"Isn't it damp?" asked Dorothy.
"Not very. There isn't much left but the shell, you see, and it will last a long time yet."
"I think you are brighter than you used to be, Jack," said the Tin Woodman. "Your last head was a stupid one."
"The seeds in this one are better," was the reply.
"Are you going to Ozma's party?" asked Dorothy.
"Yes," said he; "I wouldn't miss it for anything. Ozma's my parent, you know, because she built my body and carved my pumpkin head. I'll follow you to the Emerald City to-morrow, where we shall meet again. I can't go to-day, because I have to plant fresh pumpkin-seeds and water the young vines. But give my love to Ozma, and tell her I'll be there in time for the jubilation."
"We will," she promised; and then they all left him and resumed their journey.
