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“With pleasure,” she answered, and brought a towel at once. Then the Tin Woodman wept for several minutes, and she watched the tears carefully and wiped them away with the towel. When he had finished he thanked her kindly and oiled himself thoroughly with his jewelled oil-can, to guard against mishap.

The Scarecrow was now the ruler of the Emerald City, and although he was not a Wizard the people were proud of him. “For,” they said, “there is not another city in all the world that is ruled by a stuffed man.” And, so far as they knew, they were quite right.

The morning after the balloon had gone up with Oz the four travellers met in the Throne Room and talked matters over. The Scarecrow sat in the big throne and the others stood respectfully before him.

“We are not so unlucky,” said the new ruler; “for this Palace and the Emerald City belong to us, and we can do just as we please. When I remember that a short time ago I was up on a pole in a farmer’s cornfield, and that I am now the ruler of this beautiful City, I am quite satisfied with my lot.”

“I also,” said the Tin Woodman, “am well pleased with my new heart; and, really, that was the only thing I wished in all the world.”

“For my part, I am content in knowing I am as brave as any beast that ever lived, if not braver,” said the Lion, modestly.

“The Scarecrow sat on the big throne.”

“If Dorothy would only be contented to live in the Emerald City,” continued the Scarecrow, “we might all be happy together.”

“But I don’t want to live here,” cried Dorothy. “I want to go to Kansas, and live with Aunt Em and Uncle Henry.”

“Well, then, what can be done?” enquired the Woodman.

The Scarecrow decided to think, and he thought so hard that the pins and needles began to stick out of his brains. Finally he said:

“Why not call the Winged Monkeys, and asked them to carry you over the desert?”

“I never thought of that!” said Dorothy, joyfully. “It’s just the thing. I’ll go at once for the Golden Cap.”

When she brought it into the Throne Room she spoke the magic words, and soon the band of Winged Monkeys flew in through an open window and stood beside her.

“This is the second time you have called us,” said the Monkey King, bowing before the little girl. “What do you wish?”

“I want you to fly with me to Kansas,” said Dorothy.

But the Monkey King shook his head.

“That cannot be done,” he said. “We belong to this country alone, and cannot leave it. There has never been a Winged Monkey in Kansas yet, and I suppose there never will be, for they don’t belong there. We shall be glad to serve you in any way in our power, but we cannot cross the desert. Good-bye.”

And with another bow the Monkey King spread his wings and flew away through the window, followed by all his band.

Dorothy was almost ready to cry with disappointment.

“I have wasted the charm of the Golden Cap to no purpose,” she said, “for the Winged Monkeys cannot help me.”

“It is certainly too bad!” said the tender hearted Woodman.

The Scarecrow was thinking again, and his head bulged out so horribly that Dorothy feared it would burst.

“Let us call in the soldier with the green whiskers,” he said, “and ask his advice.”

So the soldier was summoned and entered the Throne Room timidly, for while Oz was alive he never was allowed to come further than the door.

“This little girl,” said the Scarecrow to the soldier, “wishes to cross the desert. How can she do so?”

“I cannot tell,” answered the soldier; “for nobody has ever crossed the desert, unless it is Oz himself.”

“Is there no one who can help me?” asked Dorothy, earnestly.

“Glinda might,” he suggested.

“Who is Glinda?” enquired the Scarecrow.

“The Witch of the South. She is the most powerful of all the Witches, and rules over the Quadlings. Besides, her castle stands on the edge of the desert, so she may know a way to cross it.”

“Glinda is a good witch, isn’t she?” asked the child.

“The Quadlings think she is good,” said the soldier,