"Don't you imagine he would make a better soup?" asked the Tin Woodman,
turning toward his friend.
"Well, perhaps," acknowledged the Scarecrow.
The Woggle-Bug groaned.
"I can see, in my mind's eye," said he, mournfully, "the goats eating small
pieces of my dear comrade, the Tin Woodman, while my soup is being cooked on
a bonfire built of the Saw-Horse and Jack Pumpkinhead's body, and Queen
Jinjur watches me boil while she feeds the flames with my friend the
Scarecrow!"
This morbid picture cast a gloom over the entire party, making them restless
and anxious.
"It can't happen for some time," said the Tin Woodman, trying to speak
cheerfully; "for we shall be able to keep Jinjur out of the palace until she
manages to break down the doors."
184
"And in the meantime I am liable to starve to death, and so is the Woggle-
Bug," announced Tip.
"As for me," said the Woggle-Bug, "I think that I could live for some time
on Jack Pumpkinhead. Not that I prefer pumpkins for food; but I believe they
are somewhat nutritious, and Jack's head is large and plump."
"How heartless!" exclaimed the Tin Woodman, greatly shocked. "Are we
cannibals, let me ask? Or are we faithful friends?"
"I see very clearly that we cannot stay shut up in this palace," said the
Scarecrow, with decision.
Pages:
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132