from a tall rock by
the roadside and near this spring stood a deserted cabin. Said the
Shaggy Man, halting here:

"We may as well pass the night here, where there is shelter for our
heads and good water to drink. Road beyond here is pretty bad; worst we
shall have to travel; so let's wait until morning before we tackle it."

They agreed to this and Ojo found some brushwood in the cabin and made
a fire on the hearth. The fire delighted Scraps, who danced before it
until Ojo warned her she might set fire to herself and burn up. After
that the Patchwork Girl kept at a respectful distance from the darting
flames, but the Woozy lay down before the fire like a big dog and
seemed to enjoy its warmth.

For supper the Shaggy Man ate one of his tablets, but Ojo stuck to his
bread and cheese as the most satisfying food. He also gave a portion to
the Woozy.

When darkness came on and they sat in a circle on the cabin floor,
facing the firelight--there being no furniture of any sort in the
place--Ojo said to the Shaggy Man:

"Won't you tell us a story?"

"I'm not good at stories," was the reply; "but I sing like a bird."

"Raven, or crow?" asked the Glass Cat.

"Like a song bird. I'll prove it. I'll sing a song I composed myself.
Don't tell anyone I'm a poet; they might want me to write a book. Don't
tell 'em I can sing, or they'd want me to make records for that awful
phonograph. Haven't time to be a public benefactor, so I'll just sing
you this little song for your own amusement."

They were glad enough to be entertained, and listened with interest
while the Shaggy Man chanted the following verses to a tune that was
not unpleasant:

"I'll sing a song of Ozland, where wondrous creatures dwell
And fruits and flowers and shady bowers abound in every dell,
Where magic is a science and where no one shows surprise
If some amazing thing takes place before his very eyes.

Our Ruler's a bewitching girl whom fairies love to please;
She's always kept her magic sceptre to enforce decrees
To make her people happy, for her heart is kind and true
And to aid the needy and distressed is what she longs to do.

And then there's Princess Dorothy, as sweet as any rose,
A lass from Kansas, where they don't grow fairies, I suppose;
And there's the brainy Scarecrow, with a body stuffed with straw,
Who utters words of wisdom rare that fill us all with awe.

I'll not forget Nick Chopper,