h," said Tiktok, "that I was stuffed with straw, as
you are. It is hard to be made of cop-per."

"I have no reason to complain of my lot," replied the Scarecrow. "A
little fresh straw, now and then, makes me as good as new. But I can
never be the polished gentleman that my poor departed friend, the Tin
Woodman, was."

You may be sure the royal children of Ev and their Queen mother were
delighted at seeing again their beloved country; and when the towers of
the palace of Ev came into view they could not forbear cheering at the
sight. Little Evring, riding in front of Dorothy, was so overjoyed
that he took a curious tin whistle from his pocket and blew a shrill
blast that made the Sawhorse leap and prance in sudden alarm.

"What is that?" asked Billina, who had been obliged to flutter her
wings in order to keep her seat upon the head of the frightened
Sawhorse.

"That's my whistle," said Prince Evring, holding it out upon his hand.

It was in the shape of a little fat pig, made of tin and painted green.
The whistle was in the tail of the pig.

"Where did you get it?" asked the yellow hen, closely examining the toy
with her bright eyes.

"Why, I picked it up in the Nome King's palace, while Dorothy was
making her guesses, and I put it in my pocket," answered the little
Prince.

Billina laughed; or at least she made the peculiar cackle that served
her for a laugh.

"No wonder I couldn't find the Tin Woodman," she said; "and no wonder
the magic belt didn't make him appear, or the King couldn't find him,
either!"

"What do you mean?" questioned Dorothy.

"Why, the Prince had him in his pocket," cried Billina, cackling again.

"I did not!" protested little Evring. "I only took the whistle."

"Well, then, watch me," returned the hen, and reaching out a claw she
touched the whistle and said "Ev."

Swish!

"Good afternoon," said the Tin Woodman, taking off his funnel cap and
bowing to Dorothy and the Prince. "I think I must have been asleep for
the first time since I was made of tin, for I do not remember our
leaving the Nome King."

"You have been enchanted," answered the girl, throwing an arm around
her old friend and hugging him tight in her joy. "But it's all right,
now."

"I want my whistle!" said the little Prince, beginning to cry.

"Hush!" cautioned Billina. "The whistle is lost, but you may have
another when you get home."

The Scarecrow had fairly thrown himself upon the bosom of his ol