章节正文
dishpan?"
"It is the greatest treasure I posess," replied the
woman. "It belonged to my mother and to all my
grandmothers, since the beginning of time. It is, I
believe, the very oldest thing in all the Yip Country
-- or was while it was there -- and," she added,
dropping her voice to an awed whisper, "it has magic
powers!"
"In what way?" inquired the Frogman, seeming to be
surprised at this statement.
"Whoever has owned that dishpan has been a good cook,
for one thing. No one else is able to make such good
cookies as I have cooked, as you and all the Yips know.
Yet, the very morning after my dishpan was stolen. I
tried to make a batch of cookies and they burned up in
the oven! I made another batch that proved too tough to
eat, and I was so ashamed of them that I buried them in
the ground. Even the third batch of cookies, which I
brought with me in my basket, were pretty poor stuff
and no better than any woman could make who does not
own my diamond-studded gold dishpan. In fact, my good
Frogman, Cayke the Cookie Cook will never be able to
cook good cookies again until her magic dishpan is
restored to her."
"In that case," said the Frogman with a sigh, "I
suppose we must manage to find it."
Chapter Five
Ozma's Friends Are Perplexed
"Really," said Dorothy, looking solemn, this is very
s'prising. We can't find even a shadow of Ozma anywhere
in the Em'rald City; and, wherever she's gone, she's
taken her Magic Picture with her."
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.
"That's nonsense," said Dorothy. "Why, ev'ryone loves
Ozma. There isn't a person in the Land of Oz who would
steal a single thing she owns."
"Huh!" replied the Patchwork Girl. "You don't know
ev'ry person in the Land of Oz."
"Why don't I?"
"It's a big country," said Scraps. "There are cracks
and corners in it that even Ozma doesn't know of."
"The Patchwork Girl's just daffy," declared Betsy.
"No; she's right about that," replied Dorothy
thoughtfully. "There are lots of queer people in this
fairyland who never come near Ozma or the Em'rald City.
I've seen some of 'em myself, girls; but I haven't seen
all, of course, and there might be some wicked persons
left in Oz, yet, though I think the wicked witches have
all been destroyed."
Just then the Wooden Sawhorse dashed into the
courtyard with the Wizard of Oz on his back.
"Have you found Ozma?" cried the Wizard when the
Sawhorse stopped beside them.
"Not yet," said Dorothy. "Doesn't Glinda know where
she is?"
"No. Glinda's Book of Records and all her magic
instruments are gone. Someone must have stolen them."
"Goodness me!" exclaimed Dorothy, in alarm. "This is
the biggest steal I ever heard of. Who do you think did
it, Wizard?"
"I've no idea," he answered. "But I have come to get
my own bag of magic tools and carry them to Glinda. She
is so much more powerful than I that she may be able to
discover the truth by means of my magic, quicker and
better than I could myself."
"Hurry, then," said Dorothy, "for we're all getting
terr'bly worried."
The Wizard rushed away to his rooms but presently
came back with a long, sad face.
"It's gone!" he said.
"What's gone?" asked Scraps.
"My black bag of magic tools. Someone must have
stolen it!"
They looked at one another in amazement.
"This thing is getting desperate," continued the
Wizard. "All the magic that belongs to Ozma, or to
Glinda, or to me, has been stolen."
"Do you suppose Ozma could have taken them, herself,
for some purpose?" asked Betsy.
"No, indeed," declared the Wizard. "I suspect some
enemy has stolen Ozma and, for fear we would follow and
recapture her, has taken all our magic away from us."
"How dreadful!" cried Dorothy. "The idea of anyone
wanting to injure our dear Ozma! Can't we do anything
to find her, Wizard?"
"I'll ask Glinda. I must go straight back to her and
tell her that my magic tools have also disappeared. The
good Sorceress will be greatly shocked, I know."
With this he jumped upon the back of the Sawhorse
again and the quaint steed, which never tired, dashed
away at fall speed.
The three girls were very much disturbed in mind.
Even the Patchwork Girl was more quiet than usual and
seemed to realize that a great calamity had overtaken
them all. Ozma was a fairy of considerable power and
all the creatures in Oz, as well as the three mortal
girls from the outside world, looked upon her as their
protector and friend. The idea of their beautiful girl
Ruler's being overpowered by an enemy and dragged from
her splendid palace a captive was too astonishing for
them to comprehend, at first. Yet what other
explanation of the mystery could there be?
"Ozma wouldn't go away willingly, without letting us
know about it," asserted Dorothy; "and she wouldn't
steal Glinda's Great Book of Records, or the Wizard's
magic, 'cause she could get them any time, just asking
for 'em. I'm sure some wicked person has done all
this."
"Someone in the Land of Oz?" asked Trot.
"Of course. No one could get across the Deadly
Desert, you know, and no one but an Oz person could
know about the Magic Picture and the Book of Records
and the Wizard's magic, or where they were kept, and so
be able to steal the whole outfit before we could stop
'em. It must be someone who lives in the Land of Oz."
"But who-who-who?" asked Scraps. "That's the
question. Who?"
"If we knew," replied Dorothy, severely, "we wouldn't
be standing here, doing nothing."
Just then two boys entered the courtyard and
approached the group of girls. One boy was dressed in
the fantastic Munchkin costume -- a blue jacket and
knickerbockers, blue leather shoes and a blue hat with
a high peak and tiny silver bells dangling from its rim
-- and this was Ojo the Lucky, who had once come from
the Munchkin Country of Oz and now lived in the Emerald
City. The other boy was an American, from Philadelphia,
and had lately found his way to Oz in the company of
Trot and Cap'n Bill. His name was Button-Bright; that
is, everyone called him by that name, and knew no
other.
Button-Bright was not quite as big as the Munchkin
boy, but he wore the same kind of clothes, only they
were of different colors. As the two came up to the
girls, arm in arm, Button-Bright remarked:
"Hello, Dorothy. They say Ozma is lost."
"Who says so?" she asked.
"Ev'rybody's talking about it, in the City," he
replied.
"I wonder how the people found it out?" Dorothy
asked.
"I know," said Ojo. "Jellia Jamb told them. She has
been asking everywhere if anyone has seen Ozma."
"That's too bad," observed Dorothy, frowning.
"Why?" asked Button-Bright.
"There wasn't any use making all our people unhappy,
till we were dead certain that Ozma can't be found."
"Pshaw," said Button-Bright, "It's nothing to get
lost. I've been lost lots of times."
"That's true," admitted Trot, who knew that the boy
had a habit of getting lost and then finding himself
again; "but it's diff'rent with Ozma. She's the Ruler
of all this big fairyland and we're 'fraid that the
reason she's lost is because somebody has stolen her
away."
"Only wicked people steal," said Ojo. "Do you know of
any wicked people in Oz, Dorothy?"
"No," she replied.
"They're here, though," cried Scraps, dancing up to
them and then circling around the group. Ozma's stolen;
someone in Oz stole her; only wicked people steal; so
someone in Oz is wicked!"
There was no denying the truth of this statement. The
faces of all of them were now solemn and sorrowful.
"One thing is sure," said Button-Bright, after a
time, "if Ozma has been stolen, someone ought to find
her and punish the thief."
"There may be a lot of thieves," suggested Trot
gravely, "and in this fairy country they don t seem to
have any soldiers or policemen."
"There is one soldier," claimed Dorothy. "He has
green whiskers and a gun and is a Major-General; but no
one is afraid of either his gun or his whiskers, 'cause
he's so tender-hearted that he wouldn't hurt a fly."
"Well, a soldier's a soldier," said Betsy, "and
perhaps he'd hurt a wicked thief if he wouldn't hurt a
fly. Where is he?"
"He went fishing about two months ago and hasn't come
back yet," explained Button-Bright.
"Then I can't see that he will be of much use to us
in this trouble," sighed little Trot. "But p'raps Ozma,
who is a fairy, can get away from the thieves without
any help from anybody."
"She might be able to," admitted Dorothy,
reflectively, "but if she had the power to do that, it
isn't likely she'd have let herself be stolen. So the
thieves must have been even more powerful in magic than
our Ozma."
There was no denying this argument and, although they
talked the matter over all the rest of that day, they
were unable to decide how Ozma had been stolen against
her will or who had committed the dreadful deed.
Toward evening the Wizard came back, riding slowly
upon the Sawhorse because he felt discouraged and
"It is the greatest treasure I posess," replied the
woman. "It belonged to my mother and to all my
grandmothers, since the beginning of time. It is, I
believe, the very oldest thing in all the Yip Country
-- or was while it was there -- and," she added,
dropping her voice to an awed whisper, "it has magic
powers!"
"In what way?" inquired the Frogman, seeming to be
surprised at this statement.
"Whoever has owned that dishpan has been a good cook,
for one thing. No one else is able to make such good
cookies as I have cooked, as you and all the Yips know.
Yet, the very morning after my dishpan was stolen. I
tried to make a batch of cookies and they burned up in
the oven! I made another batch that proved too tough to
eat, and I was so ashamed of them that I buried them in
the ground. Even the third batch of cookies, which I
brought with me in my basket, were pretty poor stuff
and no better than any woman could make who does not
own my diamond-studded gold dishpan. In fact, my good
Frogman, Cayke the Cookie Cook will never be able to
cook good cookies again until her magic dishpan is
restored to her."
"In that case," said the Frogman with a sigh, "I
suppose we must manage to find it."
Chapter Five
Ozma's Friends Are Perplexed
"Really," said Dorothy, looking solemn, this is very
s'prising. We can't find even a shadow of Ozma anywhere
in the Em'rald City; and, wherever she's gone, she's
taken her Magic Picture with her."
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.
"That's nonsense," said Dorothy. "Why, ev'ryone loves
Ozma. There isn't a person in the Land of Oz who would
steal a single thing she owns."
"Huh!" replied the Patchwork Girl. "You don't know
ev'ry person in the Land of Oz."
"Why don't I?"
"It's a big country," said Scraps. "There are cracks
and corners in it that even Ozma doesn't know of."
"The Patchwork Girl's just daffy," declared Betsy.
"No; she's right about that," replied Dorothy
thoughtfully. "There are lots of queer people in this
fairyland who never come near Ozma or the Em'rald City.
I've seen some of 'em myself, girls; but I haven't seen
all, of course, and there might be some wicked persons
left in Oz, yet, though I think the wicked witches have
all been destroyed."
Just then the Wooden Sawhorse dashed into the
courtyard with the Wizard of Oz on his back.
"Have you found Ozma?" cried the Wizard when the
Sawhorse stopped beside them.
"Not yet," said Dorothy. "Doesn't Glinda know where
she is?"
"No. Glinda's Book of Records and all her magic
instruments are gone. Someone must have stolen them."
"Goodness me!" exclaimed Dorothy, in alarm. "This is
the biggest steal I ever heard of. Who do you think did
it, Wizard?"
"I've no idea," he answered. "But I have come to get
my own bag of magic tools and carry them to Glinda. She
is so much more powerful than I that she may be able to
discover the truth by means of my magic, quicker and
better than I could myself."
"Hurry, then," said Dorothy, "for we're all getting
terr'bly worried."
The Wizard rushed away to his rooms but presently
came back with a long, sad face.
"It's gone!" he said.
"What's gone?" asked Scraps.
"My black bag of magic tools. Someone must have
stolen it!"
They looked at one another in amazement.
"This thing is getting desperate," continued the
Wizard. "All the magic that belongs to Ozma, or to
Glinda, or to me, has been stolen."
"Do you suppose Ozma could have taken them, herself,
for some purpose?" asked Betsy.
"No, indeed," declared the Wizard. "I suspect some
enemy has stolen Ozma and, for fear we would follow and
recapture her, has taken all our magic away from us."
"How dreadful!" cried Dorothy. "The idea of anyone
wanting to injure our dear Ozma! Can't we do anything
to find her, Wizard?"
"I'll ask Glinda. I must go straight back to her and
tell her that my magic tools have also disappeared. The
good Sorceress will be greatly shocked, I know."
With this he jumped upon the back of the Sawhorse
again and the quaint steed, which never tired, dashed
away at fall speed.
The three girls were very much disturbed in mind.
Even the Patchwork Girl was more quiet than usual and
seemed to realize that a great calamity had overtaken
them all. Ozma was a fairy of considerable power and
all the creatures in Oz, as well as the three mortal
girls from the outside world, looked upon her as their
protector and friend. The idea of their beautiful girl
Ruler's being overpowered by an enemy and dragged from
her splendid palace a captive was too astonishing for
them to comprehend, at first. Yet what other
explanation of the mystery could there be?
"Ozma wouldn't go away willingly, without letting us
know about it," asserted Dorothy; "and she wouldn't
steal Glinda's Great Book of Records, or the Wizard's
magic, 'cause she could get them any time, just asking
for 'em. I'm sure some wicked person has done all
this."
"Someone in the Land of Oz?" asked Trot.
"Of course. No one could get across the Deadly
Desert, you know, and no one but an Oz person could
know about the Magic Picture and the Book of Records
and the Wizard's magic, or where they were kept, and so
be able to steal the whole outfit before we could stop
'em. It must be someone who lives in the Land of Oz."
"But who-who-who?" asked Scraps. "That's the
question. Who?"
"If we knew," replied Dorothy, severely, "we wouldn't
be standing here, doing nothing."
Just then two boys entered the courtyard and
approached the group of girls. One boy was dressed in
the fantastic Munchkin costume -- a blue jacket and
knickerbockers, blue leather shoes and a blue hat with
a high peak and tiny silver bells dangling from its rim
-- and this was Ojo the Lucky, who had once come from
the Munchkin Country of Oz and now lived in the Emerald
City. The other boy was an American, from Philadelphia,
and had lately found his way to Oz in the company of
Trot and Cap'n Bill. His name was Button-Bright; that
is, everyone called him by that name, and knew no
other.
Button-Bright was not quite as big as the Munchkin
boy, but he wore the same kind of clothes, only they
were of different colors. As the two came up to the
girls, arm in arm, Button-Bright remarked:
"Hello, Dorothy. They say Ozma is lost."
"Who says so?" she asked.
"Ev'rybody's talking about it, in the City," he
replied.
"I wonder how the people found it out?" Dorothy
asked.
"I know," said Ojo. "Jellia Jamb told them. She has
been asking everywhere if anyone has seen Ozma."
"That's too bad," observed Dorothy, frowning.
"Why?" asked Button-Bright.
"There wasn't any use making all our people unhappy,
till we were dead certain that Ozma can't be found."
"Pshaw," said Button-Bright, "It's nothing to get
lost. I've been lost lots of times."
"That's true," admitted Trot, who knew that the boy
had a habit of getting lost and then finding himself
again; "but it's diff'rent with Ozma. She's the Ruler
of all this big fairyland and we're 'fraid that the
reason she's lost is because somebody has stolen her
away."
"Only wicked people steal," said Ojo. "Do you know of
any wicked people in Oz, Dorothy?"
"No," she replied.
"They're here, though," cried Scraps, dancing up to
them and then circling around the group. Ozma's stolen;
someone in Oz stole her; only wicked people steal; so
someone in Oz is wicked!"
There was no denying the truth of this statement. The
faces of all of them were now solemn and sorrowful.
"One thing is sure," said Button-Bright, after a
time, "if Ozma has been stolen, someone ought to find
her and punish the thief."
"There may be a lot of thieves," suggested Trot
gravely, "and in this fairy country they don t seem to
have any soldiers or policemen."
"There is one soldier," claimed Dorothy. "He has
green whiskers and a gun and is a Major-General; but no
one is afraid of either his gun or his whiskers, 'cause
he's so tender-hearted that he wouldn't hurt a fly."
"Well, a soldier's a soldier," said Betsy, "and
perhaps he'd hurt a wicked thief if he wouldn't hurt a
fly. Where is he?"
"He went fishing about two months ago and hasn't come
back yet," explained Button-Bright.
"Then I can't see that he will be of much use to us
in this trouble," sighed little Trot. "But p'raps Ozma,
who is a fairy, can get away from the thieves without
any help from anybody."
"She might be able to," admitted Dorothy,
reflectively, "but if she had the power to do that, it
isn't likely she'd have let herself be stolen. So the
thieves must have been even more powerful in magic than
our Ozma."
There was no denying this argument and, although they
talked the matter over all the rest of that day, they
were unable to decide how Ozma had been stolen against
her will or who had committed the dreadful deed.
Toward evening the Wizard came back, riding slowly
upon the Sawhorse because he felt discouraged and
- beginning [bi´giniŋ]
n.开始，开端；起源 (初中英语单词) - whisper [´wispə] v.耳语 n.低语；沙沙声 (初中英语单词)
- stolen [´stəulən] steal 的过去分词 (初中英语单词)
- ashamed [ə´ʃeimd] a.惭愧；不好意思 (初中英语单词)
- solemn [´sɔləm] a.严肃的；隆重的 (初中英语单词)
- wherever [weər´evə] conj.无论在哪里 (初中英语单词)
- standing [´stændiŋ] n.持续 a.直立的 (初中英语单词)
- wicked [´wikid] a.邪恶的；不道德的 (初中英语单词)
- wooden [´wudn] a.木制的；呆板的 (初中英语单词)
- suspect [´sʌspekt, sə´spekt] v.怀疑；觉得 n.嫌疑犯 (初中英语单词)
- injure [´indʒə] vt.伤害，损害，毁坏 (初中英语单词)
- considerable [kən´sidərəbəl] a.重要的；值得重视 (初中英语单词)
- captive [´kæptiv] n.俘虏；捕获物 (初中英语单词)
- mystery [´mistəri] n.神秘；秘密；故弄玄虚 (初中英语单词)
- costume [´kɔstju:m] n.服装(试样)；女装 (初中英语单词)
- jacket [´dʒækit] n.茄克衫；外套 (初中英语单词)
- lately [´leitli] ad.近来，不久前 (初中英语单词)
- everyone [´evriwʌn] pron.=everybody 每人 (初中英语单词)
- punish [´pʌniʃ] vt.(惩)罚；痛击；折磨 (初中英语单词)
- argument [´ɑ:gjumənt] n.辩论；争论；论证 (初中英语单词)
- unable [ʌn´eibəl] a.不能的；无能为力的 (初中英语单词)
- dreadful [´dredful] a.可怕的；讨厌的 (初中英语单词)
- courtyard [´kɔ:tjɑ:d] n.院子，庭院 (高中英语单词)
- quaint [kweint] a.离奇的；奇妙的 (高中英语单词)
- astonishing [əs´tɔniʃiŋ] a.令人惊讶的 (高中英语单词)
- comprehend [,kɔmpri´hend] vt.了解；领会；包含 (高中英语单词)
- outfit [´aut,fit] n.装备 vt.供给；装备 (高中英语单词)
- severely [si´viəli] ad.剧烈地；严格地 (高中英语单词)
- fantastic [fæn´tæstik] a.奇异的；荒谬的 (高中英语单词)
- finding [´faindiŋ] n.发现物；判断；结果 (高中英语单词)
- seeming [´si:miŋ] a.表面上的 n.外观 (英语四级单词)
- cookie [´kuki] n.家常小甜饼 (英语四级单词)
- wizard [´wizəd] n.术士；男巫 (英语四级单词)
- calamity [kə´læmiti] n.灾害，大灾难 (英语四级单词)
- willingly [´wiliŋli] ad.情愿地，乐意地 (英语四级单词)
- fairyland [´fɛərilænd] n.仙境，奇境 (英语四级单词)
- fishing [´fiʃiŋ] n.钓鱼；捕鱼；渔业 (英语四级单词)
- thieves [θi:vz] thief的复数 (英语四级单词)
文章标签:名著
章节正文
京公网安备 11011202003401号
