"Approaching Emerald City!" shouted the Lion.
"Point your broomsticks down," said the Witch. "We're coming in to land."
As they zoomed down, people strolling about the streets looked up.
"Run!" they heard someone shout. "Run for your life! It's the Wicked Witch!"
"Oh, dear," said the Witch. "It's these clothes again. They never fail to put a scare into people. My pointed hat especially scares them."
"Then take it off," shouted Dorothy above the wind. "It won't be long before you'll be rid of the witch-clothes, too. I don't think, though, that the people are as frightened of those as they are of the broomsticks. I should have thought of that before."
Everyone landed without mishap. Of course, the streets were now deserted. They walked across the street to the Scarecrow's palace. Oddly, the entrance was barred.
"I'm locked out of my own castle?" said the Scarecrow, as he rang the bell.
A little door in the big door opened, and the Guardian of the Gates peered out at them. "Who are you?" he said, rather sharply.
"I am your king, as appointed by the Wonderful Wizard of Oz himself. This is Dorothy, and we are her friends."