"But if we go to-day, how can we go to-morrow?" asked Ozma, growing more bewildered every minute.
"Danger!" shuddered Trot, pointing a trembling finger at the first word.
"What's all the excitement?" demanded Scraps, dancing up on one toe. Then, seeing they were all staring down at the marble, she bent over and read the message aloud herself.
"Go to-morrow to-day. It can never be done!
Just to think of it gives me a pain in the bun."
screamed the Patch Work Girl, clapping her hand to her cotton forehead.
"Hush, Scraps!" begged Ozma. "This is serious!"
"Someone is delirious, or they'd never write such nonsense," declared Scraps defiantly. "What are you going to do about it?"
"Think!" mumbled the Scarecrow, dropping down on a gold garden bench.