Gradually, her eyes focused on Dorothy's pretty features. Hatred began to well up inside her. She stood up shakily, then collapsed in a faint. "Quickly!" said Dorothy. "More water."
The Lion ran to the stream and filled the Tin Woodman's hat to the brim. He carried the funnel in his mouth as he ran back to Dorothy, spilling most of it on the way.
Dorothy sat the witch up and pressed the rim of the funnel to her lips. "Drink," she said as she tilted it. The witch took a sip, then collapsed again.
"I don't think she's going to make it," said the Tin Woodman.
"We must try to save her," said Dorothy, as she sprinkled the few remaining drops of water on the witch's face.
The witch opened her eyes again, then sat up by herself. She looked incredulously at Dorothy, and, shaking her head in disbelief, said, "You are trying to save me?" Her voice was little more than a whisper.
"You must get some rest now," said Dorothy. "We'll talk later."
The witch closed her eyes and seemed to go into a peaceful sleep.
"Well, what shall we do now?" said the Lion.
"At least she didn't get mad at us," said the Scarecrow.