"Ozma? What a curious name," mused the fisherman, looking pensively at the winged pig. "What gave you the idea that Ozma was our ruler? Perhaps you are strangers here?"
"Well, it would seem so," puffed Pigasus, sitting down and panting a little from sheer discouragement.
"Oh, you'll get used to us," laughed the fisherman with a breezy wave. "Fine country, this; sorry I can't show you 'round, but as I've promised my wife some fish for dinner, I'll have to be moving along. Good day to you. Good day, little girl!"
"Good day," echoed Dorothy in a rather flat voice, as the fisherman, lifting his hat, strode briskly into the wood. "You see!" she groaned. "Even here everyone is bewitched. Oh, Piggins, what'll we do? No one in Oz will help or believe us."
"Goose-tea and turnips! What if they don't!" Pigasus shook his head impatiently. "There are other countries, aren't there? Take Ev, for instance, or Rinkitink, or the Rose Kingdom. Why, there are lots of places whose rulers will remember Ozma, my poor old friend Jinnicky and the others. Come along, my girl, we've only just started.
"While people roar for the Emperor
We'll seek our rightful ruler
From coast to coast from door to door
Though foes grow cruel and crueller!