"Neither. He's a--a--a meat dog," said the girl.

"Oh! He's a curious animal and seems remarkably small,
now that I look at him. No one would think of biting such a
little thing, except a coward like me," continued the Lion sadly.

"What makes you a coward?" asked Dorothy, looking at the great
beast in wonder, for he was as big as a small horse.

"It's a mystery," replied the Lion. "I suppose I was born
that way. All the other animals in the forest naturally expect me
to be brave, for the Lion is everywhere thought to be the King of
Beasts. I learned that if I roared very loudly every living thing
was frightened and got out of my way. Whenever I've met a man
I've been awfully scared; but I just roared at him, and he has
always run away as fast as he could go. If the elephants and the
tigers and the bears had ever tried to fight me, I should have run
myself--I'm such a coward; but just as soon as they hear me roar
they all try to get away from me, and of course I let them go."

"But that isn't right. The King of Beasts shouldn't be a coward,"
said the Scarecrow.

"I know it," returned the Lion, wiping a tear from his eye
with the tip of his tail. "It is my great sorrow, and makes my
life very unhappy. But whenever there is danger, my heart begins
to beat fast."

"Perhaps you have heart disease," said the Tin Woodman.