a circle on the floor, with one for the
Scarecrow in the center, and with a warning finger on his lips placed
himself behind his Master.

"Tappy is right!" exclaimed the Scarecrow. "We must be as quiet as
possible, for a great danger hangs over me."

Without more ado, he told them of his amazing fall down the
beanstalk; of his adventures on Silver Island; of his sons and
grandsons and the Gheewizard's elixir which would turn him from a
lively Scarecrow into an old, old Emperor. All that I have told you,
he told Dorothy, up to the very point where his eldest son had bound
him to the bean pole and tied up poor, faithful Happy Toko. Happy, it
seems, had at last managed to free himself, and they were about to
make their escape when Dorothy and her party had fallen into the
throne room. The Comfortable Camel and Doubtful Dromedary lis-tened
politely at first, but worn out by their exciting adventures, fell
asleep in the middle of the story.

Nothing could have exceeded Dorothy's dismay to learn that the jolly
Scarecrow of Oz, whom she had discovered herself, was in reality
Chang Wang Woe, Emperor of Silver Island.

"Oh, this spoils everything!" wailed the little girl. (The thought of
Oz without the Scarecrow was unthinkable.) "It spoils everything! We
were going to adopt you and be your truly family. Weren't we?"

The Cowardly Lion nodded. "I was going to be your cousin," he mumbled
in a choked voice, "but now that you have a family of your own--" The
lion miserably slunk down beside Dorothy.

Sir Hokus looked fierce and rattled his sword, but he could think of
nothing that would help them out of their trouble.

"To-morrow there won't be any Scarecrow in Oz!" wailed Dorothy. "Oh,
dear! Oh, dear!" And the little girl began to cry as if her heart
would break.

"Stop! Stop!" begged the Scarecrow, while Sir Hokus awkwardly patted
Dorothy on the back. "I'd rather have you for my family any day. I
don't care a Kinkajou for being Emperor, and as for my sons, they are
unnatural villains who make my life miserable by telling me how old I
am!"

"Just like a poem I once read," said Dorothy, brightening up:

"You are old, Father William," the young man said,
"And your hair has become very white,
And yet you incessantly stand on your head!
Do you think, at your age, it is right?"

"That's it, that's it exactly!" exclaimed the Scarecrow as Dorothy
finished repeating the verse. "'You are old, Father