en.

"All the same, Your Majesty," said Cayke to Ozma, day after day, with
tiresome repetition, "I hope you will soon find my jeweled dishpan, for
never can I be quite happy without it."

Dorothy Forgives

[Illustration]

CHAPTER 26

The gray dove which had once been Ugu the Shoemaker sat on its tree in
the far Quadling Country and moped, chirping dismally and brooding over
its misfortunes. After a time the Scarecrow and the Tin Woodman came
along and sat beneath the tree, paying no heed to the mutterings of the
gray dove.

The Tin Woodman took a small oilcan from his tin pocket and carefully
oiled his tin joints with it. While he was thus engaged the Scarecrow
remarked:

"I feel much better, dear comrade, since we found that heap of nice
clean straw and you stuffed me anew with it."

"And I feel much better now that my joints are oiled," returned the Tin
Woodman, with a sigh of pleasure. "You and I, friend Scarecrow, are much
more easily cared for than those clumsy meat people, who spend half
their time dressing in fine clothes and who must live in splendid
dwellings in order to be contented and happy. You and I do not eat, and
so we are spared the dreadful bother of getting three meals a day. Nor
do we waste half our lives in sleep, a condition that causes the meat
people to lose all consciousness and become as thoughtless and helpless
as logs of wood."

"You speak truly," responded the Scarecrow, tucking some wisps of straw
into his breast with his padded fingers. "I often feel sorry for the
meat people, many of whom are my friends. Even the beasts are happier
than they, for they require less to make them content. And the birds are
the luckiest creatures of all, for they can fly swiftly where they will
and find a home at any place they care to perch; their food consists of
seeds and grains they gather from the fields and their drink is a sip
of water from some running brook. If I could not be a Scarecrow--or a
Tin Woodman--my next choice would be to live as a bird does."

[Illustration]

The gray dove had listened carefully to this speech and seemed to find
comfort in it, for it hushed its moaning. And just then the Tin Woodman
discovered Cayke's dishpan, which was on the ground quite near to him.

"Here is a rather pretty utensil," he said, taking it in his tin hands
to examine it, "but I would not care to own it. Whoever fashioned it of
gold and covered it with diamonds did not add to its us