“Must we all go back?” asked Trot.

“Course not!” replied Button-Bright scornfully. “Always when there’s trouble, there’s a way out of it if you can find it.”

“I wish the Scarecrow was here,” said Scraps, standing on her head on the Woozy’s square back. “His splendid brains would soon show us how to conquer this field of thistles.”

“What’s the matter with YOUR brains?” asked the boy.

“Nothing,” she said, making a flip-flop into the thistles and dancing among them without feeling their sharp points. “I could tell you in half a minute how to get over the thistles if I wanted to.”

“Tell us, Scraps!” begged Dorothy.

“I don’t want to wear my brains out with overwork,” replied the Patchwork Girl.

“Don’t you love Ozma? And don’t you want to find her?” asked Betsy reproachfully.

“Yes indeed,” said Scraps, walking on her hands as an acrobat does at the circus.

“Well, we can’t find Ozma unless we get past these thistles,” declared Dorothy.

Scraps danced around them two or three times without reply. Then she said, “Don’t look at me, you stupid folks. Look at those blankets.”

The Wizard’s face brightened at once.

“Why didn’t we think of those blankets before?”

“Because you haven’t magic brains,” laughed Scraps. “Such brains as you have are of the common sort that grow in your heads, like weeds in a garden. I’m sorry for you people who have to be born in order to be alive.”

But the Wizard was not listening to her. He quickly removed the blankets from the back of the Sawhorse and spread one of them upon the thistles, just next to the grass. The thick cloth rendered the prickers harmless, so the Wizard walked over this first blanket and spread the second one farther on, in the direction of the phantom city.

“These blankets,” said he, “are for the Lion and the Mule to walk upon. The Sawhorse and the Woozy can walk on the thistles.”

So the Lion and the Mule walked over the first blanket and stood upon the second 

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