no apples--nothing but bread?"

"All," said Unc, again stroking his beard as he gazed from the window.

The little boy brought the stool and sat beside his uncle, munching the
dry bread slowly and seeming in deep thought.

"Nothing grows in our yard but the bread tree," he mused, "and there
are only two more loaves on that tree; and they're not ripe yet. Tell
me, Unc; why are we so poor?"

The old Munchkin turned and looked at Ojo. He had kindly eyes, but he
hadn't smiled or laughed in so long that the boy had forgotten that Unc
Nunkie could look any other way than solemn. And Unc never spoke any
more words than he was obliged to, so his little nephew, who lived
alone with him, had learned to understand a great deal from one word.

"Why are we so poor, Unc?" repeated the boy.

"Not," said the old Munchkin.

"I think we are," declared Ojo. "What have we got?"

"House," said Unc Nunkie.

"I know; but everyone in the Land of Oz has a place to live. What else,
Unc?"

"Bread."

"I'm eating the last loaf that's ripe. There; I've put aside your
share, Unc. It's on the table, so you can eat it when you get hungry.
But when that is gone, what shall we eat, Unc?"

The old man shifted in his chair but merely shook his head.

"Of course," said Ojo, who was obliged to talk because his uncle would
not, "no one starves in the Land of Oz, either. There is plenty for
everyone, you know; only, if it isn't just where you happen to be, you
must go where it is."

The aged Munchkin wriggled again and stared at his small nephew as if
disturbed by his argument.

"By to-morrow morning," the boy went on, "we must go where there is
something to eat, or we shall grow very hungry and become very unhappy."

"Where?" asked Unc.

"Where shall we go? I don't know, I'm sure," replied Ojo. "But you must
know, Unc. You must have traveled, in your time, because you're so old.
I don't remember it, because ever since I could remember anything we've
lived right here in this lonesome, round house, with a little garden
back of it and the thick woods all around. All I've ever seen of the
great Land of Oz, Unc dear, is the view of that mountain over at the
south, where they say the Hammerheads live--who won't let anybody go by
them--and that mountain at the north, where they say nobody lives."

"One," declared Unc, correcting him.

"Oh, yes; one family lives there, I've heard. That's the Crooked
Magician, who is named Dr. Pipt, and his wif