can make my eyes flash fire—real fire—when I’m angry. When anyone says: ‘Krizzle-Kroo’ to me I get angry, and then my eyes flash fire.”
“I don’t see as fireworks could help Ojo’s uncle,” remarked Dorothy. “Can you do anything else?”
“I—I thought I had a very terrifying growl,” said the Woozy, with hesitation; “but perhaps I was mistaken.”
“Yes,” said the Shaggy Man, “you were certainly wrong about that.” Then he turned to Dorothy and added: “What will become of the Munchkin boy?”
“I don’t know,” she said, shaking her head thoughtfully. “Ozma will see him ‘bout it, of course, and then she’ll punish him. But how, I don’t know, ‘cause no one ever has been punished in Oz since I knew anything about the place. Too bad, Shaggy Man, isn’t it?”
While they were talking Scraps had been roaming around the room and looking at all the pretty things it contained. She had carried Ojo’s basket in her hand, until now, when she decided to see what was inside it. She found the bread and cheese, which she had no use for, and the bundle of charms, which were curious but quite a mystery to her. Then, turning these over, she came upon the six-leaved clover which the boy had plucked.
Scraps was quick-witted, and although she had no heart she recognized the fact that Ojo was her first friend. She knew at once that because the boy had taken the clover he had been imprisoned, and she understood that Ojo had given her the basket so they would not find the clover in his possession and have proof of his crime. So, turning her head to see that no one noticed her, she took the clover from the basket and dropped it into a golden vase that stood on Dorothy’s table. Then she came forward and said to Dorothy:
“I wouldn’t care to help Ojo’s uncle, but I will help Ojo. He did not break the Law—no one can prove he did—and that green-whiskered soldier had no right to arrest him.”
“Ozma ordered the boy’s arrest,” said Dorothy, “and of course she knew what she was doing. But if you can prove Ojo is innocent they will set him free at once.”
“They’ll have to prove him guilty, won’t they?” asked Scraps.
“I s’pose so.”
“Well, they can’t do that,” declared the Patchwork Girl.
As it was nearly time for Dorothy to dine with Ozma, which she did every evening, she rang for a servant and ordered the Woozy taken to a nice room and given plenty of such food as he liked best.
“That’s honey-bees,” said the Woozy.
“You can’t eat honey-bees, but you’ll be given something just as nice,” Dorothy told him. Then she had the Glass Cat taken to another room for the night and the Patchwork Girl she kept in one of her own rooms, for she was much interested in the strange creature and wanted to talk with her again and try to understand her better.
17. Ozma and Her Friends
The Shaggy Man had a room of his own in the royal palace, so there he went to change his shaggy suit of clothes for another just as shaggy but not so dusty from travel. He selected a costume of pea-green and pink satin and velvet, with embroidered shags on all the edges and iridescent pearls for ornaments. Then he bathed in an alabaster pool and brushed his shaggy hair and whiskers the wrong way to make them still more shaggy. This accomplished, and arrayed in his splendid shaggy garments, he went to Ozma’s banquet hall and found the Scarecrow, the Wizard and Dorothy already assembled there. The Scarecrow had made a quick trip and returned to the Emerald City with his left ear freshly painted.
A moment later, while they all stood in waiting, a servant threw open a door, the orchestra struck up a tune and Ozma of Oz entered.
Much has been told and written concerning the beauty of person and character of this sweet girl Ruler of the Land of Oz—the richest, the happiest and most delightful fairyland of which we have any knowledge. Yet with all her queenly qualities Ozma was a real girl and enjoyed the things in life that other real girls enjoy. When she sat on her splendid emerald throne in the great Throne Room of her palace and made laws and settled disputes and tried to keep all her subjects happy and contented, she was as dignified and demure as any queen might be; but when she had thrown aside her jeweled robe of state and her sceptre, and had retired to her private apartments, the girl—joyous, light-hearted and free—replaced the sedate Ruler.
In the banquet hall tonight were gathered only old and trusted friends, so here Ozma was herself—a mere girl. She greeted Dorothy with a kiss, the Shaggy Man with a smile, the little old Wizard with a friendly handshake and then she pressed the Scarecrow’s stuffed arm and cried merrily:
“What a lovely left ear! Why, it’s a hundred times better than the old one.”
“I’m glad you like it,” replied the Scarecrow, well pleased. “Jinjur did a neat job, didn’t she? And my hearing is now perfect. Isn’t it wonderful what a little paint will do, if it’s properly applied?”
“It really is wonderful,” she agreed, as they all took their seats; “but the Sawhorse must have made his legs twinkle to have carried you so far in one day. I didn’t expect you back before tomorrow, at the earliest.”
“Well,” said the Scarecrow, “I met a charming girl on the road and wanted to see more of her, so I hurried back.”
Ozma laughed.
“I know,” she returned; “it’s the Patchwork Girl. She is certainly bewildering, if not strictly beautiful.”
“Have you seen her, then?” the straw man eagerly asked.
“Only in my Magic Picture, which shows me all scenes of interest in the Land of Oz.”
“I fear the picture didn’t do her justice,” said the Scarecrow.
“It seemed to me that nothing could be more gorgeous,” declared Ozma. “Whoever made that patchwork quilt, from which Scraps was formed, must have selected the gayest and brightest bits of cloth that ever were woven.”
“I am glad you like her,” said the Scarecrow in a satisfied tone. Although the straw man did not eat, not being made so he could, he often dined with Ozma and her companions, merely for the pleasure of talking with them. He sat at the table and had a napkin and plate, but the servants knew better than to offer him food. After a little while he asked: “Where is the Patchwork Girl now?”
“In my room,” replied Dorothy. “I’ve taken a fancy to her; she’s so queer and—and—uncommon.”
“She’s half crazy, I think,” added the Shaggy Man.
“But she is so beautiful!” exclaimed the Scarecrow, as if that fact disarmed all criticism. They all laughed at his enthusiasm, but the Scarecrow was quite serious. Seeing that he was interested in Scraps they forbore to say anything against her. The little band of friends Ozma had gathered around her was so quaintly assorted that much care must be exercised to avoid hurting their feelings or making any one of them unhappy. It was this considerate kindness that held them close friends and enabled them to enjoy one another’s society.
