"In the service of his Majesty King Kleaver," said another.
"And you are our prisoners," said a third.
Dorothy sat down on an old stump and looked at them, her eyes twinkling with amusement.
"What would happen," she inquired, "if I should set my dog on your Brigade?"
"He would die," replied one of the spoons, sharply. "One shot from our deadly muskets would kill him, big as he is."
"Don't risk it, Dorothy," advised the Yellow Hen. "Remember this is a fairy country, yet none of us three happens to be a fairy."
Dorothy grew sober at this.
"P'raps you're right, Billina," she answered. "But how funny it is, to be captured by a lot of spoons!"
"I do not see anything very funny about it," declared a spoon. "We're the regular military brigade of the kingdom."
"What kingdom?" she asked.