know her capture will do us no good at all.”
“Suppose we try kindness,” suggested the Tin Woodman. “I’ve heard that anyone can be conquered with kindness, no matter how ugly they may be.”
At this the Witch turned to glare upon him so horribly that the Tin Woodman shrank back abashed.
Glinda had been carefully considering what to do, and now she turned to Mombi and said:
“You will gain nothing, I assure you, by thus defying us. For I am determined to learn the truth about the girl Ozma, and unless you tell me all that you know, I will certainly put you to death.”
“Oh, no! Don’t do that!” exclaimed the Tin Woodman. “It would be an awful thing to kill anyone—even old Mombi!”
“But it is merely a threat,” returned Glinda. “I shall not put Mombi to death, because she will prefer to tell me the truth.”
“Oh, I see!” said the tin man, much relieved.
“Suppose I tell you all that you wish to know,”. said Mombi, speaking so suddenly that she startled them all. “What will you do with me then?”
“In that case,” replied Glinda, “I shall merely ask you to drink a powerful draught which will cause you to forget all the magic you have ever learned.”
“Then I would become a helpless old woman!”
“But you would be alive,” suggested the Pumpkinhead, consolingly.
“Do try to keep silent!” said Tip, nervously.
“I’ll try,” responded Jack; “but you will admit that it’s a good thing to be alive.”
“Especially if one happens to be Thoroughly Educated,” added the WoggleBug, nodding approval.
“You may make your choice,” Glinda said to old Mombi, “between death if you remain silent, and the loss of your magical powers if you tell me the truth. But I think you will prefer to live.”
Mombi cast an uneasy glance at the Sorceress, and saw that she was in earnest, and not to be trifled with. So she replied, slowly:
“I will answer your questions.”
“That is what I expected,” said Glinda, pleasantly. “You have chosen wisely, I assure you.”
She then motioned to one of her Captains, who brought her a beautiful golden casket. From this the Sorceress drew an immense white pearl, attached to a slender chain which she placed around her neck in such a way that the pearl rested upon her bosom, directly over her heart.
“Now,” said she, “I will ask my first question: Why did the Wizard pay you three visits?”
“Because I would not come to him,” answered Mombi.
“That is no answer,” said Glinda, sternly. “Tell me the truth.”
“Well,” returned Mombi, with downcast eyes, “he visited me to learn the way I make tea-biscuits.”
“Look up!” commanded the Sorceress.
Mombi obeyed.
“What is the color of my pearl?” demanded Glinda.
“Why—it is black!” replied the old Witch, in a tone of wonder.
“Then you have told me a falsehood!” cried Glinda, angrily. “Only when the truth is spoken will my magic pearl remain a pure white in color.”
Mombi now saw how useless it was to try to deceive the Sorceress; so she said, meanwhile scowling at her defeat:
“The Wizard brought to me the girl Ozma, who was then no more than a baby, and begged me to conceal the child.”
“That is what I thought,” declared Glinda, calmly. “What did he give you for thus serving him?”
“He taught me all the magical tricks he knew. Some were good tricks, and some were only frauds; but I have remained faithful to my promise.”
“What did you do with the girl?” asked Glinda; and at this question everyone bent forward and listened eagerly for the reply.
“I enchanted her,” answered Mombi.
“In what way?”
“I transformed her into—into—”
“Into what?” demanded Glinda, as the Witch hesitated.
“Into a boy!” said Mombi, in a low tone.
“A boy!” echoed every voice; and then, because they knew that this old woman had reared Tip from childhood, all eyes were turned to where the boy stood.
“Yes,” said the old Witch, nodding her head; “that is the Princess Ozma—the child brought to me by the Wizard who stole her father’s throne. That is the rightful ruler of the Emerald City!” and she pointed her long bony finger straight at the boy.
“I!” cried Tip, in amazement. “Why, I’m no Princess Ozma—I’m not a girl!”
Glinda smiled, and going to Tip she took his small brown hand within her dainty white one.
“You are not a girl just now” said she, gently, “because Mombi transformed you into a boy. But you were born a girl, and also a Princess; so you must resume your proper form, that you may become Queen of the Emerald City.”
“Oh, let Jinjur be the Queen!” exclaimed Tip, ready to cry. “I want to stay a boy, and travel with the Scarecrow and the Tin Woodman, and the WoggleBug, and Jack—yes! and my friend the SawHorse—and the Gump! I don’t want to be a girl!”
“Never mind, old chap,” said the Tin Woodman, soothingly; “it don’t hurt to be a girl, I’m told; and we will all remain your faithful friends just the same. And, to be honest with you, I’ve always considered girls nicer than boys.”
“They’re just as nice, anyway,” added the Scarecrow, patting Tip affectionately upon the head.
“And they are equally good students,” proclaimed the WoggleBug. “I should like to become your tutor, when you are transformed into a girl again.”
“But—see here!” said Jack Pumpkinhead, with a gasp: “if you become a girl, you can’t be my dear father any more!”
“No,” answered Tip, laughing in spite of his anxiety. “and I shall not be sorry to escape the relationship.” Then he added, hesitatingly, as he turned to Glinda: “I might try it for awhile,-just to see how it seems, you know. But if I don’t like being a girl you must promise to change me into a boy again.”
“Really,” said the Sorceress, “that is beyond my magic. I never deal in transformations, for they are not honest, and no respectable sorceress likes to make things appear to be what they are not. Only unscrupulous witches use the art, and therefore I must ask Mombi to effect your release from her charm, and restore
