our poetry, Scraps," said Ojo.

"It's just nonsense!" declared the Glass Cat.

"But it's good advice for the foolish," said the donkey, admiringly.
"Listen to my partner, and you can't go wrong."

Said the owl in a grumbling voice:

"Patchwork Girl has come to life;
No one's sweetheart, no one's wife;
Lacking sense and loving fun,
She'll be snubbed by everyone."

"Quite a compliment! Quite a compliment, I declare," exclaimed the
donkey, turning to look at Scraps. "You are certainly a wonder, my
dear, and I fancy you'd make a splendid pincushion. If you belonged to
me, I'd wear smoked glasses when I looked at you."

"Why?" asked the Patchwork Girl.

"Because you are so gay and gaudy."

"It is my beauty that dazzles you," she asserted. "You Munchkin people
all strut around in your stupid blue color, while I--"

"You are wrong in calling me a Munchkin," interrupted the donkey, "for
I was born in the Land of Mo and came to visit the Land of Oz on the
day it was shut off from all the rest of the world. So here I am
obliged to stay, and I confess it is a very pleasant country to live
in."

"Hoot-ti-toot!" cried the owl;

"Ojo's searching for a charm,
'Cause Unc Nunkie's come to harm.
Charms are scarce; they're hard to get;
Ojo's got a job, you bet!"

"Is the owl so very foolish?" asked the boy.

"Extremely so," replied the donkey. "Notice what vulgar expressions she
uses. But I admire the owl for the reason that she is positively
foolish. Owls are supposed to be so very wise, generally, that a
foolish one is unusual, and you perhaps know that anything or anyone
unusual is sure to be interesting to the wise."

The owl flapped its wings again, muttering these words:

"It's hard to be a glassy cat--
No cat can be more hard than that;
She's so transparent, every act
Is clear to us, and that's a fact."

"Have you noticed my pink brains?" inquired Bungle, proudly. "You can
see 'em work."

"Not in the daytime," said the donkey. "She can't see very well by day,
poor thing. But her advice is excellent. I advise you all to follow it."

"The owl hasn't given us any advice, as yet," the boy declared.

"No? Then what do you call all those sweet poems?"

"Just foolishness," replied Ojo. "Scraps does the same thing."

"Foolishness! Of course! To be sure! The Foolish Owl must be foolish or
she wouldn't be the Foolish Owl. You are very complimentary to my
par