ity, for Unc Nunkie has told me that
Ozma, our girl Ruler, is very lovely and kind, and tries to help
everyone who is in trouble. But they say there are many dangers lurking
on the road to the great Fairy City, and so we must be very careful."

"I hope nothing will break me," said the Glass Cat, in a nervous voice.
"I'm a little brittle, you know, and can't stand many hard knocks."

"If anything should fade the colors of my lovely patches it would break
my heart," said the Patchwork Girl.

"I'm not sure you have a heart," Ojo reminded her.

"Then it would break my cotton," persisted Scraps. "Do you think they
are all fast colors, Ojo?" she asked anxiously.

"They seem fast enough when you run," he replied; and then, looking
ahead of them, he exclaimed: "Oh, what lovely trees!"

They were certainly pretty to look upon and the travelers hurried
forward to observe them more closely.

"Why, they are not trees at all," said Scraps; "they are just monstrous
plants."

That is what they really were: masses of great broad leaves which rose
from the ground far into the air, until they towered twice as high as
the top of the Patchwork Girl's head, who was a little taller than Ojo.
The plants formed rows on both sides of the road and from each plant
rose a dozen or more of the big broad leaves, which swayed continually
from side to side, although no wind was blowing. But the most curious
thing about the swaying leaves was their color. They seemed to have a
general groundwork of blue, but here and there other colors glinted at
times through the blue--gorgeous yellows, turning to pink, purple,
orange and scarlet, mingled with more sober browns and grays--each
appearing as a blotch or stripe anywhere on a leaf and then
disappearing, to be replaced by some other color of a different shape.
The changeful coloring of the great leaves was very beautiful, but it
was bewildering, as well, and the novelty of the scene drew our
travelers close to the line of plants, where they stood watching them
with rapt interest.

Suddenly a leaf bent lower than usual and touched the Patchwork Girl.
Swiftly it enveloped her in its embrace, covering her completely in its
thick folds, and then it swayed back upon its stem.

"Why, she's gone!" gasped Ojo, in amazement, and listening carefully he
thought he could hear the muffled screams of Scraps coming from the
center of the folded leaf. But, before he could think what he ought to
do to save her,