John Dough and the Cherub

by L. Frank Baum

"Do you really mean it?"

"Of course."

"Oh, your Majesty, I couldn't hurt the poor thing!" sobbed the Executioner. "It would be simply awful! Please change your mind, as you always have done."

"I won't," said the kinglet, sternly. "You do as I tell you, Maria Simpson, or I'll have you executed next!"

The girl hesitated. Then she took the sword in both her hands, shut her eyes, and struck downward with all her might. The blade fell upon the Indian's neck and shivered into several pieces.

"He's wood, your Majesty," said the Executioner. "I simply can't cut his head off."

"Get a meat cleaver!" cried the kinglet. "Do you suppose I'll allow Wart-on-the-Nose to live when he hasn't any wart on his nose? Get the cleaver instantly!"

So the girl brought a big meat cleaver, and lifting it high in the air, struck the Indian's neck as hard as she could.

The cleaver stuck fast in the wood; but it didn't cut far enough to do much harm to the victim. Indeed, Wart-on-the-Nose even laughed, and then he said: