This man was a woodchopper and lived all alone
in the little house. He had bushy blue whiskers
and merry blue eyes and his blue clothes were quite
old and worn.
"Mercy me!" exclaimed the woodchopper, when at
last he could stop laughing. "Who would think such
a funny harlequin lived in the Land of Oz? Where
did you come from, Crazy-quilt?"
"Do you mean me?" asked the Patchwork Girl.
"Of course," he replied.
"You misjudge my ancestry. I'm not a crazy-
quilt; I'm patchwork," she said.
"There's no difference," he replied, beginning
to laugh again. "When my old grandmother sews such
things together she calls it a crazy-quilt; but I
never thought such a jumble could come to life."
"It was the Magic Powder that did it," explained
Ojo.
"Oh, then you have come from the Crooked
Magician on the mountain. I might have known it,
for--Well, I declare! here's a glass cat. But the
Magician will get in trouble for this; it's
against the law for anyone to work magic except
Glinda the Good and the royal Wizard of Oz. If you
people--or things--or glass spectacles--or crazy-
quilts--or whatever you are, go near the Emerald
City, you'll be arrested."
"We're going there, anyhow," declared
Scraps, sitting upon the bench and swinging her
stuffed legs.
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