of any wicked
people in Oz, Dorothy?"

"No," she replied.

"They're here, though," cried Scraps, dancing up to them and then
circling around the group. "Ozma's stolen; someone in Oz stole her;
only wicked people steal; so someone in Oz is wicked!"

There was no denying the truth of this statement. The faces of all of
them were now solemn and sorrowful. "One thing is sure," said
Button-Bright after a time, "if Ozma has been stolen, someone ought to
find her and punish the thief."

"There may be a lot of thieves," suggested Trot gravely, "and in this
fairy country they don't seem to have any soldiers or policemen."

"There is one soldier," claimed Dorothy.

"He has green whiskers and a gun and is a Major-General, but no one is
afraid of either his gun or his whiskers, 'cause he's so tender-hearted
that he wouldn't hurt a fly."

"Well, a soldier is a soldier," said Betsy, "and perhaps he'd hurt a
wicked thief if he wouldn't hurt a fly. Where is he?"

"He went fishing about two months ago and hasn't come back yet,"
explained Button-Bright.

"Then I can't see that he will be of much use to us in this trouble,"
sighed little Trot. "But p'raps Ozma, who is a fairy, can get away
from the thieves without any help from anyone."

"She MIGHT be able to," answered Dorothy reflectively, "but if she had
the power to do that, it isn't likely she'd have let herself be stolen.
So the thieves must have been even more powerful in magic than our
Ozma."

There was no denying this argument, and although they talked the matter
over all the rest of that day, they were unable to decide how Ozma had
been stolen against her will or who had committed the dreadful deed.
Toward evening the Wizard came back, riding slowly upon the Sawhorse
because he felt discouraged and perplexed. Glinda came later in her
aerial chariot drawn by twenty milk-white swans, and she also seemed
worried and unhappy. More of Ozma's friends joined them, and that
evening they all had a big talk together. "I think," said Dorothy, "we
ought to start out right away in search of our dear Ozma. It seems
cruel for us to live comf'tably in her palace while she is a pris'ner
in the power of some wicked enemy."

"Yes," agreed Glinda the Sorceress, "someone ought to search for her. I
cannot go myself, because I must work hard in order to create some new
instruments of sorcery by means of which I may rescue our fair Ruler.
But if you can find her in the meanti