Scraps nodded. “I don’t see why she wanted a bear for a pet,” she added frankly.
“You look bright, but I’m afraid you’re quite dumb,” sniffed the bear, climbing out of the chest. “Why shouldn’t she have a bear for a pet? Isn’t a bear about the crossest pet one could find? I helped Cross Patch with the grumbling and growling when she was tired. I’ll help you if you wish, though it will be a little harder. Just looking at you makes me want to laugh.”
“Well, why don’t you?” asked Scraps, seating herself in the rocker again.
“Sh—hh! Do you want me to lose my position?” breathed the little bear, looking around anxiously. “I mustn’t laugh. Don’t you know a bear is supposed to be cross? You have to be pretty cross to keep your place in this country!”
“Well, I don’t intend to stay in this country,” announced Scraps, rocking vigorously backward and forward. “I was kidnapped and crowned Queen against my will and I intend to run away as soon as I can. Princess Ozma may send for me any minute, too. All she has to do is to look in the Magic Picture.” This was quite true, for in Ozma’s palace hangs an enchanted picture, showing a country landscape. If the little fairy ruler wishes to locate any of her subjects, she has but to command them to appear and the Magic Picture immediately shows where they are and what they are doing. All of this, and a bit about Ozma and the Emerald City, Scraps explained to the cross little bear and he listened most earnestly, wiggling his buttony nose with interest.
“What’s your name?” asked Scraps presently.
“Grumpy!” answered the bear gruffly. “What’s yours?”
“Scraps!” said the Patchwork Girl, kicking her heels against the rocker.
Now, one of the delightful things about Oz is that all the animals and birds can talk; and as talk of any kind interested Scraps she began to feel quite cheerful and like herself.
“You mean Queen Scraps,” corrected the little bear, eyeing the work-basket on her head with great respect.