Which Spoiled April 9th.

She then went to the next stone, which read:

Here Lies the Mortal Part of
JACK PUMPKINHEAD
Which Spoiled October 2nd.

On the third stone were carved these words:

Here Lies the Mortal Part of
JACK PUMPKINHEAD
Which Spoiled January 24th.

"Poor Jack!" sighed Dorothy. "I'm sorry he had to die in three parts,
for I hoped to see him again."

"So you shall," declared the Tin Woodman, "since he is still alive. Come
with me to his house, for Jack is now a farmer and lives in this very
pumpkin field."

They walked over to a monstrous big, hollow pumpkin which had a door and
windows cut through the rind. There was a stovepipe running through the
stem, and six steps had been built leading up to the front door.

They walked up to this door and looked in. Seated on a bench was a man
clothed in a spotted shirt, a red vest, and faded blue trousers, whose
body was merely sticks of wood, jointed clumsily together. On his neck
was set a round, yellow pumpkin, with a face carved on it such as a boy
often carves on a jack-lantern.

This queer man was engaged in snapping slippery pumpkin-seeds with his
wooden fingers, trying to hit a target on the other side of the room
with them. He did not know he had visitors until Dorothy exclaimed:

"Why, it's Jack Pumpkinhead himself!"

He turned and saw them, and at once came forward to greet the little
Kansas girl and Nick Chopper, and to be introduced to their new friends.

Button-Bright was at first rather shy with the quaint Pumpkinhead, but
Jack's face was so jolly and smiling--being carved that way--that the
boy soon grew to like him.

"I thought, a while ago, that you were buried in three parts," said
Dorothy; "but now I see you're just the same as ever."

"Not quite the same, my dear, for my mouth is a little more one-sided
than it used to be; but pretty nearly the same. I've a new head, and
this is the fourth one I've owned since Ozma first made me and brought
me to life by sprinkling me with the Magic Powder."

"What became of the other heads, Jack?"

"They spoiled and I buried them, for they were not even fit for pies.
Each time Ozma has carved me a new head just like the old one, and as my
body is by far the largest part of me I am still Jack Pumpkinhead, no
matter how often I change my upper end. Once we had a dreadful time to
find another pumpkin, as they were out of season, and so I was obliged