems to be steel; but do as I tell you. Stick the pin into the wall and it will disappear.”

The Frogman took off his handsome coat and carefully folded it and laid it on the grass. Then he removed his hat and laid it, together with his gold-headed cane, beside the coat. He then went back a way and made three powerful leaps, in rapid succession. The first two leaps took him to the wall and the third leap carried him well over it, to the amazement of all. For a short time he disappeared from their view, but when he had obeyed the Wizard’s injunction and had thrust the pin into the wall, the huge barrier vanished and showed them the form of the Frogman, who now went to where his coat lay and put it on again.

“We thank you very much,” said the delighted Wizard. “That was the most wonderful leap I ever saw and it has saved us from defeat by our enemy. Let us now hurry on to the castle before Ugu the Shoemaker thinks of some other means to stop us.”

“We must have surprised him, so far,” declared Dorothy.

“Yes, indeed. The fellow knows a lot of magic—all of our tricks and some of his own,” replied the Wizard. “So, if he is half as clever as he ought to be, we shall have trouble with him yet.”

He had scarcely spoken these words when out from the gates of the wicker castle marched a regiment of soldiers, clad in gay uniforms and all bearing long, pointed spears and sharp battle-axes. These soldiers were girls, and the uniforms were short skirts of yellow and black satin, golden shoes, bands of gold across their foreheads and necklaces of glittering jewels. Their jackets were scarlet, braided with silver cords. There were hundreds of these girl-soldiers, and they were more terrible than beautiful, being strong and fierce in appearance. They formed a circle all around the castle and faced outward, their spears pointed toward the invaders and their battle-axes held over their shoulders, ready to strike.

Of course our friends halted at once, for they had not expected this dreadful array of soldiery. The Wizard seemed puzzled and his companions exchanged discouraged looks.

“I’d no idea Ugu had such an army as that,” said Dorothy. “The castle doesn’t look big enough to hold them all.”

“It isn’t,” declared the Wizard.

“But they all marched out of it.”

“They seemed to; but I don’t believe it is a real army at all. If Ugu the Shoemaker had so many people living with him, I’m sure the Czarover of Herku would have mentioned the fact to us.”

“They’re only girls!” laughed Scraps.

“Girls are the fiercest soldiers of all,” declared the Frogman. “They are more brave than men and they have better nerves. That is probably why the magician uses them for soldiers and has sent them to oppose us.”

No one argued this statement, for all were staring hard at the line of soldiers, which now, having taken a defiant position, remained motionless.

“Here is a trick of magic new to me,” admitted the Wizard, after a time. “I do not believe the army is real, but the spears may be sharp enough to prick us, nevertheless, so we must be cautious. Let us take time to consider how to meet this difficulty.”

While they were thinking it over Scraps danced closer to the line of girl soldiers. Her button eyes sometimes saw more than did the natural eyes of her comrades and so, after staring hard at the magician’s army, she boldly advanced and danced right through the threatening line! On the other side she waved her stuffed arms and called out:

“Come on, folks. The spears can’t hurt you.”

“Ah!” said the Wizard, gayly, “an optical illusion, as I thought. Let us all follow the Patchwork Girl.”

The three little girls were somewhat nervous in attempting to brave the spears and battle-axes, but after the others had safely passed the line they ventured to follow. And, when all had passed through the ranks of the girl army, the army itself magically disappeared from view.

All this time our friends had been getting farther up the hill and nearer to the wicker castle. Now, continuing their advance, they expected something else to oppose their way, but to their astonishment nothing happened and presently they arrived at the wicker gates, which stood wide open, and boldly entered the domain of Ugu the Shoemaker.

In the Wicker Castle

No sooner were the Wizard of Oz and his followers well within the castle entrance when the big gates swung to with a clang and heavy bars dropped across them. They looked at one another uneasily, but no one cared to speak of the incident. If they were indeed prisoners in the wicker castle it was evident they must find a way to escape, but their first duty was to attend to the errand on which they had come and seek the Royal Ozma, whom they believed to be a prisoner of the magician, and rescue her.

They found they had entered a square courtyard, from which an entrance led into the main building of the castle. No person had appeared to greet them, so far, although a gaudy peacock, perched upon the wall, cackled with laughter and said in its sharp, shrill voice: “Poor fools! Poor fools!”

“I hope the peacock is mistaken,” remarked the Frogman, but no one else paid any attention to the bird. They were a little awed by the stillness and loneliness of the place.

As they entered the doors of the castle, which stood invitingly open, these also closed behind them and huge bolts shot into place. The animals had all accompanied the party into the castle, because they felt it would be dangerous for them to separate. They were forced to follow a zigzag passage, turning this way and that, until finally they entered a great central hall, circular in form and with a high dome from which was suspended an enormous chandelier.

The Wizard went first, and Dorothy, Betsy and Trot followed him, Toto keeping at the heels of his little mistress. Then came the Lion, the Woozy and the Sawhorse; then Cayke the Cookie Cook and Button-Bright; then the Lavender Bear carrying the Pink Bear, and finally the Frogman and the Patchwork Girl, with Hank the Mule tagging behind. So it was the Wizard who caught the first glimpse of the big domed hall, but the others quickly followed and gathered in a wondering group just within the entrance.

Upon a raised platform at one side was a heavy table on which lay Glinda’s Great Book of Records; but the platform was firmly fastened to the floor and the table was fastened to the platform and the Book was chained fast to the table—just as it had been when it was kept in Glinda’s palace. On the wall over the table hung Ozma’s Magic Picture. On a row of shelves at the opposite side of the hall stood all the chemicals and essences of magic and all the magical instruments that had been stolen from Glinda and Ozma and the Wizard, with glass doors covering the shelves so that no one could get at them.

And in a far corner sat Ugu the Shoemaker, his feet lazily extended, his skinny hands clasped behind his head. He was leaning back at his ease and calmly smoking a long pipe. Around the magician was a sort of cage, seemingly made of golden bars set wide apart, and at his feet—also within the cage—reposed the long-sought diamond-studded dishpan of Cayke the Cookie Cook.

Princess Ozma of Oz was nowhere to be seen.

“Well, well,” said Ugu, when the invaders had stood in silence for a moment, staring about them, “this visit is an expected pleasure, I assure you. I knew you were coming and I know why you are here. You are not welcome, for I cannot use any of you to my advantage, but as you have insisted on coming I hope you will make the afternoon call as brief as possible. It won’t take long to transact your business with me. You will ask me for Ozma, and my reply will be that you may find her—if you can.”

“Sir,” answered the Wizard, in a tone of rebuke, “you are a very wicked and cruel person. I suppose you imagine, because you have stolen this poor woman’s dishpan and all the best magic in Oz, that you are more powerful than we are and will be able to triumph over us.”

“Yes,” said Ugu the Shoemaker, slowly filling his pipe with fresh tobacco from a silver bowl that stood beside him, “that is exactly what I imagine. It will do you no good to demand from me the girl who was formerly the Ruler of Oz, because I will not tell you where I have hidden her—and you can’t guess in a thousand years. Neither will I restore to you any of the magic I have captured. I am not so foolish. But bear this in mind: I mean to be the Ruler of Oz myself, hereafter, so I advise you to be careful how you address your future Monarch.”

“Ozma is still Ruler of Oz, wherever you may have hidden her,” declared the Wizard. “And bear this in mind, miserable Shoemaker: We intend to find her and to rescue her, in time, but our first duty and pleasure will be to conquer you and then punish you for your misdeeds.”

“Very well; go ahead and conquer,” said Ugu. “I’d really like to see how you can do it.”

Now, although the little Wizard had spoken so boldly, he had at the moment no idea how they might conquer the magician. He had that morning given the Frogman, at his request, a dose of zosozo from his bottle, and the Frogman had promised to fight a good fight if it was necessary; but the Wizard knew that strength alone could not avail against magical arts. The toy Bear King seemed to have some pretty good magic, however, and the Wizard depended to an extent on that. But something ought to be done right away, and the Wizard didn’t know what it was.

While he considered this perplexing question and the others stood looking at him as their leader, a queer thing happened. The floor of the great circular hall, on which they were standing, suddenly began to tip. Instead of being flat and level it became a slant, and the slant grew steeper and steeper until none of the party could manage to stand upon it.

Presently they all slid down to the wall, which was now under them, and then it became evident that the whole vast room was slowly turning upside down! Only Ugu the Shoemaker, kept in place by the bars of his golden cage, remained in his former position, and the wicked magician seemed to enjoy the surprise of his victims immensely.

First, they all slid down to the wall back of them, but as the room continued to turn over they next slid down the wall and found themselves at the bottom of the great dome, bumping against the big chandelier which, like everything else, was now upside-down.

The turning movement now stopped and the room became stationary. Looking far up, they saw Ugu suspended in his cage at the very top, which had once been the floor.

“Ah,” said he, grinning down at them, “the way to conquer is to act, and he who acts promptly is sure to win. This makes a very good prison, from which I am sure you cannot escape. Please amuse yourselves in any way you like, but I must beg you to excuse me, as I have business in another part of my castle.”

Saying this, he opened a trap door in the floor of his cage (which was now over his head) and climbed through it and disappeared from their view. The diamond dishpan still remained in the cage, but the bars kept it from falling down on their heads.

“Well, I declare!” said the Patchwork Girl, seizing one of the bars of the chandelier and swinging from it, “we must peg one for the Shoemaker, for he has trapped us very cleverly.”

“Get off my foot, please,” said the Lion to the Sawhorse.

“And oblige me, Mr. Mule,” remarked the Woozy, “by taking your tail out of my left eye.”

“It’s rather crowded down here,” explained Dorothy, “because the dome is rounding and we have all slid into the middle of it. But let us keep as quiet as possible until we can think what’s best to be done.”

“Dear, dear!” wailed Cayke; “I wish I had my darling dishpan,” and she held her arms longingly toward it.

“I wish I had the magic on those shelves up there,” sighed the Wizard.

“Don’t you s’pose we could get to it?” asked Trot anxiously.

“We’d have to fly,” laughed the Patchwork Girl.

But the Wizard took the suggestion seriously, and so did the Frogman. They talked it over and soon planned an attempt to reach the shelves where the magical instruments were. First the Frogman lay against the rounding dome and braced his foot on the stem of the chandelier; then the Wizard climbed over him and lay on the dome with his feet on the Frogman’s shoulders; the Cookie Cook came next; then Button-Bright climbed to the woman’s shoulders; then Dorothy climbed up, and Betsy and Trot, and finally the Patchwork Girl, and all their lengths made a long line that reached far up the dome but not far enough for Scraps to touch the shelves.

“Wait a minute; perhaps I can reach the magic,” called the Bear King, and began scrambling up the bodies of the others. But when he came to the Cookie Cook his soft paws tickled her side so that she squirmed and upset the whole line. Down they came, tumbling in a heap against the animals, and although no one was much hurt it was a bad mix-up and the Frogman, who was at the bottom, almost lost his temper before he could get on his feet again.

Cayke positively refused to try what she called “the pyramid act” again, and as the Wizard was now convinced they could not reach the magic tools in that manner the attempt was abandoned.

“But something must be done,” said the Wizard, and then he turned to the Lavender Bear and asked: “Cannot Your Majesty’s magic help us to escape from here?”

“My magic powers are limited,” was the reply. “When I was stuffed, the fairies stood by and slyly dropped some magic into my stuffing. Therefore I can do any of the magic that’s inside me, but nothing else. You, however, are a wizard, and a wizard should be able to do anything.”

“Your Majesty forgets that my tools of magic have been stolen,” said the Wizard sadly, “and a wizard without tools is as helpless as a carpenter without a hammer or saw.”

“Don’t give up,” pleaded Button-Bright, “’cause if we can’t get out of this queer prison we’ll all starve to death.”

“Not I!” laughed the Patchwork Girl, now standing on top the chandelier, at the place that was meant to be the bottom of it.

“Don’t talk of such dreadful things,” said Trot, shuddering. “We came here to capture the Shoemaker, didn’t we?”

“And here we are, captured ourselves, and my darling dishpan up there in plain sight!” wailed the Cookie Cook, wiping her eyes on the tail of the Frogman’s coat.

“Hush!” called the Lion, with a low, deep growl. “Give the Wizard time to think.”

“He has plenty of time,” said Scraps. “What he needs is the Scarecrow’s brains.”

After all, it was little Dorothy who came to their rescue, and her ability to save them was almost as much a surprise to the girl as it was to her friends. Dorothy had been secretly testing the powers of her Magic Belt, which she had once captured from the Nome King, and experimenting with it in various ways, ever since she had started on this eventful journey. At different times she had stolen away from the others of her party and in solitude had tried to find out what the Magic Belt could do and what it could not do. There were a lot of things it could not do, she discovered, but she learned some things about the Belt which even her girl friends did not suspect she knew.

For one thing, she had remembered that when the Nome King owned it the Magic Belt used to perform transformations, and by thinking hard she had finally recalled the way in which such transformations had been accomplished. Better than this, however, was the discovery that the Magic Belt would grant its wearer one wish a day. All she need do was close her right eye and wiggle her left toe and then draw a long breath and make her wish. Yesterday she had wished in secret for a box of caramels, and instantly found the box beside her. Today she had saved her daily wish, in case she might need it in an emergency, and the time had now come when she must use the wish to enable her to escape with her friends from the prison in which Ugu had caught them.

So, without telling anyone what she intended to do—for she had only used the wish once and could not be certain how powerful the Magic Belt might be—Dorothy closed her right eye and wiggled her left big toe and drew a long breath and wished with all her might. The next moment the room began to revolve again, as slowly as before, and by degrees they all slid to the side wall and down the wall to the floor—all but Scraps, who was so astonished that she still clung to the chandelier. When the big hall was in its proper position again and the others stood firmly upon the floor of it, they looked far up to the dome and saw the Patchwork Girl swinging from the chandelier.

“Good gracious!” cried Dorothy. “How ever will you get down?”

“Won’t the room keep turning?” asked Scraps.

“I hope not. I believe it has stopped for good,” said Princess Dorothy.

“Then stand from under, so you won’t get hurt!” shouted the Patchwork Girl, and as soon as they had obeyed this request she let go the chandelier and came tumbling down heels over head and twisting and turning in a very exciting manner. Plump! she fell on the tiled floor and they ran to her and rolled her and patted her into shape again.

The Defiance of
Ugu the Shoemaker

The delay caused by Scraps had prevented anyone from running to the shelves to secure the magic instruments so badly needed. Even Cayke neglected to get her diamond-studded dishpan because she was watching the Patchwork Girl. And now the magician had opened his trap door and appeared in his golden cage again, frowning angrily because his prisoners had been able to turn their upside-down prison right-side-up.

“Which of you has dared defy my magic?” he shouted in a terrible voice.

“It was I,” answered Dorothy calmly.

“Then I shall destroy you, for you are only an Earth girl and no fairy,” he said, and began to mumble some magic words.

Dorothy now realized that Ugu must be treated as an enemy, so she advanced toward the corner in which he sat, saying as she went:

“I am not afraid of you, Mr. Shoemaker, and I think you’ll be sorry, pretty soon, that you’re such a bad man. You can’t destroy me and I won’t destroy you, but I’m going to punish you for your wickedness.”

Ugu laughed a laugh that was not nice to hear, and then he waved his hand. Dorothy was halfway across the room when suddenly a wall of glass rose before her and stopped her progress. Through the glass she could see the magician sneering at her because she was a weak little girl, and this provoked her. Although the glass wall obliged her to halt she instantly pressed both hands to her Magic Belt and cried in a loud voice:

“Ugu the Shoemaker, by the magic virtues of the Magic Belt, I command you to become a dove!”

The magician instantly realized he was being enchanted, for he could feel his form changing. He struggled desperately against the enchantment, mumbling magic words and making magic passes with his hands. And in one way he succeeded in defeating Dorothy’s purpose, for while his form soon changed to that of a gray dove, the dove was of an enormous size—bigger even than Ugu had been as a man—and this feat he had been able to accomplish before his powers of magic wholly deserted him.

And the dove was not gentle, as doves usually are, for Ugu was terribly enraged at the little girl’s success. His books had told him nothing of the Nome King’s Magic Belt, the Country of the Nomes being outside the Land of Oz. He knew, however, that he was likely to be conquered unless he made a fierce fight, so he spread his wings and rose in the air and flew directly toward Dorothy. The Wall of Glass had disappeared the instant Ugu became transformed.

Dorothy had meant to command the Belt to transform the magician into a Dove of Peace, but in her excitement she forgot to say more than “dove,” and now Ugu was not a Dove of Peace by any means, but rather a spiteful Dove of War. His size made his sharp beak and claws very dangerous, but Dorothy was not afraid when he came darting toward her with his talons outstretched and his sword-like beak open.

She knew the Magic Belt would protect its wearer from harm.

But the Frogman did not know that fact and became alarmed at the little girl’s seeming danger. So he gave a sudden leap and leaped full upon the back of the great dove.

Then began a desperate struggle. The dove was as strong as Ugu had been, and in size it was considerably bigger than the Frogman. But the Frogman had eaten the zosozo and it had made him fully as strong as Ugu the Dove. At the first leap he bore the dove to the floor, but the giant bird got free and began to bite and claw the Frogman, beating him down with its great wings whenever he attempted to rise. The thick, tough skin of the big frog was not easily damaged, but Dorothy feared for her champion and by again using the transformation power of the Magic Belt she made the dove grow small, until it was no larger than a canary bird.

Ugu had not lost his knowledge of magic when he lost his shape as a man, and he now realized it was hopeless to oppose the power of the Magic Belt and knew that his only hope of escape lay in instant action. So he quickly flew into the golden jeweled dishpan he had stolen from Cayke the Cookie Cook and, as birds can talk as well as beasts or men in the Fairyland of Oz, he muttered the magic word that was required and wished himself in the Country of the Quadlings—which was as far away from the wicker castle as he believed he could get.

Our friends did not know, of course, what Ugu was about to do. They saw the dishpan tremble an instant and then disappear, the dove disappearing with it, and although they waited expectantly for some minutes for the magician’s return, Ugu did not come back again.

“Seems to me,” said the Wizard in a cheerful voice, “that we have conquered the wicked magician more quickly than we expected to.”

“Don’t say ‘we’—Dorothy did it!” cried the Patchwork Girl, turning three somersaults in succession and then walking around on her hands. “Hurrah for Dorothy!”

“I thought you said you did not know how to use the magic of the Nome King’s Belt,” said the Wizard to Dorothy.

“I didn’t know, at that time,” she replied, “but afterward I remembered how the Nome King once used the Magic Belt to enchant people and transform ’em into ornaments and all sorts of things; so I tried some enchantments in secret and after awhile I transformed the Sawhorse into a potato-masher and back again, and the Cowardly Lion into a pussycat and back again, and then I knew the thing would work all right.”

“When did you perform those enchantments?” asked the Wizard, much surprised.

“One night when all the rest of you were asleep but Scraps, and she had gone chasing moonbeams.”

“Well,” remarked the Wizard, “your discovery has certainly saved us a lot of trouble, and we must all thank the Frogman, too, for making such a good fight. The dove’s shape had Ugu’s evil disposition inside it, and that made the monster bird dangerous.”

The Frogman was looking sad because the bird’s talons had torn his pretty clothes, but he bowed with much dignity at this well-deserved praise. Cayke, however, had squatted on the floor and was sobbing bitterly.

“My precious dishpan is gone!” she wailed. “Gone, just as I had found it again!”

“Never mind,” said Trot, trying to comfort her, “it’s sure to be somewhere, so we’ll cert’nly run across it someday.”

“Yes, indeed,” added Betsy; “now that we have Ozma’s Magic Picture, we can tell just where the Dove went with your dishpan.”

They all approached the Magic Picture, and Dorothy wished it to show the enchanted form of Ugu the Shoemaker, wherever it might be. At once there appeared in the frame of the Picture a scene in the far Quadling Country, where the Dove was perched disconsolately on the limb of a tree and the jeweled dishpan lay on the ground just underneath the limb.

“But where is the place—how far or how near?” asked Cayke anxiously.

“The Book of Records will tell us that,” answered the Wizard. So they looked in the Great Book and read the following:

“Ugu the Magician, being transformed into a dove by Princess Dorothy of Oz, has used the magic of the golden dishpan to carry him instantly to the northeast corner of the Quadling Country.”

“That’s all right,” said Dorothy. “Don’t worry, Cayke, for the Scarecrow and the Tin Woodman are in that part of the country, looking for Ozma, and they’ll surely find your dishpan.”

“Good gracious!” exclaimed Button-Bright, “we’ve forgot all about Ozma. Let’s find out where the magician hid her.”

Back to the Magic Picture they trooped, but when they wished to see Ozma, wherever she might be hidden, only a round black spot appeared in the center of the canvas.

“I don’t see how that can be Ozma!” said Dorothy, much puzzled.

“It seems to be the best the Magic Picture can do, however,” said the Wizard, no less surprised. “If it’s an enchantment, it looks as if the magician had transformed Ozma into a chunk of pitch.”

The Little Pink Bear
Speaks Truly

For several minutes they all stood staring at the black spot on the canvas of the Magic Picture, wondering what it could mean.

“P’r’aps we’d better ask the little Pink Bear about Ozma,” suggested Trot.

“Pshaw!” said Button-Bright, “he don’t know anything.”

“He never makes a mistake,” declared the King.

“He did once, surely,” said Betsy. “But perhaps he wouldn’t make a mistake again.”

“He won’t have the chance,” grumbled the Bear King.

“We might hear what he has to say,” said Dorothy. “It won’t do any harm to ask the Pink Bear where Ozma is.”

“I will not have him questioned,” declared the King, in a surly voice. “I do not intend to allow my little Pink Bear to be again insulted by your foolish doubts. He never makes a mistake.”

“Didn’t he say Ozma was in that hole in the ground?” asked Betsy.

“He did; and I am certain she was there,” replied the Lavender Bear.

Scraps laughed jeeringly and the others saw there was no use arguing with the stubborn Bear King, who seemed to have absolute faith in his Pink Bear. The Wizard, who knew that magical things can usually be depended upon, and that the little Pink Bear was able to answer questions by some remarkable power of magic, thought it wise to apologize to the Lavender Bear for the unbelief of his friends, at the same time urging the King to consent to question the Pink Bear once more. Cayke and the Frogman also pleaded with the big Bear, who finally agreed, although rather ungraciously, to put the little Bear’s wisdom to the test once more. So he sat the little one on his knee and turned the crank and the Wizard himself asked the questions in a very respectful tone of voice.

“Where is Ozma?” was his first query.

“Here, in this room,” answered the little Pink Bear.

They all looked around the room, but of course did not see her.

“In what part of this room is she?” was the Wizard’s next question.

“In Button-Bright’s pocket,” said the little Pink Bear.

This reply amazed them all, you may be sure, and although the three girls smiled and Scraps yelled: “Hoo-ray!” in derision, the Wizard seemed to consider the matter with grave thoughtfulness.

“In which one of Button-Bright’s pockets is Ozma?” he presently inquired.

“In the lefthand jacket-pocket,” said the little Pink Bear.

“The pink one has gone crazy!” exclaimed Button-Bright, staring hard at the little bear on the big bear’s knee.

“I am not so sure of that,” declared the Wizard. “If Ozma proves to be really in your pocket, then the little Pink Bear spoke truly when he said Ozma was in that hole in the ground. For at that time you were also in the hole, and after we had pulled you out of it the little Pink Bear said Ozma was not in the hole.”

“He never makes a mistake,” asserted the Bear King, stoutly.

“Empty that pocket, Button-Bright, and let’s see what’s in it,” requested Dorothy.

So Button-Bright laid the contents of his left jacket-pocket on the table. These proved to be a peg-top, a bunch of string, a small rubber ball and a golden peach-pit.

“What’s this?” asked the Wizard, picking up the peach-pit and examining it closely.

“Oh,” said the boy, “I saved that to show to the girls, and then forgot all about it. It came out of a lonesome peach that I found in the orchard back yonder, and which I ate while I was lost. It looks like gold, and I never saw a peach-pit like it before.”

“Nor I,” said the Wizard, “and that makes it seem suspicious.”

All heads were bent over the golden peach-pit. The Wizard turned it over several times and then took out his pocket-knife and pried the pit open.

As the two halves fell apart a pink, cloud-like haze came pouring from the golden peach-pit, almost filling the big room, and from the haze a form took shape and settled beside them. Then, as the haze faded away, a sweet voice said: “Thank you, my friends!” and there before them stood their lovely girl Ruler, Ozma of Oz.

With a cry of delight Dorothy rushed forward and embraced her. Scraps turned gleeful flip-flops all around the room. Button-Bright gave a low whistle of astonishment. The Frogman took off his tall hat and bowed low before the beautiful girl who had been freed from her enchantment in so startling a manner.

For a time no sound was heard beyond the low murmur of delight that came from the amazed group, but presently the growl of the big Lavender Bear grew louder and he said in a tone of triumph:

“He never makes a mistake!”

Ozma of Oz

“It’s funny,” said Toto, standing before his friend the Lion and wagging his tail, “but I’ve found my growl at last! I am positive, now, that it was the cruel magician who stole it.”

“Let’s hear your growl,” requested the Lion.

“Gr-r-r-r-r-r!” said Toto.

“That is fine,” declared the big beast. “It isn’t as loud or as deep as the growl of the big Lavender Bear, but it is a very respectable growl for a small dog. Where did you find it, Toto?”

“I was smelling in the corner, yonder,” said Toto, “when suddenly a mouse ran out—and I growled!”

The others were all busy congratulating Ozma, who was very happy at being released from the confinement of the golden peach-pit, where the magician had placed her with the notion that she never could be found or liberated.

“And only to think,” cried Dorothy, “that Button-Bright has been carrying you in his pocket all this time, and we never knew it!”

“The little Pink Bear told you,” said the Bear King, “but you wouldn’t believe him.”

“Never mind, my dears,” said Ozma graciously; “all is well that ends well, and you couldn’t be expected to know I was inside the peach-pit. Indeed, I feared I would remain a captive much longer than I did, for Ugu is a bold and clever magician and he had hidden me very securely.”

“You were in a fine peach,” said Button-Bright; “the best I ever ate.”

“The magician was foolish to make the peach so tempting,” remarked the Wizard; “but Ozma would lend beauty to any transformation.”

“How did you manage to conquer Ugu the Shoemaker?” inquired the girl Ruler of Oz.

Dorothy started to tell the story and Trot helped her, and Button-Bright wanted to relate it in his own way, and the Wizard tried to make it clear to Ozma, and Betsy had to remind them of important things they left out, and all together there was such a chatter that it was a wonder that Ozma understood any of it. But she listened patiently, with a smile on her lovely face at their eagerness, and presently had gleaned all the details of their adventures.

Ozma thanked the Frogman very earnestly for his assistance and she advised Cayke the Cookie Cook to dry her weeping eyes, for she promised to take her to the Emerald City and see that her cherished dishpan was restored to her. Then the beautiful Ruler took a chain of emeralds from around her own neck and placed it around the neck of the little Pink Bear.

“Your wise answers to the questions of my friends,” said she, “helped them to rescue me. Therefore I am deeply grateful to you and to your noble King.”

The bead eyes of the little Pink Bear stared unresponsive to this praise until the Big Lavender Bear turned the crank in its side, when it said in its squeaky voice:

“I thank Your Majesty.”

“For my part,” returned the Bear King, “I realize that you were well worth saving, Miss Ozma, and so I am much pleased that we could be of service to you. By means of my Magic Wand I have been creating exact images of your Emerald City and your Royal Palace, and I must confess that they are more attractive than any places I have ever seen—not excepting Bear Center.”

“I would like to entertain you in my palace,” returned Ozma, sweetly, “and you are welcome to return with me and to make me a long visit, if your bear subjects can spare you from your own kingdom.”

“As for that,” answered the King, “my kingdom causes me little worry, and I often find it somewhat tame and uninteresting. Therefore I am in no hurry to return to it and will be glad to accept your kind invitation. Corporal Waddle may be trusted to care for my bears in my absence.”

“And you’ll bring the little Pink Bear?” asked Dorothy eagerly.

“Of course, my dear; I would not willingly part with him.”

They remained in the wicker castle for three days, carefully packing all the magical things that had been stolen by Ugu and also taking whatever in the way of magic the shoemaker had inherited from his ancestors.

“For,” said Ozma, “I have forbidden any of my subjects except Glinda the Good and the Wizard of Oz to practice magical arts, because they cannot be trusted to do good and not harm. Therefore Ugu must never again be permitted to work magic of any sort.”

“Well,” remarked Dorothy cheerfully, “a dove can’t do much in the way of magic, anyhow, and I’m going to keep Ugu in the form of a dove until he reforms and becomes a good and honest shoemaker.”

When everything was packed and loaded on the backs of the animals, they set out for the river, taking a more direct route than that by which Cayke and the Frogman had come. In this way they avoided the Cities of Thi and Herku and Bear Center and after a pleasant journey reached the Winkie River and found a jolly ferryman who had a fine big boat and was willing to carry the entire party by water to a place quite near to the Emerald City.

The river had many windings and many branches, and the journey did not end in a day, but finally the boat floated into a pretty lake which was but a short distance from Ozma’s home. Here the jolly ferryman was rewarded for his labors and then the entire party set out in a grand procession to march to the Emerald City.

News that the Royal Ozma had been found spread quickly throughout the neighborhood and both sides of the road soon became lined with loyal subjects of the beautiful and beloved Ruler. Therefore Ozma’s ears heard little but cheers and her eyes beheld little else than waving handkerchiefs and banners during all the triumphal march from the lake to the city’s gates.

And there she met a still greater concourse, for all the inhabitants of the Emerald City turned out to welcome her return and several bands played gay music and all the houses were decorated with flags and bunting and never before were the people so joyous and happy as at this moment when they welcomed home their girl Ruler. For she had been lost and was now found again, and surely that was cause for rejoicing.

Glinda was at the royal palace to meet the returning party and the good Sorceress was indeed glad to have her Great Book of Records returned to her, as well as all the precious collection of magic instruments and elixirs and chemicals that had been stolen from her castle. Cap’n Bill and the Wizard at once hung the Magic Picture upon the wall of Ozma’s boudoir and the Wizard was so light-hearted that he did several tricks with the tools in his black bag to amuse his companions and prove that once again he was a powerful wizard.

For a whole week there was feasting and merriment and all sorts of joyous festivities at the palace, in honor of Ozma’s safe return. The Lavender Bear and the little Pink Bear received much attention and were honored by all, much to the Bear King’s satisfaction. The Frogman speedily became a favorite at the Emerald City and the Shaggy Man and Tik-Tok and Jack Pumpkinhead, who had now returned from their search, were very polite to the big frog and made him feel quite at home. Even the Cookie Cook, because she was a stranger and Ozma’s guest, was shown as much deference as if she had been a queen.

“All the same, Your Majesty,” said Cayke to Ozma, day after day, with tiresome repetition, “I hope you will soon find my jeweled dishpan, for never can I be quite happy without it.”

Dorothy Forgives

The gray dove which had once been Ugu the Shoemaker sat on its tree in the far Quadling Country and moped, chirping dismally and brooding over its misfortunes. After a time the Scarecrow and the Tin Woodman came along and sat beneath the tree, paying no heed to the mutterings of the gray dove.

The Tin Woodman took a small oilcan from his tin pocket and carefully oiled his tin joints with it. While he was thus engaged the Scarecrow remarked:

“I feel much better, dear comrade, since we found that heap of nice clean straw and you stuffed me anew with it.”

“And I feel much better now that my joints are oiled,” returned the Tin Woodman, with a sigh of pleasure. “You and I, friend Scarecrow, are much more easily cared for than those clumsy meat people, who spend half their time dressing in fine clothes and who must live in splendid dwellings in order to be contented and happy. You and I do not eat, and so we are spared the dreadful bother of getting three meals a day. Nor do we waste half our lives in sleep, a condition that causes the meat people to lose all consciousness and become as thoughtless and helpless as logs of wood.”

“You speak truly,” responded the Scarecrow, tucking some wisps of straw into his breast with his padded fingers. “I often feel sorry for the meat people, many of whom are my friends. Even the beasts are happier than they, for they require less to make them content. And the birds are the luckiest creatures of all, for they can fly swiftly where they will and find a home at any place they care to perch; their food consists of seeds and grains they gather from the fields and their drink is a sip of water from some running brook. If I could not be a Scarecrow—or a Tin Woodman—my next choice would be to live as a bird does.”

The gray dove had listened carefully to this speech and seemed to find comfort in it, for it hushed its moaning. And just then the Tin Woodman discovered Cayke’s dishpan, which was on the ground quite near to him.

“Here is a rather pretty utensil,” he said, taking it in his tin hands to examine it, “but I would not care to own it. Whoever fashioned it of gold and covered it with diamonds did not add to its usefulness, nor do I consider it as beautiful as the bright dishpans of tin one usually sees. No yellow color is ever so handsome as the silver sheen of tin,” and he turned to look at his tin legs and body with approval.

“I cannot quite agree with you there,” replied the Scarecrow. “My straw stuffing has a light yellow color, and it is not only pretty to look at but it crunkles most delightfully when I move.”

“Let us admit that all colors are good in their proper places,” said the Tin Woodman, who was too kind-hearted to quarrel; “but you must agree with me that a dishpan that is yellow is unnatural. What shall we do with this one, which we have just found?”

“Let us carry it back to the Emerald City,” suggested the Scarecrow. “Some of our friends might like to have it for a foot-bath, and in using it that way its golden color and sparkling ornaments would not injure its usefulness.”

So they went away and took the jeweled dishpan with them. And, after wandering through the country for a day or so longer, they learned the news that Ozma had been found. Therefore they straightway returned to the Emerald City and presented the dishpan to Princess Ozma as a token of their joy that she had been restored to them.

Ozma promptly gave the diamond-studded gold dishpan to Cayke the Cookie Cook, who was so delighted at regaining her lost treasure that she danced up and down in glee and then threw her skinny arms around Ozma’s neck and kissed her gratefully. Cayke’s mission was now successfully accomplished, but she was having such a good time at the Emerald City that she seemed in no hurry to go back to the Country of the Yips.

It was several weeks after the dishpan had been restored to the Cookie Cook when one day, as Dorothy was seated in the royal gardens with Trot and Betsy beside her, a gray dove came flying down and alighted at the girl’s feet.

“I am Ugu the Shoemaker,” said the dove in a soft, mourning voice, “and I have come to ask you to forgive me for the great wrong I did in stealing Ozma and the magic that belonged to her and to others.”

“Are you sorry, then?” asked Dorothy, looking hard at the bird.

“I am very sorry,” declared Ugu. “I’ve been thinking over my misdeeds for a long time, for doves have little else to do but think, and I’m surprised that I was such a wicked man and had so little regard for the rights of others. I am now convinced that even had I succeeded in making myself ruler of all Oz I should not have been happy, for many days of quiet thought have shown me that only those things one acquires honestly are able to render one content.”

“I guess that’s so,” said Trot.

“Anyhow,” said Betsy, “the bad man seems truly sorry, and if he has now become a good and honest man we ought to forgive him.”

“I fear I cannot become a good man again,” said Ugu, “for the transformation I am under will always keep me in the form of a dove. But, with the kind forgiveness of my former enemies, I hope to become a very good dove, and highly respected.”

“Wait here till I run for my Magic Belt,” said Dorothy, “and I’ll transform you back to your reg’lar shape in a jiffy.”

“No—don’t do that!” pleaded the dove, fluttering its wings in an excited way. “I only want your forgiveness; I don’t want to be a man again. As Ugu the Shoemaker I was skinny and old and unlovely; as a dove I am quite pretty to look at. As a man I was ambitious and cruel, while as a dove I can be content with my lot and happy in my simple life. I have learned to love the free and independent life of a bird and I’d rather not change back.”

“Just as you like, Ugu,” said Dorothy, resuming her seat. “Perhaps you are right, for you’re cert’nly a better dove than you were a man, and if you should ever backslide, an’ feel wicked again, you couldn’t do much harm as a gray dove.”

“Then you forgive me for all the trouble I caused you?” he asked earnestly.

“Of course; anyone who’s sorry just has to be forgiven.”

“Thank you,” said the gray dove, and flew away again.