g. That's another foolish question. A little reflection will
convince you that I have had nothing to think about, except the boards
on the inside of the cupboard door, and it didn't take me long to think
of everything about those boards that could be thought of. Then, of
course, I quit thinking."

"And are you happy?"

"Happy? What's that?"

"Don't you know what happiness is?" inquired the Tin Woodman.

"I haven't the faintest idea whether it's round or square, or black or
white, or what it is. And, if you will pardon my lack of interest in it,
I will say that I don't care."

The Tin Woodman was much puzzled by these answers. His traveling
companions had grouped themselves at his back, and had fixed their eyes
on the Head and listened to the conversation with much interest, but
until now, they had not interrupted because they thought the Tin Woodman
had the best right to talk to his own head and renew acquaintance with
it.

But now the Tin Soldier remarked:

"I wonder if _my_ old head happens to be in any of these cupboards," and
he proceeded to open all the cupboard doors. But no other head was to be
found on any of the shelves.

"Oh, well; never mind," said Woot the Wanderer; "I can't imagine what
anyone wants of a cast-off head, anyhow."

"I can understand the Soldier's interest," asserted Polychrome, dancing
around the grimy workshop until her draperies formed a cloud around her
dainty form. "For sentimental reasons a man might like to see his old
head once more, just as one likes to revisit an old home."

"And then to kiss it good-bye," added the Scarecrow.

"I hope that tin thing won't try to kiss _me_ goodbye!" exclaimed the
Tin Woodman's former head. "And I don't see what right you folks have to
disturb my peace and comfort, either."

"You belong to me," the Tin Woodman declared.

"I do not!"

"You and I are one."

"We've been parted," asserted the Head. "It would be unnatural for me to
have any interest in a man made of tin. Please close the door and leave
me alone."

"I did not think that my old Head could be so disagreeable," said the
Emperor. "I--I'm quite ashamed of myself; meaning _you_."

"You ought to be glad that I've enough sense to know what my rights
are," retorted the Head. "In this cupboard I am leading a simple life,
peaceful and dignified, and when a mob of people in whom I am not
interested disturb me, _they_ are the disagreeable ones; not I."

With a sigh the Tin Woodman