in my eye that keeps me from thinking."
Happy Toko, at the sound of a voice from the rumpled heap of clothing, gave a great leap.
"Is there any straw about?" asked the Scarecrow anxiously. "Why don't you turn me over?"
"It's his ghost," moaned Happy Toko, and then because he dared not disobey a royal ghost, he turned the Scarecrow over with trembling hands.
"Don't be alarmed," said the Scarecrow, smiling reassuringly, "I'm not breakable like you meat people. A little straw will make me good as new. A little straw—straw, do you hear?" For Happy's pigtail was still on end, and he was shaking so that his silver shoes clattered on the rocks.
"I command you to fetch straw!" cried the Scarecrow at last, in an angry voice. Happy dashed away.
When he returned with an arm full of straw the Scarecrow managed to convince him that he was quite alive. "It is impossible to kill a person from Oz," he explained proudly, "and that is why my present figure is so much more satisfactory than yours. I do not have to eat or sleep and can always be repaired. Have you some safety pins?" Happy produced several and under the Scarecrow's direction stuffed out his chest and pinned up his rents.
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