"I doubt it, I doubt it very much," persisted the Dromedary, wagging his head sorrowfully.
"You seem to doubt everything!" Dorothy laughed in spite of herself, and the Dromedary regarded her sulkily.
"He does," said the Camel. "It makes him very doubtful company. Now, I like to be comfortable and happy, and you can't be if you're always doubting things and people and places. Eh, my dear?"
"Where did you comfortable and doubtful parties come from?" asked the Cowardly Lion. "Strangers here?"
"Well, yes," admitted the Camel, nibbling the branch of a tree. "There was a terrific sandstorm, and after blowing and blowing and blowing, we found ourselves in this little wood. The odd part of it is that you talk in our language. Never knew a two-leg to understand a word of Camelia before."
"You're not talking Camelia, you're talking Ozish," laughed Dorothy. "All animals can talk here."
"Well, now, that's very comfortable, I must say," sighed the Camel, "and if you'd just tell me where to go, it would be more comfortable still."
"I doubt that," snapped the Dromedary. "They're no caravan."
"Where do you want to go?" asked the Cowardly Lion, ignoring the Doubtful Dromedary.
"Anywhere, just so we keep moving. We're used to being told when to start and stop, and life is mighty lonely without our Karwan Bashi," sighed the Comfortable Camel.