"I think we are," declared Ojo. "What have we
got?"
"House," said Unc Nunkie.
"I know; but everyone in the Land of Oz
has a place to live. What else, Unc?"
"Bread."
"I'm eating the last loaf that's ripe. There;
I've put aside your share, Unc. It's on the table,
so you can eat it when you get hungry. But when
that is gone, what shall we eat, Unc?"
The old man shifted in his chair but merely
shook his head.
"Of course," said Ojo, who was obliged to talk
because his uncle would not, "no one starves in
the Land of Oz, either. There is plenty for
everyone, you know; only, if it isn't just where
you happen to be, you must go where it is."
The aged Munchkin wriggled again and stared at
his small nephew as if disturbed by his argument.
"By to-morrow morning," the boy went on, "we must
go where there is something to eat, or we shall
grow very hungry and become very unhappy."
"Where?" asked Unc.
"Where shall we go? I don't know, I'm sure,"
replied Ojo. "But you must know, Unc. You must
have traveled, in your time, because you're so
old. I don't remember it, because ever since I
could remember anything we've lived right here in
this lonesome, round house, with a little garden
back of it and the thick woods all around.
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