"He is simply wonderful," declared the Tin Woodman.
"I shall be glad to make his acquaintance," said
Woot.
"If you wish to meet with real cleverness," remarked
the Scarecrow, "you should visit the Munchkin farmer
who first made me. I won't say that my friend the
Emperor isn't all right for a tin man, but any judge of
beauty can understand that a Scarecrow is far more
artistic and refined."
"You are too soft and flimsy," said the Tin Woodman.
"You are too hard and stiff," said the Scarecrow, and
this was as near to quarreling as the two friends ever
came. Polychrome laughed at them both, as well she
might, and Woot hastened to change the subject.
At night they all camped underneath the trees. The
boy ate cream-puffs for supper and offered Polychrome
some, but she preferred other food and at daybreak
sipped the dew that was clustered thick on the forest
flowers. Then they tramped onward again, and presently
the Scarecrow paused and said:
"It was on this very spot that Dorothy and I first
met the Tin Woodman, who was rusted so badly that none
of his joints would move. But after we had oiled him
up, he was as good as new and accompanied us to the
Emerald City."
"Ah, that was a sad experience," asserted the Tin
Woodman soberly. "I was caught in a rainstorm while
chopping down a tree for exercise, and before I
realized it, I was firmly rusted in every joint. There
I stood, axe in hand, but unable to move, for days and
weeks and months! Indeed, I have never known exactly
how long the time was; but finally along came Dorothy
and I was saved.
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