"No such place as Oz—Happy, do you hear that?" The Scarecrow's voice fairly crackled with indignation. "Why I thought everybody believed in Oz!"
"Perhaps your Highness can convince them later," suggested the Imperial Punster. "This way, offspring." His Master, he felt, had had enough family for one day. So the fifteen little Princes with fifteen stiff little bows took themselves back to the royal nursery. As for the Scarecrow, he paced disconsolately up and down his magnificent throne room, tripping over his kimona at every other step.
"You're a good boy Tappy," said the Scarecrow as Happy returned, "but I tell you being a grandparent is not what I thought it would be. Did you hear them tell me right to my face they did not believe in Oz? And my sons–ugh!"
"Fault of their bringing up," said Happy Toko comfortingly. "If your serene Highness would just tell me more of that illustrious country!" Happy knew that nothing cheered the Scarecrow like talking of Oz, and to tell the truth, Happy himself never tired of the Scarecrow's marvelous stories. So the two slipped quietly into the palace gardens and the Scarecrow related for the fourteenth time the story of his discovery by Dorothy and the story of Ozma,
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