"Tell us, Scraps!" begged Dorothy.
"I don't want to wear my brains out with overwork," replied the Patchwork Girl.
"Don't you love Ozma? And don't you want to find her?" asked Betsy reproachfully.
"Yes, indeed," said Scraps, walking on her hands as an acrobat does at the circus.
"Well, we can't find Ozma unless we get past these thistles," declared Dorothy.
Scraps danced around them two or three times, without reply. Then she said:
"Don't look at me, you stupid folks; look at those blankets."
The Wizard's face brightened at once.
"Of course!" he exclaimed. "Why didn't we think of those blankets before?"
"Because you haven't magic brains," laughed Scraps. "Such brains as you have are of the common sort that grow in your heads, like weeds in a garden. I'm sorry for you people who have to be born in order to be alive."