She was awakened by a shock, so sudden and severe that if
Dorothy had not been lying on the soft bed she might have been
hurt. As it was, the jar made her catch her breath and wonder what
had happened; and Toto put his cold little nose into her face and
whined dismally. Dorothy sat up and noticed that the house was not
moving; nor was it dark, for the bright sunshine came in at the
window, flooding the little room. She sprang from her bed and with
Toto at her heels ran and opened the door.
The little girl gave a cry of amazement and looked about her,
her eyes growing bigger and bigger at the wonderful sights she
saw.
The cyclone had set the house down very gently—for a cyclone—in
the midst of a country of marvelous beauty. There were lovely
patches of greensward all about, with stately trees bearing rich
and luscious fruits. Banks of gorgeous flowers were on every hand,
and birds with rare and brilliant plumage sang and fluttered in the
trees and bushes. A little way off was a small brook, rushing and
sparkling along between green banks, and murmuring in a voice very
grateful to a little girl who had lived so long on the dry, gray
prairies.
While she stood looking eagerly at the strange and beautiful
sights, she noticed coming toward her a group of the queerest
people she had ever seen. They were not as big as the grown folk
she had always been used to; but neither were they very small. In
fact, they seemed about as tall as Dorothy, who was a well-grown
child for her age, although they were, so far as looks go, many
years older.
Three were men and one a woman, and all were oddly dressed. They
wore round hats that rose to a small point a foot above their
heads, with little bells around the brims that tinkled sweetly as
they moved. The hats of the men were blue; the little woman's hat
was white, and she wore a white gown that hung in pleats from her
shoulders. Over it were sprinkled little stars that glistened in
the sun like diamonds. The men were dressed in blue, of the samethe sun like diamonds. The men were dressed in blue, of the same
shade as their hats, and wore well-polished boots with a deep roll
of blue at the tops. The men, Dorothy thought, were about as old as
Uncle Henry, for two of them had beards. But the little woman was
doubtless much older. Her face was covered with wrinkles, her hair
was nearly white, and she walked rather stiffly.
When these people drew near the house where Dorothy was standing
in the doorway, they paused and whispered among themselves, as if
afraid to come farther. But the little old woman walked up to
Dorothy, made a low bow and said, in a sweet voice:
"You are welcome, most noble Sorceress, to the land of the
Munchkins. We are so grateful to you for having killed the Wicked
Witch of the East, and for setting our people free from
bondage."
Dorothy listened to this speech with wonder. What could the
little woman possibly mean by calling her a sorceress, and saying
she had killed the Wicked Witch of the East? Dorothy was an
innocent, harmless little girl, who had been carried by a cyclone
many miles from home; and she had never killed anything in all her
life.
But the little woman evidently expected her to answer; so
Dorothy said, with hesitation, "You are very kind, but there must
be some mistake. I have not killed anything."
"Your house did, anyway," replied the little old woman, with a
laugh, "and that is the same thing. See!" she continued, pointing
to the corner of the house. "There are her two feet, still sticking
out from under a block of wood."
Dorothy looked, and gave a little cry of fright. There, indeed,
just under the corner of the great beam the house rested on, two
feet were sticking out, shod in silver shoes with pointed toes.
"Oh, dear! Oh, dear!" cried Dorothy, clasping her hands together
in dismay. "The house must have fallen on her. Whatever shall we
do?"
"There is nothing to be done," said the little woman calmly.
"But who was she?" asked Dorothy.
"She was the Wicked Witch of the East, as I said," answered the"But who was she?" asked Dorothy.
"She was the Wicked Witch of the East, as I said," answered the
little woman. "She has held all the Munchkins in bondage for many
years, making them slave for her night and day. Now they are all
set free, and are grateful to you for the favor."
"Who are the Munchkins?" inquired Dorothy.
"They are the people who live in this land of the East where the
Wicked Witch ruled."
"Are you a Munchkin?" asked Dorothy.
"No, but I am their friend, although I live in the land of the
North. When they saw the Witch of the East was dead the Munchkins
sent a swift messenger to me, and I came at once. I am the Witch of
the North."
"Oh, gracious!" cried Dorothy. "Are you a real witch?"
"Yes, indeed," answered the little woman. "But I am a good
witch, and the people love me. I am not as powerful as the Wicked
Witch was who ruled here, or I should have set the people free
myself."
"But I thought all witches were wicked," said the girl, who was
half frightened at facing a real witch. "Oh, no, that is a great
mistake. There were only four witches in all the Land of Oz, and
two of them, those who live in the North and the South, are good
witches. I know this is true, for I am one of them myself, and
cannot be mistaken. Those who dwelt in the East and the West were,
indeed, wicked witches; but now that you have killed one of them,
there is but one Wicked Witch in all the Land of Oz—the one who
lives in the West."
"But," said Dorothy, after a moment's thought, "Aunt Em has told
me that the witches were all dead—years and years ago."
"Who is Aunt Em?" inquired the little old woman.
"She is my aunt who lives in Kansas, where I came from."
The Witch of the North seemed to think for a time, with her head
bowed and her eyes upon the ground. Then she looked up and said, "I
do not know where Kansas is, for I have never heard that country
mentioned before. But tell me, is it a civilized country?"
"Oh, yes," replied Dorothy.
"Then that accounts for it. In the civilized countries I believe