ul.

[Illustration]

"I'd like to meet that Wizard of Oz," remarked Cayke, as they walked
along a path. "If he could give a Scarecrow brains he might be able to
find my dishpan."

"Poof!" grunted the Frogman scornfully; "I am greater than any wizard.
Depend on _me_. If your dishpan is anywhere in the world I am sure to
find it."

"If you do not, my heart will be broken," declared the Cookie Cook in a
sorrowful voice.

For a while the Frogman walked on in silence. Then he asked:

"Why do you attach so much importance to a dishpan?"

"It is the greatest treasure I possess," replied the woman. "It belonged
to my mother and to all my grandmothers, since the beginning of time. It
is, I believe, the very oldest thing in all the Yip Country--or was
while it was there--and," she added, dropping her voice to an awed
whisper, "it has magic powers!"

"In what way?" inquired the Frogman, seeming to be surprised at this
statement.

"Whoever has owned that dishpan has been a good cook, for one thing. No
one else is able to make such good cookies as I have cooked, as you and
all the Yips know. Yet, the very morning after my dishpan was stolen, I
tried to make a batch of cookies and they burned up in the oven! I made
another batch that proved too tough to eat, and I was so ashamed of them
that I buried them in the ground. Even the third batch of cookies, which
I brought with me in my basket, were pretty poor stuff and no better
than any woman could make who does not own my diamond-studded gold
dishpan. In fact, my good Frogman, Cayke the Cookie Cook will never be
able to cook good cookies again until her magic dishpan is restored to
her."

"In that case," said the Frogman with a sigh, "I suppose we must manage
to find it."

[Illustration]

Ozma's Friends Are Perplexed

[Illustration]

CHAPTER 5

"Really," said Dorothy, looking solemn, "this is very s'prising. We
can't find even a shadow of Ozma anywhere in the Em'rald City; and,
wherever she's gone, she's taken her Magic Picture with her."

She was standing in the courtyard of the palace with Betsy and Trot,
while Scraps, the Patchwork Girl, danced around the group, her hair
flying in the wind.

"P'raps," said Scraps, still dancing, "someone has stolen Ozma."

"Oh, they'd never dare do that!" exclaimed tiny Trot.

"And stolen the Magic Picture, too, so the thing can't tell where she
is," added the Patchwork Girl.

"That's nonsense," said Dorothy. "W