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are Soda Biscuits, and I don’t care to mix with them.”

      “But I’m hungry yet,” declared the girl. “That wheelbarrow wasn’t very big.”

      “I’ve got a shortcake piano, but none of my family can play on it,” he said, reflectively. “Suppose you eat that.”

      “All right,” said Dorothy; “I don’t mind. Anything to be accommodating.”

      So Mr. Over led her into the house, where she ate the piano, which was of an excellent flavor.

      “Is there anything to drink here?” she asked.

      “Yes; I’ve a milk pump and a water pump; which will you have?” he asked.

      “I guess I’ll try ‘em both,” said Dorothy.

      So Mr. Over called to his wife, who brought into the yard a pail made of some kind of baked dough, and Dorothy pumped the pail full of cool, sweet milk and drank it eagerly.

      The wife of Pop Over was several shades darker than her husband.

      “Aren’t you overdone?” the little girl asked her.

      “No indeed,” answered the woman. “I’m neither overdone nor done over; I’m just Mrs. Over, and I’m the President of the Bunbury Breakfast Band.”

      Dorothy thanked them for their hospitality and went away. At the gate Mr. Cinnamon Bunn met her and said he would show her around the town. “We have some very interesting inhabitants,” he remarked, walking stiffly beside her on his stick-cinnamon legs; “and all of us who are in good health are well bred. If you are no longer hungry we will call upon a few of the most important citizens.”

      Toto and Billina followed behind them, behaving very well, and a little way down the street they came to a handsome residence where Aunt Sally Lunn lived. The old lady was glad to meet the little girl and gave her a slice of white bread and butter which had been used as a door-mat. It was almost fresh and tasted better than anything Dorothy had eaten in the town.

      “Where do you get the butter?” she inquired.

      “We dig it out of the ground, which, as you may have observed, is all flour and meal,” replied Mr. Bunn. “There is a butter mine just at the opposite side of the village. The trees which you see here are all doughleanders and doughderas, and in the season we get quite a crop of doughnuts off them.”

      “I should think the flour would blow around and get into your eyes,” said Dorothy.

      “No,” said he; “we are bothered with cracker dust sometimes, but never with flour.”

      Then he took her to see Johnny Cake, a cheerful old gentleman who lived near by.

      “I suppose you’ve heard of me,” said old Johnny, with an air of pride. “I’m a great favorite all over the world.”

      “Aren’t you rather yellow?” asked Dorothy, looking at him critically.

      “Maybe, child. But don’t think I’m bilious, for I was never in better health in my life,” replied the old gentleman. “If anything ailed me, I’d willingly acknowledge the corn.”

      “Johnny’s a trifle stale,” said Mr. Bunn, as they went away; “but he’s a good mixer and never gets cross-grained. I will now take you to call upon some of my own relatives.” They visited the Sugar Bunns, the Currant Bunns and the Spanish Bunns, the latter having a decidedly foreign appearance. Then they saw the French Rolls, who were very polite to them, and made a brief call upon the Parker H. Rolls, who seemed a bit proud and overbearing.

      “But they’re not as stuck up as the Frosted Jumbles,” declared Mr. Bunn, “who are people I really can’t abide. I don’t like to be suspicious or talk scandal, but sometimes I think the Jumbles have too much baking powder in them.”

      Just then a dreadful scream was heard, and Dorothy turned hastily around to find a scene of great excitement a little way down the street. The people were crowding around Toto and throwing at him everything they could find at hand. They pelted the little dog with hard-tack, crackers, and even articles of furniture which were hard baked and heavy enough for missiles.

      Toto howeled a little as the assortment of bake stuff struck him; but he stood still, with head bowed and tail between his legs, until Dorothy ran up and inquired what the matter was.

      “Matter!” cried a rye loafer, indignantly, “why the horrid beast has eaten three of our dear Crumpets, and is now devouring a Salt-rising Biscuit!”

      “Oh, Toto! How could you?” exclaimed Dorothy, much distressed.

      Toto’s mouth was full of his salt-rising victim; so he only whined and wagged his tail. But Billina, who had flown to the top of a cracker house to be in a safe place, called out:

      “Don’t blame him, Dorothy; the Crumpets dared him to do it.”

      “Yes, and you pecked out the eyes of a Raisin Bunn—one of our best citizens!” shouted a bread pudding, shaking its fist at the Yellow Hen.

      “What’s that! What’s that?” wailed Mr. Cinnamon Bunn, who had now joined them. “Oh, what a misfortune—what a terrible misfortune!”

      “See here,” said Dorothy, determined to defend her pets, “I think we’ve treated you all pretty well, seeing you’re eatables an’ reg’lar food for us. I’ve been kind to you and eaten your old wheelbarrows and pianos and rubbish, an’ not said a word. But Toto and Billina can’t be ‘spected to go hungry when the town’s full of good things they like to eat, ‘cause they can’t understand your stingy ways as I do.”

      “You must leave here at once!” said Mr. Bunn, sternly.

      “Suppose we won’t go?” said Dorothy, who was now much provoked.

      “Then,” said he, “we will put you into the great ovens where we are made, and bake you.”

      Dorothy gazed around and saw threatening looks upon the faces of all. She had not noticed any ovens in the town, but they might be there, nevertheless, for some of the inhabitants seemed very fresh. So she decided to go, and calling to Toto and Billina to follow her she marched up the street with as much dignity as possible, considering that she was followed by the hoots and cries of the buns and biscuits and other bake stuff.

      18. How Ozma Looked into the Magic Picture

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      Princess Ozma was a very busy little ruler, for she looked carefully after the comfort and welfare of her people and tried to make them happy. If any quarrels arose she decided them justly; if any one needed counsel or advice she was ready and willing to listen to them.

      For a day or two after Dorothy and her companions had started on their trip, Ozma was occupied with the affairs of her kingdom. Then she began to think of some manner of occupation for Uncle Henry and Aunt Em that would be light and easy and yet give the old people something to do.

      She soon decided to make Uncle Henry the Keeper of the Jewels, for some one really was needed to count and look after the bins and barrels of emeralds, diamonds, rubies and other precious stones that were in the Royal Storehouses. That would keep Uncle Henry busy enough, but it was harder to find something for Aunt Em to do. The palace was full of servants, so there was no detail of housework that Aunt Em could look after.

      While Ozma sat in her pretty room engaged in thought she happened to glance at her Magic Picture.

      This was one of the most important treasures in all the Land of Oz. It was a large picture, set in a beautiful gold frame, and it hung in a prominent place upon a wall of Ozma’s private room.

      Usually this picture seemed merely a country scene, but whenever Ozma looked at it and wished to know what any of her friends or acquaintances were doing, the magic of this

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