"It seemed to me that nothing could be more
gorgeous," declared Ozma. "Whoever made that
patchwork quilt, from which Scraps was formed,
must have selected the gayest and brightest bits
of cloth that ever were woven."
"I am glad you like her," said the Scarecrow
in a satisfied tone. Although the straw man did
not eat, not being made so he could, he often
dined with Ozma and her companions, merely
for the pleasure of talking with them. He sat at
the table and had a napkin and plate, but the
servants knew better than to offer him food.
After a little while he asked: "Where is the
Patchwork Girl now?"
"In my room," replied Dorothy. "I've taken a
fancy to her; she's so queer and--and--uncommon."
"She's half crazy, I think," added the Shaggy
Man.
"But she is so beautiful!" exclaimed the
Scarecrow, as if that fact disarmed all criticism.
They all laughed at his enthusiasm, but the
Scarecrow was quite serious. Seeing that he was
interested in Scraps they forbore to say anything
against her. The little band of friends Ozma had
gathered around her was so quaintly assorted that
much care must be exercised to avoid hurting their
feelings or making any one of them unhappy. It was
this considerate kindness that held them close
friends and enabled them to enjoy one another's
society.
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