"Yes, old Grandpapapapapah!" chorused the Princes bending over as far as they could.
"Wait!" said the Scarecrow hastily, "I'll tell you a story. Once upon a time, to a beautiful country called Oz, which is surrounded on all sides by a deadly desert, there came a little girl named Dorothy. A terrible gale—. Well what's the matter now?" The Scarecrow stopped short, for the oldest Prince had jerked a book out of his sleeve and was flipping over the pages industriously.
"It is not on the map, great Grandpapapapah," he announced solemnly, and all of the other little Princes shook their heads and said dully, "Not on the map."
"Not on the map—Oz? Of course it's not. Do you suppose we want all the humans in creation coming there?" Calming down the Scarecrow tried to continue his story, but every time he mentioned Oz the little Princes shook their heads stubbornly and whispered, "Not on the map," till the usually good tempered Scarecrow flew into perfect passion.
"Not on the map, you little villains!" he screamed, forgetting they were his grandsons. "What difference does that make? Are your heads solid silver?"
"We do not believe in Oz," announced the oldest Prince serenely. "There is no such place."
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