"Ah, if the Empress could only see you!" he murmured rapturously.
"Where—where is she?" asked the Scarecrow, looking around nervously. His long, care-free life in Oz had somewhat unfitted him, he reflected, for family life.
"Alas!" sighed the Grand Chew Chew, wiping his eyes on the sleeve of his kimona, "She has returned to her silver ancestors."
"Then show me her picture," commanded the Scarecrow, visibly affected. The Grand Chew Chew stepped to a side wall and pulling a silken cord disclosed the picture of a large gray lady, with curiously small eyes and a curiously large nose.
"Is she not beautiful?" asked the Grand Chew Chew bowing his head.
"Beautiful—er—er—beautiful!" gulped the Scarecrow. He thought of lovely little Ozma and dear little Dorothy and all at once felt terribly upset and homesick. He had no recollection of the Silver Island or his life here whatever. Who was he anyway—the Scarecrow of Oz or Emperor Chang Wang Woe? He couldn't be both.
"Ah!" whispered the Grand Chew Chew, seeing his agitation, "You remember her?" The Scarecrow
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