OZMA’S FRIENDS ARE PERPLEXED

“Really,” said Dorothy, looking solemn, “this is very s’prising.
We can’t even find a shadow of Ozma anywhere in the Em’rald
City, and wherever she’s gone, she’s taken her Magic
Picture with her.” She was standing in the courtyard of
the palace with Betsy and Trot, while Scraps, the Patchwork
Girl, danced around the group, her hair flying in the
wind.

“P’raps,” said Scraps, still dancing, “someone has stolen
Ozma.”

“Oh, they’d never dare do that!” exclaimed tiny Trot.

“And stolen the Magic Picture, too, so the thing can’t
tell where she is,” added the Patchwork Girl.

“That’s nonsense,” said Dorothy. “Why, ev’ryone loves
Ozma. There isn’t a person in the Land of Oz who would
steal a single thing she owns.”“Huh!” replied the Patchwork Girl. “You don’t know ev’ry person in the Land of Oz.”

“Why don’t I?”

“It’s a big country,” said Scraps. “There are cracks and corners in it that even Ozma doesn’t know of.”

“The Patchwork Girl’s just daffy,” declared Betsy.

“No, she’s right about that,” replied Dorothy thoughtfully. “There are lots of queer people in this fairyland who never come near Ozma or the Em’rald City. I’ve seen some of ’em myself, girls. But I haven’t seen all, of course, and there MIGHT be some wicked persons left in Oz yet, though I think the wicked witches have all been destroyed.”

Just then the Wooden Sawhorse dashed into the courtyard with the Wizard of Oz on his back. 

“Have you found Ozma?” cried the Wizard when the Sawhorse stopped beside them.

“Not yet,” said Dorothy. “Doesn’t Glinda the Good know where she is?”

“No. Glinda’s Book of Records and all her magic instruments are gone. Someone must have 

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