from L. Frank Baum, Patchwork Girl of Oz

Unc Nunkie [a Munchkin in the land of Oz] knocked at the door of the house and a chubby, pleasant-faced woman [also a Munchkin], dressed all in blue, opened it and greeted the visitors with a smile.

"Ah," said Ojo [Nunkie's nephew]; "you must be Dame Margolotte, the good wife of Dr. Pipt."

"I am, my dear, and all strangers are welcome to my home."

"May we see the famous magician, Madam?" (25) . . . .

She led the way to a great domed hall at the back of the house, which was the Magician's workshop. . . . The Magician was stirring . . . four . . . kettles at the same time, two with his hands and two with his feet, to the latter, wooden ladles being strapped, for this man was so very crooked that his legs were as handy as his arms.

Unc Nunkie came forward to greet his old friend, but not being able to shake either his hands or feet, which were all occupied in stirring, he patted the Magician's bald head and asked: "What?"

"Ah, it's the Silent One," remarked Dr. Pipt, without looking up, "and he wants to know what I'm making. Well, when it is quite finished this compound will be the wonderful Powder of Life, which no one knows how to make but myself. Whenever it is sprinkled on anything, that thing will at once come to life, no matter wht it is. It takes me several years to make this magic Powder, but at this moment I am pleased to say it is nearly done. You see, I am making it for my good wife Margolotte, who wants to use some of it for a purpose of her own. . . ."

"[I]t is perfection," [Margolotte] declared [speaking of Dr. Pipt's recipe for the Powder]. "The first lot we tried on our Glass Cat, which not only began to live but has lived ever since. She's somewhere around the house now."

"A Glass Cat!" exclaimed Ojo, astonished.

"Yes; she makes a very pleasant companion, but she admires herself a little more than is considered modest, and she positively refuses to catch mice," explained Margolotte. "My husband made the cat some pink brains, but they proved to be too high-bred and particular for a cat, so she thinks it is undignified in her to catch mice. Also, she has a pretty blood-red heart, but it is made of stone -- a ruby, I think -- and so is rather hard and and unfeeling. . . ."

"But tell me please, [Margolotte,] what you intend to do with this new lot of the Powder of Life, which Dr. Pipt [the Magician] is making. He said his wife wanted it for some especial purpose."

"So I do," she answered. "I want it to bring my Patchwork Girld to life."

"Oh! A Patchwork Girl? Whati s that?" Ojo asked . . . .

"I think I must show you my Patchwork Girl," said Margolotte, laughing at the boy's astonishment, "for she is rather difficult to explain. But first I will tell you that for many years I have longed for a servant to help me with the housework and to cook the meals and wash the dishes. No servant will come here because the place is so lonely and out-of-the-way, so my clever husband, the Crooked Magician, proposed that I make a girl out of some sort of material and he would make her live by sprinkling over her the Powder of Life. This seemed an excellent suggestion and at once Dr. Pipt set to work to make a new batch of his magic powder. He has been at ti a long, long while, and so I have had plenty of time to make the girl. Yet that task was not as easy as you may suppose. At first I couldn't think of what to make her of, but finally in searching through a chest I came across an old patchwork quilt, which my grandmother once made when she was young."

"What is a patchwork quilt?" asked Ojo.

"A bed-quilt made of patches of different kinds and colors of cloth, all neatly sewed together. The patches are of all shapes and sizes so a patchwork quilt is a very pretty and gorgeous thing to look at. Sometimes it is called a "crazy-quilty," because the patches and colors are so mixed up. We never have used my grandmother's many-colored patchwork quilt, handsome as it is, for we Munchkins do not care for any color other than blue, so it has been packed away in the chest for about a hundred years. When I found it, I said to myself that it would do nicely for my servant girl, for when she was brought to life she would not be proud nor haughty, as the Glass Cat is, for such a dreadful mixture of colors would discourage her from trying to be as dignified as the blue Munchkins are."

"Is blue the only respectable color, then?" inquired Ojo. "Yes, for a Munchkin. All our country is blue, y ou know. But in other parts of Oz the people favor different colors. At the Emerald City, where our Princess Ozma lives, green is the popular color. But all Munchkins prefer blue to anything else and when my housework girl is brought to life she will find herself to be so many unpopular colors that she'll never dare be rebellious or impudent, as servants are sometimes liable to be when they are made the same way ast heir mistresses are. . . . I will show you what a good job I did," and she went to a tall cupboard and threw open the doors.

Then back she came, lugging in her arms the Patchwork Girl, which she set upon the bench and propped up so that the figure would not tumble over. . . .

"You ought to have made her face all pink," suggested the boy.

"I suppose so; but I had no pink cloth," replied the woman. . . .

"Has she any brains?" asked Ojo.

"No; I forgot all about the brains! . . . . But I must be careful not to give her too much brains, and those she has must be such as are fitted to the saation she is to occupy in life. In other words, her brains mustn't be very good. . . . [A] servant with too much brains is sure to become independent and high-and-mighty and feel above her work. This is a very delicate task, as I said, and I must take care to give the girl just the right quantity of the right sort of brains. I want her to know just enough, but not too much."

With this she went to another cupboard which was filled with shelves. . . . One whole shelf was marked: "Brain Furniture," and the bottles on this shelf were labeled as follows: "Obedience," "Cleverness," "Judgment," "Courage," "Ingenuity," "Amiability," "Learning," "Truth," "Poesy," "Self Reliance."

"Let me see," said Margolotte; "of those qualitites she must have 'Obedience' first of all," and she took down the bottle bearing that label and poured from it upon a dish several grains of the contents. "'Amiability' is also good and 'Truth.' She poured into the dish a quantity from each of these bottles. "I think that will do," she continued, "for the other qualities are not needed in a servant." . . .

"Quick, Margolotte! Come and help me" [cried the Crooked Magician.]

. . . .

Unc Nunke, Margolotte and the Magician all stood looking at the marvelous Powder, but Ojo was more interested just then in the Patchwork Girl's brains. Thinking it both unfair and unkind to deprive her of any good qualities that were handy, the boy took down every bottle on the shelf and poured some of the contents in Margolotte's dish . . . (27-40)

[Bungle, the Glass Cat, comes into the Magician's workshop.]

"Who is the dwarf?" asked the cat, [nodding toward Ojo.]

"That is not a dwarf, but a boy," answered the Magician. "You have never seen a boy before. He is now small because he is young. With more years he will grow big and become as tall as [his uncle] Nunkie."

"Oh. Is that magic?" the glass [cat] inquired.

"Yes; but it is Nature's magic, which is more wonderful than any art known to man. For instance, my magic made you, and made you live; and it was a poor job because you are useless and a bother to me; but I can't make you grow. You will always be the same size -- and the same saucy, inconsiderate Glass Cat, with pink brains and a hard ruby heart."

"No one can regret more than I the fact that you made me," asserted the cat, crouching upon the floor and slowly swaying its spun-glass tail from side to side. "Your world is a very uninteresting place. I've wandered through your gardens and in the forest until I'm tire of it all, and when I come into the house the conversation of your fat wife and of yourself bores me dreadfully."

"That is because I gave you different brains from those we ourselves possess -- and much too good for a cat," returned Dr. Pipt.

"Can't you take 'em out, then, and replace 'em with pebbles, so that I won't feel above my station in life?" asked the cat pleadingly.

"Perhaps so. I'll try it after I've brought the Patchwork Girl to life," he said.

The cat walked up to the bench on which the Patchwork Girl reclined and looked at her attentively.

"Are you going to make that dreadful thing live?" she asked.

The Magician nodded.

"It is intended to by my wife [Margolotte's] servant maid," he said. "When she is alive she will do all our work and mind the house. But you are not to order her around, Bungle [the cat's name], as you do us. You must treat the Patchwork Girl respectfully."

"I won't. I couldn't respect such a bundle of scraps under any circumstances. . . . Why didn't you make her pretty to look at?" asked the cat. "You made me pretty -- very pretty, indeed -- and I love to watch my pink brains roll around when they're working, and to see my precious red heart beat." She went to a long mirror, as she said this, and stood before it, looking at herself with an air of much pride. "But that poor patched thing will hate herself, when she's once alive," continued the cat. "If I were you I'd use her for a mop, and make another servant that's prettier."

"You have perverted taste," snapped Margolotte, much annoyed at this frank criticism. "I think the Patchwork Girl is beautiful, considering what she's made of. Even the rainbow hasn't as many colors,and you must admit that the rainbow is a pretty thing."

The Glass Cat yawned and stretched herself upon the floor.

"Have your own way," she said. "I'm sorry for the Patchwork Girl, that's all." (48-50)

[When the Patchwork Girl comes to life, she jumps up suddenly; Unc Nunkie and Margolotte jump back, knocking down a shelf. A bottle containing a magic potion, "the powerful Liquid of Petrifaction," falls onto their heads and turns them to stone. While they all wonder in horror what to do, the Patchwork Girl sees herself for the first time:]

Noticing the mirror, she stood before it and examined her extraordinary features with amazement -- her button eyes, pearl teeth and puffy nose. Then, addressing her reflection in the glass, she exclaimed:

"Whee, but there's a gaudy dame!
Makes a paint-box blush with shame.
Razzle-dazzle, fizzle-fazzle!
Howdy-do, Miss What's-your-name?"

She bowed, and the reflection bowed. Then she laughed again, long and merrily, and the Glass Cat crept out from under the table and said:

"I don't blame you for laughing at yourself. Aren't you horrid?"

"Horrid?" she replied. "Why, I'm thoroughly delightful. I'm an Original, if you please, and therefore incomparable. Of all the comic, absurd, rare and amusing creatures the world contains, I must be the supreme freak. Who but poor Margolotte could have managed to invent such an unreasonable being as I? But I'm glad -- I'm awfully glad! -- that I'm just what I am, and nothing else."

"Be quiet, will you?" cried the frantic Magician; "be quiet and let me think! . . . . The Liquid of Petrifaction has accidentally fallen upon my dear wife and Unc Nunkie and turned them into marble," he [said] sadly . . . .

"Well, why don't you sprinkle some of that powder on them and bring them to life again?" asked the Patchwork Girl.

The Magician gave a jump.

"Why, I hadn't thought of that!" he joyfully cried, and grabbed up the golden bottle, with which he ran to Margolotte. . . . Dr. Pipt began shaking the bottle. But not a grain of powder came out . . . .

"You can make more Powder of Life, Dr. Pipt," [said Ojo.]

"Yes; but it will take me six years -- six long, weary years of stirring four kettles with both feet and both hands," was the agonized reply. " Six years! while poor Margolotte stands watching me as a marble image."

"Can't anything else be done?" asked the Patchwork Girl.

The Magician shook his head. Then he seemed to remember something and looked up.

"There is one other compound that would destroy the magic spell of the Liquid of Petrifaction and restore my wife and Unc Nunkie to life," said he. "it may be hard to find the things I need to make this magic compound, but if they were found I could do in an instant what will otherwise take six long, weary years of stirring kettles with both hands and both feet."

"All right; let's find the things, then," suggested the Patchwork Girl. "That seems a lot more sensiblethan those stirring times with the kettles."

"That's the idea, Scraps," said the Glass Cat, approvingly. I'm glad to find you have decent brains. Mine are exceptionally good. You can see 'em work; they're pink."

"Scraps?" repeated the girl. "Did you call me 'Scraps'? Is that my name?"

"I-I believe my poor wife had intended to name you 'Angeline,'" said the Magician.

"But I like 'Scraps' best," she replied with a laugh. "It fits me better, for my patchwork is all scraps, and nothing else. Thank you for naming me, Miss Cat. . . ." (56-61)

[Patchwork Girl, Ojo, and the Glass Cat set off on a journey through Oz to find the ingredients for a magic potion that will provide an antidote.]

Ojo had never traveled before and so he only knew that the path down the mountainside led into the open Munchkin Country, were large numbers of people dwelt. Scraps was quite new and not supposed to know anything of the Land of Oz, while the Glass Cat admitted she had never wandered far away from the Magician's house. There was only one path before them, at the beginning, so they could not miss their way, and for a time they walked through the thick forest in silent thought, each one impressed with the importance of the adventure they had undertaken.

Suddenly the Patchwork Girl laughed. It was funny to see her laugh, because her cheeks wrinkled up, her nose tipped, her silver button eyes twinkled and her mouth curled at the corners in a comical way.

"Has something pleased you?" asked Ojo, who was feeling solemn and joyless through thinking upon his Uncle's sad fate.

"Yes," she answered. "Your world pleases me, for it's a queer world, and life in it is queerer still. Here am I, made from an old bedquilt and intended to be a slave to Margolotte, rendered free as air by an accident that none of you could foresee. I am enjoying life and seeing the world, while the woman who made me is standing helpless as a block of wood. If that isn't funny enough to laugh at, I don't know what is." (67-68).

[They have many adventures and are delivered from harm's way by "the Shaggy Man":]

Soon the entire party was gathered on the road of yellow bricks, quite beyond the reach of the beautiful but treacherous plants [that had encased them.] The Shaggy Man, staring first at one and then at the other, seemed greatly pleased and interested.

"I've seen queer things since I came to the Land of Oz," said he, "but never anything queerer than this band of adventurers. Let us sit down a while, and have a talk and get acquainted."

"Haven't you always lived in the Land of Oz?" asked the Munchkin boy.

"No; I used to live in the big, outside world. But I came here once with Dorothy, and Ozma let me stay."

"How do you like Oz?" asked Scraps. "Isn't the country and the climate grand?"

"It's the finest country in all the world, even if it is a fairyland, and I'm happy every minute I live in it," said the Shaggy Man. "But tell me something about yourselves. . . .

They were glad enough to be entertained, and listened with interest while the Shaggy Man chanted the following verses to a tune that was not unpleasant:

"I'll sing a song of Ozland, where wondrous creatures dwell
And fruits and flowers and shady bowers abound in every dell,
Where magic is a sicence and where no one shows surprise
If some amazing thing takes place before his very eyes.

Our Ruler's a bewitching girl whom fairies love to please . . . .

And then there's Princess Dorothy, as sweet as any rose,
A lass from Kansas, where they don't grow fairies, I suppose;
And there's the brainy Scarecrow . . . the Woodman made of Tin . . . .
The Cowardly Lion . . . . Tik-tok -- he's a clockwork man and quite a funny sight . . . .

It's hard to name all of the freaks this noble Land's acquired;
'Twould make my song so very long that you would soon be tired; . . . .

Just search the whole world over -- sail the seas from coast to coast --
No other nation in creation queerer folks can boast;
And now our rare museum will include a Cat of Glass,
. . . and -- last but not least -- a crazy Patchwork Lass." . . . .

"Tell me," said the Patchwork Girl earnestly, "do all those queer people you mention really live in the Land of Oz?" (127-145)

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