ied, he said:

"How happened your Majesty to be made of tin, and still be alive?"

"That," replied the tin man, "is a long story."

"The longer the better," said the boy. "Won't you please tell me the
story?"

"If you desire it," promised the Tin Woodman, leaning back in his tin
throne and crossing his tin legs. "I haven't related my history in a
long while, because everyone here knows it nearly as well as I do. But
you, being a stranger, are no doubt curious to learn how I became so
beautiful and prosperous, so I will recite for your benefit my strange
adventures."

"Thank you," said Woot the Wanderer, still eating.

"I was not always made of tin," began the Emperor, "for in the
beginning I was a man of flesh and bone and blood and lived in the
Munchkin Country of Oz. There I was, by trade, a woodchopper, and
contributed my share to the comfort of the Oz people by chopping up the
trees of the forest to make firewood, with which the women would cook
their meals while the children warmed themselves about the fires. For
my home I had a little hut by the edge of the forest, and my life was
one of much content until I fell in love with a beautiful Munchkin girl
who lived not far away."

"What was the Munchkin girl's name?" asked Woot.

"Nimmie Amee. This girl, so fair that the sunsets blushed when their
rays fell upon her, lived with a powerful witch who wore silver shoes
and who had made the poor child her slave. Nimmie Amee was obliged to
work from morning till night for the old Witch of the East, scrubbing
and sweeping her hut and cooking her meals and washing her dishes. She
had to cut firewood, too, until I found her one day in the forest and
fell in love with her. After that, I always brought plenty of firewood
to Nimmie Amee and we became very friendly. Finally I asked her to
marry me, and she agreed to do so, but the Witch happened to overhear
our conversation and it made her very angry, for she did not wish her
slave to be taken away from her. The Witch commanded me never to come
near Nimmie Amee again, but I told her I was my own master and would do
as I pleased, not realizing that this was a careless way to speak to a
Witch.

"The next day, as I was cutting wood in the forest, the cruel Witch
enchanted my axe, so that it slipped and cut off my right leg."

"How dreadful!" cried Woot the Wanderer.

"Yes, it was a seeming misfortune," agreed the Tin Man, "for a
one-legged woodchopper is of little use