But now the Tin Soldier remarked:
"I wonder if my old head happens to be in any of
these cupboards," and he proceeded to open all the
cupboard doors. But no other head was to be found on
any of the shelves.
"Oh, well; never mind," said Woot the Wanderer; "I
can't imagine what anyone wants of a cast-off head,
anyhow."
"I can understand the Soldier's interest," asserted
Polychrome, dancing around the grimy workshop until her
draperies formed a cloud around her dainty form. "For
sentimental reasons a man might like to see his old
head once more, just as one likes to revisit an old
home."
"And then to kiss it good-bye," added the Scarecrow.
"I hope that tin thing won't try to kiss me good-
bye!" exclaimed the Tin Woodman's former head. "And I
don't see what right you folks have to disturb my peace
and comfort, either."
"You belong to me," the Tin Woodman declared.
"I do not!"
"You and I are one."
"We've been parted," asserted the Head. "It would be
unnatural for me to have any interest in a man made of
tin. Please close the door and leave me alone."
"I did not think that my old Head could be so
disagreeable," said the Emperor. "I -- I'm quite
ashamed of myself; meaning you."
"You ought to be glad that I've enough sense to know
what my rights are," retorted the Head. "In this
cupboard I am leading a simple life, peaceful and
dignified, and when a mob of people in whom I am not
interested disturb me, they are the disagreeable ones;
not I.
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