er than the songs."

Dorothy left her and walked slowly toward the place, where she met the
Tin Woodman just going up the front steps.

"What are you going to give Ozma on her birthday?" she asked.

"It's a secret, but I'll tell you," replied the Tin Woodman, who was
Emperor of the Winkies. "I am having my people make Ozma a lovely
girdle set with beautiful tin nuggets. Each tin nugget will be
surrounded by a circle of emeralds, just to set it off to good
advantage. The clasp of the girdle will be pure tin! Won't that be
fine?"

"I'm sure she'll like it," said Dorothy. "Do you know what I can give
her?"

"I haven't the slightest idea, Dorothy. It took me three months to
think of my own present for Ozma."

The girl walked thoughtfully around to the back of the palace, and
presently came upon the famous Scarecrow of Oz, who has having two of
the palace servants stuff his legs with fresh straw.

"What are you going to give Ozma on her birthday?" asked Dorothy.

"I want to surprise her," answered the Scarecrow.

"I won't tell," promised Dorothy.

"Well, I'm having some straw slippers made for her--all straw, mind
you, and braided very artistically. Ozma has always admired my straw
filling, so I'm sure she'll be pleased with these lovely straw
slippers."

"Ozma will be pleased with anything her loving friends give her," said
the girl. "What I'M worried about, Scarecrow, is what to give Ozma
that she hasn't got already."

"That's what worried me, until I thought of the slippers," said the
Scarecrow. "You'll have to THINK, Dorothy; that's the only way to get
a good idea. If I hadn't such wonderful brains, I'd never have thought
of those straw foot-decorations."

Dorothy left him and went to her room, where she sat down and tried to
think hard. A Pink Kitten was curled up on the window-sill and Dorothy
asked her:

"What can I give Ozma for her birthday present?"

"Oh, give her some milk," replied the Pink Kitten; "that's the nicest
thing I know of."

A fuzzy little black dog had squatted down at Dorothy's feet and now
looked up at her with intelligent eyes.

"Tell me, Toto," said the girl; "what would Ozma like best for a
birthday present?"

The little black dog wagged his tail.

"Your love," said he. "Ozma wants to be loved more than anything else."

"But I already love her, Toto!"

"Then tell her you love her twice as much as you ever did before."

"That wouldn't be true," objected Do