The Patchwork Girl of Oz
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L. Frank Baum >> The Patchwork Girl of Oz
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13 THE PATCHWORK GIRL OF OZ
by L. FRANK BAUM
Affectionately Dedicated to my young friend
Sumner Hamilton Britton of Chicago
Prologue
Through the kindness of Dorothy Gale of Kansas,
afterward Princess Dorothy of Oz, an humble writer
in the United States of America was once appointed
Royal Historian of Oz, with the privilege of
writing the chronicle of that wonderful fairyland.
But after making six books about the adventures of
those interesting but queer people who live in the
Land of Oz, the Historian learned with sorrow that
by an edict of the Supreme Ruler, Ozma of Oz, her
country would thereafter be rendered invisible to
all who lived outside its borders and that all
communication with Oz would, in the future, be cut off.
The children who had learned to look for the
books about Oz and who loved the stories about the
gay and happy people inhabiting that favored
country, were as sorry as their Historian that
there would be no more books of Oz stories. They
wrote many letters asking if the Historian did not
know of some adventures to write about that had
happened before the Land of Oz was shut out from
all the rest of the world. But he did not know of
any. Finally one of the children inquired why we
couldn't hear from Princess Dorothy by wireless
telegraph, which would enable her to communicate
to the Historian whatever happened in the far-off
Land of Oz without his seeing her, or even knowing
just where Oz is.
That seemed a good idea; so the Historian rigged
up a high tower in his back yard, and took lessons
in wireless telegraphy until he understood it,
and then began to call "Princess Dorothy of Oz" by
sending messages into the air.
Now, it wasn't likely that Dorothy would be
looking for wireless messages or would heed the
call; but one thing the Historian was sure of, and
that was that the powerful Sorceress, Glinda,
would know what he was doing and that he desired
to communicate with Dorothy. For Glinda has a big
book in which is recorded every event that takes
place anywhere in the world, just the moment that
it happens, and so of course the book would tell
her about the wireless message.
And that was the way Dorothy heard that the
Historian wanted to speak with her, and there was
a Shaggy Man in the Land of Oz who knew how to
telegraph a wireless reply. The result was that
the Historian begged so hard to be told the latest
news of Oz, so that he could write it down for the
children to read, that Dorothy asked permission of
Ozma and Ozma graciously consented.
That is why, after two long years of waiting,
another Oz story is now presented to the children
of America. This would not have been possible had
not some clever man invented the "wireless" and an
equally clever child suggested the idea of
reaching the mysterious Land of Oz by its means.
L. Frank Baum.
"OZCOT"
at Hollywood
in California
LIST OF CHAPTERS
1 - Ojo and Unc Nunkie
2 - The Crooked Magician
3 - The Patchwork Girl
4 - The Glass Cat
5 - A Terrible Accident
6 - The Journey
7 - The Troublesome Phonograph
8 - The Foolish Owl and the Wise Donkey
9 - They Meet the Woozy
10 - Shaggy Man to the Rescue
11 - A Good Friend
12 - The Giant Porcupine
13 - Scraps and the Scarecrow
14 - Ojo Breaks the Law
15 - Ozma's Prisoner
16 - Princess Dorothy
17 - Ozma and Her Friends
18 - Ojo is Forgiven
19 - Trouble with the Tottenhots
20 - The Captive Yoop
21 - Hip Hopper the Champion
22 - The Joking Horners
23 - Peace is Declared
24 - Ojo Finds the Dark Well
25 - They Bribe the Lazy Quadling
26 - The Trick River
27 - The Tin Woodman Objects
28 - The Wonderful Wizard of Oz
The Patchwork Girl of Oz
Chapter One
Ojo and Unc Nunkie
"Where's the butter, Unc Nunkie?" asked Ojo.
Unc looked out of the window and stroked his
long beard. Then he turned to the Munchkin boy and
shook his head.
"Isn't," said he.
"Isn't any butter? That's too bad, Unc. Where's
the jam then?" inquired Ojo, standing on a stool
so he could look through all the shelves of the
cupboard. But Unc Nunkie shook his head again.
"Gone," he said.
"No jam, either? And no cake--no jelly--no
apples--nothing but bread?"
"All," said Unc, again stroking his beard as he
gazed from the window.
The little boy brought the stool and sat beside
his uncle, munching the dry bread slowly and
seeming in deep thought.
"Nothing grows in our yard but the bread
tree," he mused, "and there are only two more
loaves on that tree; and they're not ripe yet. Tell
me, Unc; why are we so poor?"
The old Munchkin turned and looked at Ojo. He
had kindly eyes, but he hadn't smiled or laughed
in so long that the boy had forgotten that Unc
Nunkie could look any other way than solemn. And
Unc never spoke any more words than he was obliged
to, so his little nephew, who lived alone with
him, had learned to understand a great deal from
one word.
"Why are we so poor, Unc?" repeated the boy.
"Not," said the old Munchkin.
"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. All
I've ever seen of the great Land of Oz, Unc dear,
is the view of that mountain over at the south,
where they say the Hammerheads live--who won't let
anybody go by them--and that mountain at the
north, where they say nobody lives."
"One," declared Unc, correcting him.
"Oh, yes; one family lives there, I've heard.
That's the Crooked Magician, who is named
Dr. Pipt, and his wife Margolotte. One year you
told me about them; I think it took you a whole
year, Unc, to say as much as I've just said about
the Crooked Magician and his wife. They live
high up on the mountain, and the good Munchkin
Country, where the fruits and flowers grow, is
just the other side. It's funny you and I should
live here all alone, in the middle of the forest,
isn't it?"
"Yes," said Unc.
"Then let's go away and visit the Munchkin
Country and its jolly, good-natured people. I'd
love to get a sight of something besides woods,
Unc Nunkie."
"Too little," said Unc.
"Why, I'm not so little as I used to be,"
answered the boy earnestly. "I think I can walk
as far and as fast through the woods as you
can, Unc. And now that nothing grows in our
back yard that is good to eat, we must go where
there is food."
Unc Nunkie made no reply for a time. Then
he shut down the window and turned his chair
to face the room, for the sun was sinking behind
the tree-tops and it was growing cool.
By and by Ojo lighted the fire and the logs
blazed freely in the broad fireplace. The two sat
in the firelight a long time--the old, white-
bearded Munchkin and the little boy. Both were
thinking. When it grew quite dark outside, Ojo
said:
"Eat your bread, Unc, and then we will go to
bed."
But Unc Nunkie did not eat the bread; neither
did he go directly to bed. Long after his little
nephew was sound asleep in the corner of the room
the old man sat by the fire, thinking.
Chapter Two
The Crooked Magician
Just at dawn next morning Unc Nunkie laid his hand
tenderly on Ojo's head and awakened him.
"Come," he said.
Ojo dressed. He wore blue silk stockings, blue
knee pants with gold buckles, a blue ruffled
waist and a jacket of bright blue braided with
gold. His shoes were of blue leather and turned up
at the toes, which were pointed. His hat had a
peaked crown and a flat brim, and around the brim
was a row of tiny golden bells that tinkled when
he moved. This was the native costume of those
who inhabited the Munchkin Country of the Land of
Oz, so Unc Nunkie's dress was much like that of
his nephew. Instead of shoes, the old man wore
boots with turnover tops and his blue coat had
wide cuffs of gold braid.
The boy noticed that his uncle had not eaten
the bread, and supposed the old man had not
been hungry. Ojo was hungry, though; so he
divided the piece of bread upon the table and
ate his half for breakfast, washing it down with
fresh, cool water from the brook. Unc put the
other piece of bread in his jacket pocket, after
which he again said, as he walked out through
the doorway: "Come."
Ojo was well pleased. He was dreadfully
tired of living all alone in the woods and wanted
to travel and see people. For a long time he had
wished to explore the beautiful Land of Oz
in which they lived. When they were outside,
Unc simply latched the door and started up the
path. No one would disturb their little house,
even if anyone came so far into the thick forest
while they were gone.
At the foot of the mountain that separated the
Country of the Munchkins from the Country of the
Gillikins, the path divided. One way led to the
left and the other to the right--straight up the
mountain. Unc Nunkie took this right-hand path and
Ojo followed without asking why. He knew it would
take them to the house of the Crooked Magician,
whom he had never seen but who was their nearest
neighbor.
All the morning they trudged up the mountain path
and at noon Unc and Ojo sat on a fallen tree-trunk
and ate the last of the bread which the old
Munchkin had placed in his pocket. Then they
started on again and two hours later came in sight
of the house of Dr. Pipt.
It was a big house, round, as were all the
Munchkin houses, and painted blue, which is the
distinctive color of the Munchkin Country of Oz.
There was a pretty garden around the house, where
blue trees and blue flowers grew in abundance and
in one place were beds of blue cabbages, blue
carrots and blue lettuce, all of which were
delicious to eat. In Dr. Pipt's garden grew bun-
trees, cake-trees, cream-puff bushes, blue
buttercups which yielded excellent blue butter and
a row of chocolate-caramel plants. Paths of blue
gravel divided the vegetable and flower beds and a
wider path led up to the front door. The place was
in a clearing on the mountain, but a little way
off was the grim forest, which completely
surrounded it.
Unc knocked at the door of the house and
a chubby, pleasant-faced woman, dressed all in
blue, opened it and greeted the visitors with a
smile.
"Ah," said Ojo; "you must be Dame Margolotte,
the good wife of Dr. Pipt."
"I am, my dear, and all strangers are welcome
to my home."
"May we see the famous Magician, Madam?"
"He is very busy just now," she said, shaking
her head doubtfully. "But come in and let me
give you something to eat, for you must have
traveled far in order to get our lonely place."
"We have," replied Ojo, as he and Unc entered
the house. "We have come from a far lonelier place
than this."
"A lonelier place! And in the Munchkin Country?"
she exclaimed. "Then it must be somewhere in the
Blue Forest."
"It is, good Dame Margolotte."
"Dear me!" she said, looking at the man, "you
must be Unc Nunkie, known as the Silent One." Then
she looked at the boy. "And you must be Ojo the
Unlucky," she added.
"Yes," said Unc.
"I never knew I was called the Unlucky,"
said Ojo, soberly; "but it is really a good name
for me."
"Well," remarked the woman, as she bustled
around the room and set the table and brought food
from the cupboard, "you were unlucky to live all
alone in that dismal forest, which is much worse
than the forest around here; but perhaps your luck
will change, now you are away from it. If, during
your travels, you can manage to lose that 'Un' at
the beginning of your name 'Unlucky,' you will
then become Ojo the Lucky, which will be a great
improvement."
"How can I lose that 'Un,' Dame Margolotte?"
"I do not know how, but you must keep the
matter in mind and perhaps the chance will
come to you," she replied.
Ojo had never eaten such a fine meal in all
his life. There was a savory stew, smoking hot,
a dish of blue peas, a bowl of sweet milk of a
delicate blue tint and a blue pudding with blue
plums in it. When the visitors had eaten heartily
of this fare the woman said to them:
"Do you wish to see Dr. Pipt on business or
for pleasure?"
Unc shook his head.
"We are traveling," replied Ojo, "and we
stopped at your house just to rest and refresh
ourselves. I do not think Unc Nunkie cares
very much to see the famous Crooked Magician;
but for my part I am curious to look at such
a great man."
The woman seemed thoughtful.
"I remember that Unc Nunkie and my husband used
to be friends, many years ago," she said, "so
perhaps they will be glad to meet again. The
Magician is very busy, as I said, but if you will
promise not to disturb him you may come into his
workshop and watch him prepare a wonderful charm."
"Thank you," replied the boy, much pleased.
"I would like to do that."
She led the way to a great domed hall at the
back of the house, which was the Magician's
workshop. There was a row of windows extending
nearly around the sides of the circular room,
which rendered the place very light, and there was
a back door in addition to the one leading to the
front part of the house. Before the row of windows
a broad seat was built and there were some chairs
and benches in the room besides. At one end stood
a great fireplace, in which a blue log was blazing
with a blue flame, and over the fire hung four
kettles in a row, all bubbling and steaming at a
great rate. The Magician was stirring all four of
these kettles at the same time, two with his
hands and two with his feet, to the latter, wooden
ladles being strapped, for this man was so very
crooked that his legs were as handy as his arms.
Unc Nunkie came forward to greet his old
friend, but not being able to shake either his
hands or his feet, which were all occupied in
stirring, he patted the Magician's bald head and
asked: "What?"
"Ah, it's the Silent One," remarked Dr. Pipt,
without looking up, "and he wants to know
what I'm making. Well, when it is quite finished
this compound will be the wonderful Powder
of Life, which no one knows how to make but
myself. Whenever it is sprinkled on anything,
that thing will at once come to life, no matter
what it is. It takes me several years to make this
magic Powder, but at this moment I am pleased
to say it is nearly done. You see, I am making it
for my good wife Margolotte, who wants to use
some of it for a purpose of her own. Sit down
and make yourself comfortable, Unc Nunkie,
and after I've finished my task I will talk to
you."
"You must know," said Margolottte, when they
were all seated together on the broad window-seat,
"that my husband foolishly gave away all the
Powder of Life he first made to old Mombi the
Witch, who used to live in the Country of the
Gillikins, to the north of here. Mombi gave to Dr.
Pipt a Powder of Perpetual Youth in exchange for
his Powder of Life, but she cheated him wickedly,
for the Powder of Youth was no good and could work
no magic at all."
"Perhaps the Powder of Life couldn't either,"
said Ojo.
"Yes; it is perfection," she declared. "The first
lot we tested on our Glass Cat, which not only
began to live but has lived ever since. She's
somewhere around the house now."
"A Glass Cat!" exclaimed Ojo, astonished.
"Yes; she makes a very pleasant companion, but
admires herself a little more than is considered
modest, and she positively refuses to catch mice,"
explained Margolotte. "My husband made the cat
some pink brains, but they proved to be too high-
bred and particular for a cat, so she thinks it is
undignified in her to catch mice. Also she has a
pretty blood-red heart, but it is made of stone--a
ruby, I think--and so is rather hard and unfeeling.
I think the next Glass Cat the Magician makes will
have neither brains nor heart, for then it will
not object to catching mice and may prove of some
use to us."
"What did old Mombi the Witch do with the
Powder of Life your husband gave her?" asked
the boy.
"She brought Jack Pumpkinhead to life, for
one thing," was the reply. "I suppose you've
heard of Jack Pumpkinhead. He is now living
near the Emerald City and is a great favorite
with the Princess Ozma, who rules all the Land
of Oz."
"No; I've never heard of him," remarked
Ojo. "I'm afraid I don't know much about the
Land of Oz. You see, I've lived all my life with
Unc Nunkie, the Silent One, and there was no
one to tell me anything."
"That is one reason you are Ojo the Unlucky,"
said the woman, in a sympathetic tone. "The more
one knows, the luckier he is, for knowledge is the
greatest gift in life."
"But tell me, please, what you intend to do
with this new lot of the Powder of Life, which
Dr. Pipt is making. He said his wife wanted it
for some especial purpose."
"So I do," she answered. "I want it to bring
my Patchwork Girl to life."
"Oh! A Patchwork Girl? What is that?" Ojo
asked, for this seemed even more strange and
unusual than a Glass Cat.
"I think I must show you my Patchwork
Girl," said Margolotte, laughing at the boy's
astonishment, "for she is rather difficult to
explain. But first I will tell you that for many
years I have longed for a servant to help me with
the housework and to cook the meals and wash the
dishes. No servant will come here because the
place is so lonely and out-of-the-way, so my
clever husband, the Crooked Magician, proposed
that I make a girl out of some sort of material
and he would make her live by sprinkling over her
the Powder of Life. This seemed an excellent
suggestion and at once Dr. Pipt set to work to
make a new batch of his magic powder. He has been
at it a long, long while, and so I have had plenty
of time to make the girl. Yet that task was not so
easy as you may suppose. At first I couldn't think
what to make her of, but finally in searching
through a chest I came across an old patchwork
quilt, which my grandmother once made when she was
young."
"What is a patchwork quilt?" asked Ojo.
"A bed-quilt made of patches of different kinds
and colors of cloth, all neatly sewed together.
The patches are of all shapes and sizes, so a
patchwork quilt is a very pretty and gorgeous
thing to look at. Sometimes it is called a
'crazy-quilt,' because the patches and colors are
so mixed up. We never have used my grandmother's
many-colored patchwork quilt, handsome as it is,
for we Munchkins do not care for any color other
than blue, so it has been packed away in the chest
for about a hundred years. When I found it, I said
to myself that it would do nicely for my servant
girl, for when she was brought to life she would
not be proud nor haughty, as the Glass Cat is, for
such a dreadful mixture of colors would discourage
her from trying to be as dignified as the blue
Munchkins are."
"Is blue the only respectable color, then?"
inquired Ojo.
"Yes, for a Munchkin. All our country is blue,
you know. But in other parts of Oz the people
favor different colors. At the Emerald City,
where our Princess Ozma lives, green is the
popular color. But all Munchkins prefer blue
to anything else and when my housework girl
is brought to life she will find herself to be of
so many unpopular colors that she'll never dare
be rebellious or impudent, as servants are
sometimes liable to be when they are made the same
way their mistresses are."
Unc Nunkie nodded approval.
"Good i-dea," he said; and that was a long
speech for Unc Nunkie because it was two
words.
"So I cut up the quilt," continued Margolotte,
"and made from it a very well-shaped girl,
which I stuffed with cotton-wadding. I will
show you what a good job I did," and she went
to a tall cupboard and threw open the doors.
Then back she came, lugging in her arms the
Patchwork Girl, which she set upon the bench
and propped up so that the figure would not
tumble over.
Chapter Three
The Patchwork Girl
Ojo examined this curious contrivance with wonder.
The Patchwork Girl was taller than he, when she
stood upright, and her body was plump and rounded
because it had been so neatly stuffed with cotton.
Margolotte had first made the girl's form from the
patchwork quilt and then she had dressed it with a
patchwork skirt and an apron with pockets in it--
using the same gay material throughout. Upon the
feet she had sewn a pair of red leather shoes with
pointed toes. All the fingers and thumbs of the
girl's hands had been carefully formed and stuffed
and stitched at the edges, with gold plates at the
ends to serve as finger-nails.
"She will have to work, when she comes to
life," said Marglotte.
The head of the Patchwork Girl was the most
curious part of her. While she waited for her
husband to finish making his Powder of Life the
woman had found ample time to complete the head as
her fancy dictated, and she realized that a good
servant's head must be properly constructed. The
hair was of brown yarn and hung down on her neck
in several neat braids. Her eyes were two silver
suspender-buttons cut from a pair of the
Magician's old trousers, and they were sewed on
with black threads, which formed the pupils of the
eyes. Margolotte had puzzled over the ears for
some time, for these were important if the servant
was to hear distinctly, but finally she had made
them out of thin plates of gold and attached them
in place by means of stitches through tiny holes
bored in the metal. Gold is the most common metal
in the Land of Oz and is used for many purposes
because it is soft and pliable.
The woman had cut a slit for the Patchwork
Girl's mouth and sewn two rows of white pearls
in it for teeth, using a strip of scarlet plush for
a tongue. This mouth Ojo considered very artistic
and lifelike, and Margolotte was pleased when the
boy praised it. There were almost too many patches
on the face of the girl for her to be considered
strictly beautiful, for one cheek was yellow and
the other red, her chin blue, her forehead purple
and the center, where her nose had been formed and
padded, a bright yellow.
"You ought to have had her face all pink,"
suggested the boy.
"I suppose so; but I had no pink cloth," replied
the woman. "Still, I cannot see as it matters
much, for I wish my Patchwork Girl to be useful
rather than ornamental. If I get tired looking at
her patched face I can whitewash it."
"Has she any brains?" asked Ojo.
"No; I forgot all about the brains!" exclaimed
the woman. "I am glad you reminded me of
them, for it is not too late to supply them, by
any means. Until she is brought to life I can
do anything I please with this girl. But I must
be careful not to give her too much brains, and
those she has must be such as are fitted to the
station she is to occupy in life. In other words,
her brains mustn't be very good."
"Wrong," said Unc Nunkie.
"No; I am sure I am right about that," returned
the woman.
"He means," explained Ojo, "that unless your
servant has good brains she won't know how to obey
you properly, nor do the things you ask her to
do."
"Well, that may be true," agreed Margolotte;
"but, on the contrary, a servant with too much
brains is sure to become independent and high-
and-mighty and feel above her work. This is a
very delicate task, as I said, and I must take
care to give the girl just the right quantity of
the right sort of brains. I want her to know just
enough, but not too much."
With this she went to another cupboard which was
filled with shelves. All the shelves were lined
with blue glass bottles, neatly labeled by the
Magician to show what they contained. One whole
shelf was marked: "Brain Furniture," and the
bottles on this shelf were labeled as follows:
"Obedience," "Cleverness," "Judgment," "Courage,"
"Ingenuity," "Amiability," "Learning," "Truth,"
"Poesy," "Self Reliance."
"Let me see," said Margolotte; "of those
qualities she must have 'Obedience' first of all,"
and she took down the bottle bearing that label
and poured from it upon a dish several grains of
the contents. "'Amiability' is also good and
'Truth.'" She poured into the dish a quantity from
each of these bottles. "I think that will do," she
continued, "for the other qualities are not needed
in a servant."
Unc Nunkie, who with Ojo stood beside her,
touched the bottle marked "Cleverness."
"Little," said he.
"A little 'Cleverness'? Well, perhaps you are
right, sir," said she, and was about to take down
the bottle when the Crooked Magician suddenly
called to her excitedly from the fireplace.
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