“Ozma wouldn’t go away willingly, without letting us know about it,” asserted Dorothy, “and she wouldn’t steal Glinda’s Great Book of Records or the Wizard’s magic, ’cause she could get them any time just by asking for ’em. I’m sure some wicked person has done all this.” “Someone in the Land of Oz?” asked Trot. “Of course. No one could get across the Deadly Desert, you know, and no one but an Oz person could know about the Magic Picture and the Book of Records and the Wizard’s magic or where they were kept, and so be able to steal the whole outfit before we could stop ’em. It MUST be someone who lives in the Land of Oz.” “But who—who—who?” asked Scraps. “That’s the question. Who?” “If we knew,” replied Dorothy severely, “we wouldn’t be standing here doing nothing.” Just then two boys entered the courtyard and approached the group of girls. One boy was dressed in the fantastic Munchkin costume—a blue jacket and knickerbockers, blue leather shoes and a blue hat with a high peak and tiny silver bells dangling from its rim—and this was Ojo the Lucky, who had once come from the Munchkin Country of Oz and now lived in the Emerald City. The other boy was an American from Philadelphia and had lately found his way to Oz in the company of Trot and Cap’n Bill. His name was Button-Bright; that is, everyone called him by that name and knew no other. Button-Bright was not quite as big as the Munchkin boy, but he wore the same kind of clothes, only they were of different colors. As the two came up to the girls, arm in arm, Button-Bright remarked, “Hello, Dorothy. They say Ozma is lost.” “WHO says so?” she asked. “Ev’rybody’s talking about it in the City,” he replied. “I wonder how the people found it out,” Dorothy asked. “I know,” said Ojo. “Jellia Jamb told them. She has been asking everywhere if anyone has seen Ozma.” “That’s too bad,” observed Dorothy, frowning. “Why?” asked Button-Bright. “There wasn’t any use making all our people unhappy till we were dead certain that Ozma can’t be found.”
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