Dorothy and the Wizard Speak Strangely 
"OOOMPH!" puffed the Scarecrow.
"Whooosh!" gasped the Patchwork Girl.
Colliding suddenly as they met headlong at a sharp turn in the garden path, both the Scarecrow and the Patchwork Girl tumbled in a heap on the garden walk.
A moment later they had risen to sitting positions and were regarding each other comically.
The Patchwork Girl was a sorry sight. The high-grade cotton in her patchwork or "crazy quilt" body was bunched together in all the wrong places. After running and dancing a great deal that morning as she always did the Patchwork Girl's body had sagged and she had grown dumpy in appearance. When this happened she always lay down and rolled about until she had resumed her original plump shape. Now after her abrupt meeting with the Scarecrow her figure was in bad need of attention. The pointed toes of the red leather shoes sewn on her feet stood straight up. Her fingers, carefully formed and fitted with gold plates for finger nails, dug into the path on which she sat. Her shock of brown yarn hair hung down over her suspender button eyes and over her ears, which were made of thin plates of gold. Between the two rows of pearls sewn in her mouth for teeth, her scarlet plush tongue stuck out impudently at the Scarecrow.
The Patchwork Girl's brains were slightly mixed, containing among other qualities a dash of poesy, which accounted for her habit of breaking into rhymes and jingles when it was least expected. Now she was too surprised to speak. She had been brought to life in the first place by a magic powder, and since she was always jolly and good-natured, the Patchwork Girl was a prime favorite among the Oz folks. Nicknamed Scraps, the queer girl laughed at dignity and liked nothing better than to dance and sing. It was impossible to be downcast for long in the company of this merry, carefree creature.
"Why don't you look where you're going, Scraps?" said the Scarecrow ruefully, as he brushed his blue Munchkin farmer trousers.
"Now that you mention it," replied the Patchwork Girl reprovingly, "I don't have X-ray eyes, so I couldn't see through to the other side of the hedge where I was going."
"All right," said the Scarecrow, as he rose to his feet. "Please accept my humble apologies." The straw man gallantly assisted the Patchwork Girl to stand. "There's no harm done. The spill was as much my fault as it was yours. I was thinking so deeply that I didn't see you."
"What were you thinking about?" asked Scraps.
"Dorothy," replied the Scarecrow with a sigh. "Tell me, Scraps, have you seen her today?"
"Not once," answered the Patchwork Girl, combing her yarn hair with her fingers.
"Until a few minutes ago, I've spent the entire day with Aunt Em who sewed tight some of my stitches that were coming loose, sewed on my eyes with new thread, so I wouldn't lose 'em, and sewed on a new pair of red shoes, as I'd worn holes in my old ones. Now I'm as good as new!"
"Well," replied the Scarecrow, with his broad smile, "that may be true, but I'd say no matter in how good condition you are, you're always just sew-sew."
The smile quickly faded from the straw man's painted face as he continued seriously, "Scraps, I'm worried about Dorothy."
"Don't worry about Dorothy; she's able to take care of herself," said practical Scraps.
"You don't understand," explained the Scarecrow. "You see, yesterday after Ozma and Glinda left for the Forest of Burzee, Dorothy asked me to help her plan a banquet to celebrate their return. Dorothy wanted me to think up some ideas for the entertainment to accompany the dinner.
I agreed to set my famous brains to work on the problem and spent all last night in deep thought. This morning, bright and early, I rushed to Dorothy and started to tell her the ideas I had. You can imagine my surprise when Dorothy stared at me as though she hadn't the faintest idea what I was talking about, and then turned and walked away from me."
The Scarecrow paused, his brow wrinkled with perplexity. "I don't understand it," he continued. "It isn't like our sweet little Dorothy to be rude or absent-minded. She and the Wizard have been in Ozma's Chamber of Magic all day and I tried twice to see her, but each time she said she couldn't be disturbed."
"Come to think of it," replied Scraps quickly, "Aunt Em remarked that she couldn't understand why Dorothy hadn't been in to see her. Dorothy always visits her Aunt Em and Uncle Henry at least once a day. But maybe she's busy ruling while Ozma's away."
This explanation failed to satisfy the Scarecrow. He was gazing in the distance down the garden path. "Isn't that Trot and Cap'n Bill sitting on that bench over there?"
    "Whoop ti doodle who?
    Cap'n Bill and Trot     It is as like as not!"
sang the Patchwork Girl, turning a handspring and dancing toward the bench.
The Scarecrow followed, and he and Scraps were warmly greeted by little Trot and old Cap'n Bill. The Scarecrow repeated his story of the strange manner in which Dorothy had been acting, but neither Trot nor Cap'n Bill had seen Dorothy that day. The old sailor was silent for a moment, considering. Then he said:
"You know, it's funny; but I was tellin' Trot only a minute ago that the Wizard had me puzzled by the curious way he was behavin'."
"What do you mean?" asked the Scarecrow.
"Well," went on Cap'n Bill, "fer some time past I've been workin' on a boat fer Ozma an' her friends, so they could go sailin' on that lake jest outside the Emerald City. I had everythin' I needed 'cept fer some tools, so the Wizard lent me some o' his thet get the work done extra fast, 'cause they're magic tools. The boat's nearly finished a handsome craft if I do say so myself. All she needs to make 'er trim is a coat o' paint. I thought it would be nice to have 'er finished as a sort of surprise fer Ozma when she returns from this here fairy conclave, so I asked the Wizard to lend me his magic paint bucket and brush the bucket always stays full, no matter how much paint you use from it, an' the brush paints any color you want from the same bucket o' paint. Well, the Wizard jest gave me a funny sort o' look and walked away, mumblin' somethin' about bein' busy and havin' somethin'
important to do. 'Tain't like the Wizard at all. Somethin' ailin' him,"
concluded Cap'n Bill, wagging his grizzled head.
"Then it's the same thing that's ailing Dorothy," remarked the Scarecrow sagely.
The four old friends were silent, each turning over the problem in his own mind.
The bench on which Trot and Cap'n Bill were sitting was in front of a high hedge so high that none of them could see over it. On the other side of the thick hedge ran another garden path. Suddenly they heard footsteps, as if several people were hurrying down the garden path which was hidden from their view. While they listened, wondering who it could be, the footsteps halted just opposite them on the other side of the hedge. Before they could call out a greeting, they recognized the voice of the Wizard saying:
"We can talk here. There's no one about. Now tell me; why are we wasting time in the garden?"
"Because," it was the voice of Dorothy replying, "it would look suspicious if we did not leave the Chamber of Magic occasionally."
"Have you found the spell yet?" asked the Wizard's voice.
"Not yet," replied Dorothy's voice. "I've been through only half of Ozma's magic record books. Give me time it's there. And I'll find it!"
"Time!" replied the Wizard's voice, raised in excitement. "We have no time to lose! Do you realize that Ozma and Glinda will be back in a day and a half? We must find the spell before then if we don't want Ozma to wreck our plans and rob us of the chance we have waited for!"
"Never fear," asserted Dorothy's voice. "I'll find the spell long before Ozma and Glinda return. We'll be ready for those two when they do come back!"
Gradually the voices subsided, as the two walked slowly down the garden path toward the Royal Palace.
On the other side of the hedge, Trot, Cap'n Bill, Scraps and the Scarecrow stared at one another in bewilderment. What could this mean?
It was incredible that Dorothy and the Wizard could be plotting against their dearest friends, Ozma and Glinda.