She
could smile and wear pretty clothes and at the same
time be even more cruel than her wicked husband had been.
Both the Scarecrow and the Tin Woodman tried to
think of some way to escape from the castle before
morning, but she seemed to read their thoughts and
shook her head.
"Don't worry your poor brains," said she. "You can't
escape me, however hard you try. But why should you
wish to escape? I shall give you new forms that are
much better than the ones you now have. Be contented
with your fate, for discontent leads to unhappiness,
and unhappiness, in any form, is the greatest evil that
can befall you."
"What forms do you intend to give us?" asked Woot
earnestly.
"I haven't decided, as yet. I'll dream over it
tonight, so in the morning I shall have made up my mind
how to transform you. Perhaps you'd prefer to choose
your own transformations?"
"No," said Woot, "I prefer to remain as I am."
"That's funny," she retorted. "You are little, and
you're weak; as you are, you're not much account,
anyhow. The best thing about you is that you're alive,
for I shall be able to make of you some sort of live
creature which will be a great improvement on your
present form."
She took another biscuit from a plate and dipped it
in a pot of honey and calmly began eating it.
The Scarecrow watched her thoughtfully.
"There are no fields of grain in your Valley," said he;
"where, then.
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