n as much deference as if she had been a queen.

"All the same, Your Majesty," said Cayke to Ozma, day after day with
tiresome repetition, "I hope you will soon find my jeweled dishpan, for
never can I be quite happy without it."

CHAPTER 26

DOROTHY FORGIVES

The gray dove which had once been Ugu the Shoemaker sat on its tree in
the far Quadling Country and moped, chirping dismally and brooding over
its misfortunes. After a time, the Scarecrow and the Tin Woodman came
along and sat beneath the tree, paying no heed to the mutterings of the
gray dove. The Tin Woodman took a small oilcan from his tin pocket and
carefully oiled his tin joints with it.

While he was thus engaged, the Scarecrow remarked, "I feel much better,
dear comrade, since we found that heap of nice, clean straw and you
stuffed me anew with it."

"And I feel much better now that my joints are oiled," returned the Tin
Woodman with a sigh of pleasure. "You and I, friend Scarecrow, are
much more easily cared for than those clumsy meat people, who spend
half their time dressing in fine clothes and who must live in splendid
dwellings in order to be contented and happy. You and I do not eat,
and so we are spared the dreadful bother of getting three meals a day.
Nor do we waste half our lives in sleep, a condition that causes the
meat people to lose all consciousness and become as thoughtless and
helpless as logs of wood."

"You speak truly," responded the Scarecrow, tucking some wisps of straw
into his breast with his padded fingers. "I often feel sorry for the
meat people, many of whom are my friends. Even the beasts are happier
than they, for they require less to make them content. And the birds
are the luckiest creatures of all, for they can fly swiftly where they
will and find a home at any place they care to perch. Their food
consists of seeds and grains they gather from the fields, and their
drink is a sip of water from some running brook. If I could not be a
Scarecrow or a Tin Woodman, my next choice would be to live as a bird
does."

The gray dove had listened carefully to this speech and seemed to find
comfort in it, for it hushed its moaning. And just then the Tin
Woodman discovered Cayke's dishpan, which was on the ground quite near
to him. "Here is a rather pretty utensil," he said, taking it in his
tin hand to examine it, "but I would not care to own it. Whoever
fashioned it of gold and covered it with diamonds did no