"Quiet! QUIET!" The Scarecrow, who with Glinda, the Wizard, Dorothy, Betsy and Trot, now came hurrying into the room, raised both arms and looked around pleadingly. The whole royal party, traveling in Glinda's swan chariot, had just arrived on the balcony outside, but Ozma, Scraps and the Soldier with Green Whiskers had been first on the scene of action.
"The boy is right," declared Glinda, crossing slowly to a green sofa. "I can see by her face and hands—" Glinda smiled faintly—"that this girl is both honest and industrious."
"Thanks!" murmured Handy, as the Scarecrow, ever a gentleman, bounded forward to assist her to her feet. The flimsy straw stuffed fellow lost his balance in the attempt, but his little act of gallantry did much to relieve an awkward moment.
"You see," puffed the Scarecrow, seating Handy with a flourish, "for the last ten days we've all been pretty much upset around here and you'll have to excuse Scraps for jumping at conclusions."
"Please do!" Ozma spoke pleasantly and seriously as she seated herself in her small arm chair, leaning over to take the Gnome King's belt from Scraps. "But if some of you kind people will just explain?" The Little Fairy looked anxiously from the stupefied Tiger and Lion to her pulverized safe, her eyes coming back to rest on the Goat Girl, the great White Ox and the handsome young Munchkin.
