"We'll probably find a much better place to have breakfast as we fly along," murmured Pigasus as Dorothy seated herself between his wings, holding her small basket of supplies in her lap.
"Would it do any harm to stop at the farm
And enquire about Ozma and spread the alarm?"
asked Dorothy, who had rather counted on a cheerful breakfast at the farm house.
"No, it wouldn't do any harm," answered Pigasus, rising in a straight line from the tulip bed and winging rapidly over the yellow fields and fences, "but neither would it do any good. Farmers never know what's happening or going to happen. I tell you, though, we'll ask the first person we meet."
"Who would we meet in the air but a bird?
Now really Pigasus, that's simply absurd."
"Some of the smartest people I know are birds," insisted the pig stoutly. "Take Roger, for instance, he knows more than most of us have forgotten. But look! A brook, a quiet wood! Stop! Listen! Look! For I crave food!" Making a swift downward curve, Pigasus landed cleverly by a rippling stream edged by some tall butternut trees. There were yellow raspberries along the bank and the berries, with some of the sandwiches Dorothy had brought with her, washed down by cool water from the brook made a splendid breakfast.
"I wonder whether they'll have the tableaux and pageant without me," sighed Dorothy, biting slowly into a sardine sandwich, "and how'll they manage the circus without you, Piggins, or the picnic supper without Ozma, or the magic and fireworks without the Wizard."