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And water from a pitch-dark well.

The yellow wing of a butterfly
To find must Ojo also try,

And if he gets them without harm,
Doc Pipt will make the magic charm;

But if he doesn't get 'em, Unc
Will always stand a marble chunk."

The Magician looked at her thoughtfully.
"Poor Margolotte must have given you some of the

quality of poesy, by mistake," he said. "And, if
that is true, I didn't make a very good article

when I prepared it, or else you got an overdose or
an underdose. However, I believe I shall let you

go with Ojo, for my poor wife will not need your
services until she is restored to life. Also I

think you may be able to help the boy, for your
head seems to contain some thoughts I did not

expect to find in it. But be very careful of
yourself, for you're a souvenir of my dear

Margolotte. Try not to get ripped, or your
stuffing may fall out. One of your eyes seems

loose, and you may have to sew it on tighter. If
you talk too much you'll wear out your scarlet

plush tongue, which ought to have been hemmed on
the edges. And remember you belong to me and must

return here as soon as your mission is
accomplished."

"I'm going with Scraps and Ojo," announced
the Glass Cat.

"You can't," said the Magician.
"Why not?"

"You'd get broken in no time, and you
couldn't be a bit of use to the boy and the

Patchwork Girl."
"I beg to differ with you," returned the cat,

in a haughty tone. "Three heads are better
than two, and my pink brains are beautiful.

You can see em work."
"Well, go along," said the Magician, irritably.

"You're only an annoyance, anyhow, and I'm glad to
get rid of you."

"Thank you for nothing, then," answered the cat,
stiffly.

Dr. Pipt took a small basket from a cupboard
and packed several things in it. Then he handed

it to Ojo.
"Here is some food and a bundle of charms," he

said. "It is all I can give you, but I am sure you
will find friends on your journey who will assist

you in your search. Take care of the Patchwork
Girl and bring her safely back, for she ought to

prove useful to my wife. As for the Glass Cat--
properly named Bungle--if she bothers you I now

give you my permission to break her in two, for
she is not respectful and does not obey me. I made

a mistake in giving her the pink brains, you see.
Then Ojo went to Unc Nunkie and kissed the old

man's marble face very tenderly.
"I'm going to try to save you, Unc," he said,

just as if the marble image could hear him; and
then he shook the crooked hand of the Crooked

Magician, who was already busy hanging the four
kettles in the fireplace, and picking up his

basket left the house.
The Patchwork Girl followed him, and after

them came the Glass Cat.
Chapter Six

The Journey
Ojo had never traveled before and so he only knew

that the path down the mountainside led into the
open Munchkin Country, where large numbers of

people dwelt. Scraps was quite new and not
supposed to know anything of the Land of Oz, while

the Glass Cat admitted she had never wandered very
far away from the Magician's house. There was only

one path before them, at the beginning, so they
could not miss their way, and for a time they

walked through the thick forest in silent thought,
each one impressed with the importance of the

adventure they had undertaken.
Suddenly the Patchwork Girl laughed. It was

funny to see her laugh, because her cheeks
wrinkled up, her nose tipped, her silver button

eyes twinkled and her mouth curled at the
corners in a comical way.

"Has something pleased you?" asked Ojo, who was
feeling solemn and joyless through thinking upon

his uncle's sad fate.
"Yes," she answered. "Your world pleases me, for

it's a queer world, and life in it is queerer
still. Here am I, made from an old bedquilt and

intended to be a slave to Margolotte, rendered
free as air by an accident that none of you could

foresee. I am enjoying life and seeing the world,
while the woman who made me is standing helpless

as a block of wood. If that isn't funny enough to
laugh at, I don't know what is."

"You're not seeing much of the world yet,
my poor, innocent Scraps," remarked the Cat.

"The world doesn't consist wholly of the trees
that are on all sides of us."

"But they're part of it; and aren't they pretty
trees?" returned Scraps, bobbing her head until

her brown yarn curls fluttered in the breeze.
"Growing between them I can see lovely ferns

and wild-flowers, and soft green mosses. If the
rest of your world is half as beautiful I shall be

glad I'm alive."
"I don't know what the rest of the world is

like, I'm sure," said the cat; "but I mean to
find out."

"I have never been out of the forest," Ojo
added; "but to me the trees are gloomy and sad

and the wild-flowers seem lonesome. It must be
nicer where there are no trees and there is room

for lots of people to live together."
"I wonder if any of the people we shall meet

will be as splendid as I am," said the Patchwork
Girl. "All I have seen, so far, have pale,

colorless skins and clothes as blue as the country
they live in, while I am of many gorgeous colors--

face and body and clothes. That is why I am bright
and contented, Ojo, while you are blue and sad."

"I think I made a mistake in giving you so many
sorts of brains," observed the boy. "Perhaps, as

the Magician said, you have an over-dose, and they
may not agree with you."

"What had you to do with my brains?" asked
Scraps.

"A lot," replied Ojo. "Old Margolotte meant
to give you only a few--just enough to keep

you going--but when she wasn't looking I added
a good many more, of the best kinds I could

find in the Magician's cupboard."
"Thanks," said the girl, dancing along the

path ahead of Ojo and then dancing back to his
side. "If a few brains are good, many brains

must be better."
"But they ought to be evenly balanced," said the

boy, "and I had no time to be careful. From the
way you're acting, I guess the dose was badly

mixed."
"Scraps hasn't enough brains to hurt her, so

don't worry," remarked the cat, which was trotting
along in a very dainty and graceful manner. "The

only brains worth considering are mine, which are
pink. You can see 'em work."

After walking a long time they came to a little
brook that trickled across the path, and here Ojo

sat down to rest and eat something from his
basket. He found that the Magician had given him

part of a loaf of bread and a slice of cheese. He
broke off some of the bread and was surprised to

find the loaf just as large as it was before. It
was the same way with the cheese: however much he

broke off from the slice, it remained exactly the
same size.

"Ah," said he, nodding wisely; "that's magic.
Dr. Pipt has enchanted the bread and the cheese,

so it will last me all through my journey, however
much I eat."

"Why do you put those things into your mouth?"
asked Scraps, gazing at him in astonishment. "Do

you need more stuffing? Then why don't you use
cotton, such as I am stuffed with?"

"I don't need that kind," said Ojo.
"But a mouth is to talk with, isn't it?"

"It is also to eat with," replied the boy. "If I
didn't put food into my mouth, and eat it, I would

get hungry and starve.
"Ah, I didn't know that," she said. "Give me

some."
Ojo handed her a bit of the bread and she put it

in her mouth.
"What next?" she asked, scarcely able to speak.

"Chew it and swallow it," said the boy.
Scraps tried that. Her pearl teeth were unable

to chew the bread and beyond her mouth there was
no opening. Being unable to swallow she threw away

the bread and laughed.
"I must get hungry and starve, for I can't eat,"

she said.
"Neither can I," announced the cat; "but I'm

not fool enough to try. Can't you understand
that you and I are superior people and not made

like these poor humans?"
"Why should I understand that, or anything

else?" asked the girl. "Don't bother my head by
asking conundrums, I beg of you. Just let me

discover myself in my own way."
With this she began amusing herself by leaping

across the brook and hack again.
"Be careful, or you'll fall in the water,"

warned Ojo.
"Never mind."

"You'd better. If you get wet you'll be soggy
and can't walk. Your colors might run, too,"

he said.
"Don't my colors run whenever I run?" she asked.

"Not in the way I mean. If they get wet, the
reds and greens and yellows and purples of your



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