"Well, that's pretty hard luck," he said bravely, "but if it can't be helped I must endure it; that's all. I don't like being a monkey, but what's the use of kicking against my fate?" They were all very sorry for him, and Dorothy anxiously asked Ozma: "Couldn't Glinda save him?" "No," was the reply. "Glinda's power in transformations is no greater than my own.

Dorothy knew almost everybody in Oz, and it was she who had discovered the Scarecrow, the Tin Woodman and the Cowardly Lion, as well as Tik-Tok the Clockwork Man. Her life was very pleasant now, and although she had been made a Princess of Oz by her friend Ozma she did not care much to be a Princess and remained as sweet as when she had been plain Dorothy Gale of Kansas.

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.

"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.

It was all that remained of Ozma of Oz. In the throne room just beyond the palace the Nome King suddenly looked up and smiled. "Next!" he said, in his pleasant voice. Dorothy, the Scarecrow, and the Tin Woodman, who had been sitting in anxious silence, each gave a start of dismay and stared into one another's eyes. "Has she failed?" asked Tiktok.

"The important thing just now," he remarked, "is to find Ozma, and as our party is again happily reunited, I propose we move on." As they came to the edge of the Great Orchard, the sun was setting and they knew it would soon be dark. So it was decided to camp under the trees, as another broad plain was before them.

She was standing in the courtyard of the palace with Betsy and Trot, while Scraps, the Patchwork Girl, danced around the group, her hair flying in the wind. "P'raps," said Scraps, still dancing, "someone has stolen Ozma." "Oh, they'd never dare do that!" exclaimed tiny Trot. "And stolen the Magic Picture, too, so the thing can't tell where she is," added the Patchwork Girl.

So the Wizard took his bag of magic tools and the two left the Emerald City and wandered over the country for many days, at last reaching a place far up in the mountains which neither of them had ever visited before. Stopping one morning at a cottage, built beside the rocky path which led into a pretty valley beyond, Ozma asked a man: "Are you happy? Have you any complaint to make of your lot?"

She did her spell once more. This time, nothing happened. "I am sorry," sighed Ozma. "I am already feeling exhausted. I'm afraid I will have to wait a while before I can do it again." "You mean," said Tweaty, "I have to look like this until you are able to rest up?" "I'm afraid so," said Ozma sadly. "I'm sure that will change as I grow more experienced.

Ozma looked at him indignantly, but she said nothing more. She knew that it would be hard to convince anyone of her origin without some sort of proof. And, indeed, what would serve as sufficient proof to convince this Doubting Thomas?