ffer the pangs of hunger.

"Haven't you had your breakfast?" asked the Nome King.

"Oh, I had just a bite," replied the beast. "But what good is a bite,
to a hungry tiger?"

"He ate seventeen bowls of porridge, a platter full of fried sausages,
eleven loaves of bread and twenty-one mince pies," said the Steward.

"What more do you want?" demanded the King.

"A fat baby. I want a fat baby," said the Hungry Tiger. "A nice,
plump, juicy, tender, fat baby. But, of course, if I had one, my
conscience would not allow me to eat it. So I'll have to be an
ornament and forget my hunger."

"Impossible!" exclaimed the King. "I'll have no clumsy beasts enter my
palace, to overturn and break all my pretty nick-nacks. When the rest
of your friends are transformed you can return to the upper world, and
go about your business."

"As for that, we have no business, when our friends are gone," said the
Lion. "So we do not care much what becomes of us."

Dorothy begged to be allowed to go first into the palace, but Tiktok
firmly maintained that the slave should face danger before the
mistress. The Scarecrow agreed with him in that, so the Nome King
opened the door for the machine man, who tramped into the palace to
meet his fate. Then his Majesty returned to his throne and puffed his
pipe so contentedly that a small cloud of smoke formed above his head.

Bye and bye he said:

"I'm sorry there are so few of you left. Very soon, now, my fun will
be over, and then for amusement I shall have nothing to do but admire
my new ornaments."

"It seems to me," said Dorothy, "that you are not so honest as you
pretend to be."

"How's that?" asked the King.

"Why, you made us think it would be easy to guess what ornaments the
people of Ev were changed into."

"It IS easy," declared the monarch, "if one is a good guesser. But it
appears that the members of your party are all poor guessers."

"What is Tiktok doing now?" asked the girl, uneasily.

"Nothing," replied the King, with a frown. "He is standing perfectly
still, in the middle of a room."

"Oh, I expect he's run down," said Dorothy. "I forgot to wind him up
this morning. How many guesses has he made?"

"All that he is allowed except one," answered the King. "Suppose you
go in and wind him up, and then you can stay there and make your own
guesses."

"All right," said Dorothy.

"It is my turn next," declared the Scarecrow.

"Why, you don't want to go away a