Behind the soldiers the green carpet rolled itself up again, so that there was always just enough of it for the procession to walk upon, in order that their feet might not come in contact with the deadly, life-destroying sands of the desert.

Dorothy knew at once it was a magic carpet she beheld, and her heart beat high with hope and joy as she realized she was soon to be rescued and allowed to greet her dearly beloved friends of Oz—­the Scarecrow, the Tin Woodman and the Cowardly Lion.

Indeed, the girl felt herself as good as rescued as soon as she recognized those in the procession, for she well knew the courage and loyalty of her old comrades, and also believed that any others who came from their marvelous country would prove to be pleasant and reliable acquaintances.

As soon as the last bit of desert was passed and all the procession, from the beautiful and dainty Ozma to the last soldier, had reached the grassy meadows of the Land of Ev, the magic carpet rolled itself together and entirely disappeared.

Then the chariot driver turned her Lion and Tiger into a broad roadway leading up to the palace, and the others followed, while Dorothy still gazed from her tower window in eager excitement.

They came quite close to the front door of the palace and then halted, the Scarecrow dismounting from his Saw-Horse to approach the sign fastened to the door, that he might read what it said.

Dorothy, just above him, could keep silent no longer.

“Here I am!” she shouted, as loudly as she could.  “Here’s Dorothy!”

“Dorothy who?” asked the Scarecrow, tipping his head to look upward until he nearly lost his balance and tumbled over backward.

“Dorothy Gale, of course.  Your friend from Kansas,” she answered.

“Why, hello, Dorothy!” said the Scarecrow.  “What in the world are you doing up there?”

“Nothing,” she called down, “because there’s nothing to do.  Save me, my friend—­save me!”

“You seem to be quite safe now,” replied the Scarecrow.

“But I’m a prisoner.  I’m locked in, so that I can’t get out,” she pleaded.

“That’s all right,” said the Scarecrow.  “You might be worse off, little Dorothy.  Just consider the matter.  You can’t get drowned, or be run over by a Wheeler, or fall out of an apple-tree.  Some folks would think they were lucky to be up there.”

“Well, I don’t,” declared the girl, “and I want to get down immed’i’tly and see you and the Tin Woodman and the Cowardly Lion.”

“Very well,” said the Scarecrow, nodding.  “It shall be just as you say, little friend.  Who locked you up?”

“The princess Langwidere, who is a horrid creature,” she answered.

At this Ozma, who had been listening carefully to the conversation, called to Dorothy from her chariot, asking: 

“Why did the Princess lock you up, my dear?”

“Because,” exclaimed Dorothy, “I wouldn’t let her have my head for her collection, and take an old, cast-off head in exchange for it.”