The Woggle-Bug bowed with profound grace.
"It will give me great pleasure," said he, "to accept your kind invitation; for nowhere in the Land of Oz could I hope to meet with so congenial a company."
"That is true," acknowledged the Pumpkinhead. "We are quite as congenial as flies and honey."
"But—pardon me if I seem inquisitive—are you not all rather—ahem!—rather unusual?" asked the Woggle-Bug, looking from one to another with unconcealed interest.
"Not more so than yourself," answered the Scarecrow. "Everything in life is unusual until you get accustomed to it."
"What rare philosophy!" exclaimed the Woggle-Bug, admiringly.
"Yes; my brains are working well today," admitted the Scarecrow, an accent of pride in his voice.
"Then, if you are sufficiently rested and refreshed, let us bend our steps toward the Emerald City," suggested the magnified one.
"We can't," said Tip. "The Saw-Horse has broken a leg, so he can't bend his steps. And there is no wood around to make him a new limb from. And we can't leave the horse behind because the Pumpkinhead is so stiff in his joints that he has to ride."