d the Patchwork Girl.

"Never mind," added the cat. "I can't see that old Unc and Margolotte
are worth all this trouble, anyhow."

But Ojo did not feel that way. He was so disheartened that he sat down
upon a stump and began to cry.

The Woozy looked at the boy thoughtfully.

"Why don't you take me with you?" asked the beast. "Then, when at last
you get to the Magician's house, he can surely find some way to pull
out those three hairs."

Ojo was overjoyed at this suggestion.

"That's it!" he cried, wiping away the tears and springing to his feet
with a smile. "If I take the three hairs to the Magician, it won't
matter if they are still in your body."

"It can't matter in the least," agreed the Woozy.

"Come on, then," said the boy, picking up his basket; "let us start at
once. I have several other things to find, you know."

But the Glass Cat gave a little laugh and inquired in her scornful way:

"How do you intend to get the beast out of this forest?"

That puzzled them all for a time.

"Let us go to the fence, and then we may find a way," suggested Scraps.
So they walked through the forest to the fence, reaching it at a point
exactly opposite that where they had entered the enclosure.

"How did you get in?" asked the Woozy.

"We climbed over," answered Ojo.

"I can't do that," said the beast. "I'm a very swift runner, for I can
overtake a honey-bee as it flies; and I can jump very high, which is
the reason they made such a tall fence to keep me in. But I can't climb
at all, and I'm too big to squeeze between the bars of the fence."

Ojo tried to think what to do.

"Can you dig?" he asked.

"No," answered the Woozy, "for I have no claws. My feet are quite flat
on the bottom of them. Nor can I gnaw away the boards, as I have no
teeth."

"You're not such a terrible creature, after all," remarked Scraps.

"You haven't heard me growl, or you wouldn't say that," declared the
Woozy. "When I growl, the sound echoes like thunder all through the
valleys and woodlands, and children tremble with fear, and women cover
their heads with their aprons, and big men run and hide. I suppose
there is nothing in the world so terrible to listen to as the growl of
a Woozy."

"Please don't growl, then," begged Ojo, earnestly.

"There is no danger of my growling, for I am not angry. Only when angry
do I utter my fearful, ear-splitting, soul-shuddering growl. Also, when
I am angry, my eyes flash fire, whether I growl