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Updated: May 17, 2025
"So I can," replied the woodchopper; "but I can't see that they accomplish much. A glass cat is a useless sort of thing, but a Patchwork Girl is really useful. She makes me laugh, and laughter is the best thing in life. There was once a woodchopper, a friend of mine, who was made all of tin, and I used to laugh every time I saw him." "A tin woodchopper?" said Ojo. "That is strange."
But, before he could think what he ought to do to save her, another leaf bent down and captured the Glass Cat, rolling around the little creature until she was completely hidden, and then straightening up again upon its stem. "Look out," cried the Woozy. "Run! Run fast, or you are lost." Ojo turned and saw the Woozy running swiftly up the road.
The next moment they form with the rapidity of thought, and wheeling in their tracks, ride off in single file, heading to the southward. The larger band has passed. The smaller, the Navajoes, follow in the same trail. No! The latter has suddenly filed to the left, and is crossing the prairie towards the east, towards the spring of the Ojo de Vaca.
Scraps, who had been dancing up and down the room, stopped and looked at him. "What is a servant?" she asked. "One who serves. A a sort of slave," he explained. "Very well," said the Patchwork Girl, "I'm going to serve you and your wife by helping Ojo find the things you need. You need a lot, you know, such as are not easily found." "It is true," sighed Dr. Pipt.
"Put me to the test, my dear Patches, and I'll prove my wisdom in the wink of an eye." "What is the best way to get to the Emerald City?" asked Ojo. "Walk," said the donkey. "I know; but what road shall I take?" was the boy's next question. "The road of yellow bricks, of course. It leads directly to the Emerald City." "And how shall we find the road of yellow bricks?"
It fills me with a crunkling joy A straw-stack to behold, For then I pad this lucky boy With strands of yellow gold." "Ah!" exclaimed the Shaggy Man; "here comes my friend the Scarecrow." "What, a live Scarecrow?" asked Ojo. "Yes; the one I told you of. He's a splendid fellow, and very intelligent. You'll like him, I'm sure."
The cat, which could see in the dark, looked sharply around for the owner of the Voice, but could discover no one, although the Voice had seemed close beside them. She arched her back a little and seemed afraid. Then she whispered to Ojo: "Come!" and led him to a bed. With his hands the boy felt of the bed and found it was big and soft, with feather pillows and plenty of blankets.
I've the right to make a servant girl for my wife, you know, or a Glass Cat to catch our mice which she refuses to do but I am forbidden to work magic for others, or to use it as a profession." "Magic must be a very interesting study," said Ojo. "It truly is," asserted the Magician. "In my time I've performed some magical feats that were worthy of the skill of Glinda the Good.
"Well, you can't see the Scarecrow's brains work, but they do a lot of clever thinking," asserted the Shaggy Man. "If anyone knows where a dark well is, it's my friend the Scarecrow." "Where does he live?" inquired Ojo.
"Tell you what," said Scraps, who was trying to pull the quills out of her own body, "let's gather up all the quills and take them away with us; then old Chiss won't have any left to throw at people." "Ah, that's a clever idea. You and Ojo must gather up the quills while I hold Chiss a prisoner; for, if I let him go, he will get some of his quills and be able to throw them again."
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