What's the matter?" called the Tin Woodman, anxiously.

"Why, Billina wants to lay her egg, that's all," said Dorothy.

"Lay her egg!" repeated the Tin Woodman, in astonishment.

"Yes; she lays one every morning, about this time; and it's quite
fresh," said the girl.

"But does your foolish old hen suppose that this entire cavalcade,
which is bound on an important adventure, is going to stand still while
she lays her egg?" enquired the Tin Woodman, earnestly.

"What else can we do?" asked the girl. "It's a habit of Billina's and
she can't break herself of it."

"Then she must hurry up," said the Tin Woodman, impatiently.

"No, no!" exclaimed the Scarecrow. "If she hurries she may lay
scrambled eggs."

"That's nonsense," said Dorothy. "But Billina won't be long, I'm sure."

So they stood and waited, although all were restless and anxious to
proceed. And by and by the yellow hen came from the bushes saying:

"Kut-kut, kut, ka-daw-kutt! Kut, kut, kut--ka-daw-kut!"

"What is she doing--singing her lay?" asked the Scarecrow.

"For-ward--march!" shouted the Tin Woodman, waving his axe, and the
procession started just as Dorothy had once more grabbed Billina in her
arms.

"Isn't anyone going to get my egg?" cried the hen, in great excitement.

"I'll get it," said the Scarecrow; and at his command the Sawhorse
pranced into the bushes. The straw man soon found the egg, which he
placed in his jacket pocket. The cavalcade, having moved rapidly on,
was even then far in advance; but it did not take the Sawhorse long to
catch up with it, and presently the Scarecrow was riding in his
accustomed place behind Ozma's chariot.

"What shall I do with the egg?" he asked Dorothy.

"I do not know," the girl answered. "Perhaps the Hungry Tiger would
like it."

"It would not be enough to fill one of my back teeth," remarked the
Tiger. "A bushel of them, hard boiled, might take a little of the edge
off my appetite; but one egg isn't good for anything at all, that I
know of."

"No; it wouldn't even make a sponge cake," said the Scarecrow,
thoughtfully. "The Tin Woodman might carry it with his axe and hatch
it; but after all I may as well keep it myself for a souvenir." So he
left it in his pocket.

They had now reached that part of the valley that lay between the two
high mountains which Dorothy had seen from her tower window. At the
far end was the third great mountain, which blocked the valley and was
the nor