John Dough and the Cherub

by L. Frank Baum

"Wait a minute!" cried Chick, "I've an idea."

Away trotted the chubby legs, and presently the child returned with a long, slender leaf, plucked from one of the strange forest plants.

"This'll saw gingerbread all right, I'm sure. Hold out your hand, John Dough!"

John turned away his head and held out his left hand—the one from which Black Ooboo had eaten the finger.

"There! It's all over. Did it hurt?" asked Chick.

"No." John looked at the arm where his hand had been.

"It isn't much worse than it was before," said the child. "You'll never miss it in the world. Now wait here while I go to the Princess."

After Chick had vanished into the girl's dwelling the gingerbread man gave a sigh of relief.

"It wasn't as bad as I feared," he said to himself; "but I'm glad the ordeal is over. If I take good care of myself hereafter, and manage to escape from Ali Dubh, I can get along very well without the gingerbread I have lost."