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