a brook and sprinkled
the earth.

"He will sprout very soon," said the Prince, "and grow into a large
bush, from which we shall in time be able to pick several very good
sorcerers."

"Do all your people grow on bushes?" asked the boy.

"Certainly," was the reply. "Do not all people grow upon bushes where
you came from, on the outside of the earth."

"Not that I ever heard of."

"How strange! But if you will come with me to one of our folk gardens I
will show you the way we grow in the Land of the Mangaboos."

It appeared that these odd people, while they were able to walk through
the air with ease, usually moved upon the ground in the ordinary way.
There were no stairs in their houses, because they did not need them,
but on a level surface they generally walked just as we do.

The little party of strangers now followed the Prince across a few more
of the glass bridges and along several paths until they came to a garden
enclosed by a high hedge. Jim had refused to leave the field of grass,
where he was engaged in busily eating; so the Wizard got out of the
buggy and joined Zeb and Dorothy, and the kitten followed demurely at
their heels.

Inside the hedge they came upon row after row of large and handsome
plants with broad leaves gracefully curving until their points nearly
reached the ground. In the center of each plant grew a daintily dressed
Mangaboo, for the clothing of all these creatures grew upon them and was
attached to their bodies.

The growing Mangaboos were of all sizes, from the blossom that had just
turned into a wee baby to the full-grown and almost ripe man or woman.
On some of the bushes might be seen a bud, a blossom, a baby, a
half-grown person and a ripe one; but even those ready to pluck were
motionless and silent, as if devoid of life. This sight explained to
Dorothy why she had seen no children among the Mangaboos, a thing she
had until now been unable to account for.

"Our people do not acquire their real life until they leave their
bushes," said the Prince. "You will notice they are all attached to the
plants by the soles of their feet, and when they are quite ripe they are
easily separated from the stems and at once attain the powers of motion
and speech. So while they grow they cannot be said to really live, and
they must be picked before they can become good citizens."

"How long do you live, after you are picked?" asked Dorothy.

"That depends upon the care we take of ourselves