The emerald city of oz

aptain was wrong to bring this girl here, and she was wrong to come,” he said. “But now that the foolish deed is done let us all prove our mettle and have a slashing good time.”
“That`s it! that`s it!” screamed a fat choppingknife. “We`ll make mincemeat of the girl and hash of the chicken and sausage of the dog!”
There was a shout of approval at this and the King had to rap again for order.
“Gentlemen, gentlemen!” he said, “your remarks are somewhat cutting and rather disjointed, as might be expected from such acute intellects. But you give me no reasons for your demands.”
“See here, Kleaver; you make me tired,” said a saucepan, strutting before the King very impudently. “You`re about the worst King that ever reigned in Utensia, and that`s saying a good deal. Why don`t you run things yourself, instead of asking everybody`s advice, like the big, clumsy idiot you are?”
The King sighed.
“I wish there wasn`t a saucepan in my kingdom,” he said. “You fellows are always stewing, over something, and every once in a while you slop over and make a mess of it. Go hang yourself, sirby the handleand don`t let me hear from you again.”
Dorothy was much shocked by the dreadful language the utensils employed, and she thought that they must have had very little proper training. So she said, addressing the King, who seemed very unfit to rule his turbulent subjects:
“I wish you`d decide my fate right away. I can`t stay here all day, trying to find out what you`re going to do with me.”
“This thing is becoming a regular broil, and it`s time I took part in it,” observed a big gridiron, coming forward.
“What I`d like to know,” said a can-opener, in a shrill voice, “is why the little girl came to our forest anyhow and why she intruded upon Captain Dippwho ought to be called Dippyand who she is, and where she came from, and where she is going, and why and wherefore and therefore and when.”
“I`m sorry to see, Sir Jabber,” remarked the King to the can-opener, “that you have such a prying disposition. As a matter of fact, all the things you mention are none of our business.”
Having said this the King relighted his pipe, which had gone out.
“Tell me, please, what IS our business?” inquired a potato-masher, winking at Dorothy somewhat impertinently. “I`m fond of little girls, myself, and it seems to me she has as much right to wander in the forest as we have.”
“Who accuses the little girl, anyway?” inquired a rolling-pin. “What has she done?”
“I don`t know,” said the King. “What has she done, Captain Dipp?”
“That`s the trouble, your Majesty. She hasn`t done anything,” replied the Captain.
“What do you want me to do?” asked Dorothy.
This question seemed to puzzle them all. Finally, a chafingdish, exclaimed irritably:
“If no one can throw any light on this subject you must excuse me if I go out.”
At this, a big kitchen fork pricked up its ears and said in a tiny voice:
“Let`s hear from Judge Sifter.”
“That`s proper,” returned the King.
So Judge Sifter turned around slowly several times and then said:
“We have nothing against the girl except the stove-hearth upon which she sits. Therefore I order her instantly discharged.”
“Discharged!” cried Dorothy. “Why, I never was discharged in my life, and I don`t intend to be. If it`s all the same to you, I`ll resign.”
“It`s all the same,” declared the King. “You are freeyou and your companionsand may go wherever you like.”
“Thank you,” said the little girl. “But haven`t you anything to eat in your kingdom? I`m hungry.”
“Go into the woods and pick blackberries,” advised the King, lying down upon his back again and preparing to go to sleep. “There isn`t a morsel to eat in all Utensia, that I know of.”
So Dorothy jumped up and said:
“Come on, Toto and Billina. If we can`t find the camp, we may find some blackberries.”
The utensils drew back and allowed them to pass without protest, although Captain Dipp marched the Spoon Brigade in close order after them until they had reached the edge of the clearing.
There the spoons halted; but Dorothy and her companions entered the forest again and began searching diligently for a way back to the camp, that they might rejoin their party.

Chapter 17. How they came to bunbury.

Wandering through the woods, without knowing where you are going or what adventure you are about to meet next, is not as pleasant as one might think. The woods are always beautiful and impressive, and if you are not worried or hungry you may enjoy them immensely; but Dorothy was worried and hungry that morning, so she paid little attention to the beauties of the forest, and hurried along as fast as she could go. She tried to keep in one direction and not circle around, but she was not at all sure that the direction she had chosen would lead her to the camp.
By and by, to her great joy, she came upon a path. It ran to the right and to the left, being lost in the trees in both directions, and just before her, upon a big oak, were fastened two signs, with arms pointing both ways. One sign read:
TAKE THE OTHER ROAD TO BUNBURY
and the second sign read:
TAKE THE OTHER ROAD TO BUNNYBURY
“Well!” exclaimed Billina, eyeing the signs, “this looks as if we were getting back to civilization again.”
“I`m not sure about the civil`zation, dear,” replied the little girl; “but it looks as if we might get SOMEWHERE, and that`s a big relief, anyhow.”
“Which path shall we take?” inquired the Yellow Hen.
Dorothy stared at the signs thoughtfully.
“Bunbury sounds like something to eat,” she said. “Let`s go there.”
“It`s all the same to me,” replied Billina. She had picked up enough bugs and insects from the moss as she went along to satisfy her own hunger, but the hen knew Dorothy could not eat bugs; nor could Toto.
The path to Bunbury seemed little traveled, but it was distinct enough and ran through the trees in a zigzag course until it finally led them to an open space filled with the strangest houses Dorothy had ever seen. They were all made of crackers laid out in tiny squares, and were of many pretty and ornamental shapes, having balconies and porches with posts of bread-sticks and roofs shingled with wafer-crackers.
There were walks of bread-crusts leading from house to house and forming streets, and the place seemed to have many inhabitants.
When Dorothy, followed by Billina and Toto, entered the place, they found people walking the streets or assembled in groups talking together, or sitting upon the porches and balconies.
And what funny people they were!
Men, women and children were all made of buns and bread. Some were thin and others fat; some were white, some light brown and some very dark of complexion. A few of the buns, which seemed to form the more important class of the people, were neatly frosted. Some had raisins for eyes and currant buttons on their clothes; others had eyes of cloves and legs of stick cinnamon, and many wore hats and bonnets frosted pink and green.
There was something of a commotion in Bunbury when the strangers suddenly appeared among them. Women caught up their children and hurried into their houses, shutting the cracker doors carefully behind them. Some men ran so hastily that they tumbled over one another, while others, more brave, assembled in a group and faced the intruders defiantly.
Dorothy at once realized that she must act with caution in order not to frighten these shy people, who were evidently unused to the presence of strangers. There was a delightful fragrant odor of fresh bread in the town, and this made the little girl more hungry than ever. She told Toto and Billina to stay back while she slowly advanced toward the group that stood silently awaiting her.
“You must `scuse me for coming unexpected,” she said, softly, “but I really didn`t know I was coming here until I arrived. I was lost in the woods, you know, and I`m as hungry as anything.”
“Hungry!” they murmured, in a horrified chorus.
“Yes; I haven`t had anything to eat since last night`s supper,” she exclaimed. “Are there any eatables in Bunbury?”
They looked at one another undecidedly, and then one portly bun man, who seemed a person of consequence, stepped forward and said:
“Little girl, to be frank with you, we are all eatables. Everything in Bunbury is eatable to ravenous human creatures like you. But it is to escape being eaten and destroyed that we have secluded ourselves in this out-of-the-way place, and there is neither right nor justice in your coming here to feed upon us.”
Dorothy looked at him longingly.
“You`re bread, aren`t you?” she asked.
“Yes; bread and butter. The butter is inside me, so it won`t melt and run. I do the running myself.”
At this joke all the others burst into a chorus of laughter, and Dorothy thought they couldn`t be much afraid if they could laugh like that.
“Couldn`t I eat something besides people?” she asked. “Couldn`t I eat just one house, or a side-walk or something? I wouldn`t mind much what it was, you know.”
“This is not a public bakery, child,” replied the man, sternly. “It`s private property.”
“I know Mr.Mr.”
“My name is C. Bunn, Esquire,” said the man. “`C` stands for Cinnamon, and this place is called after my family, which is the most aristocratic in the town.”
“Oh, I don`t know about that,” objected another of the strange people. “The Grahams and the Browns and Whites are all excellent families, and there is none better of their kind. I`m a Boston Brown, myself.”
“I admit you are all desirable citizens,” said Mr. Bunn rather stiffly; “but the fact remains that our town is called Bunbury.”
“`Scuse me,” interrupted Dorothy; “but I`m getting hungrier every minute. Now, if you`re polite and kind, as I`m sure you ought to be, you`ll let me eat SOMETHING. There`s so much to eat here that you will never miss it.”
Then a big, puffed-up man, of a delicate brown color, stepped forward and said:
“I think it would be a shame to send this child away hungry, especially as she agrees to eat whatever we can spa…