The Lion gingerly opened the gates and peered in. "Not a soul in sight,"
he said. "Maybe they're all at a convention or something," he added
hopefully.
As they walked, everyone felt better. Tickleland was quite pretty,
really. Rolling hills of green grass and clumps of trees here and there.
As they approached some trees, they noticed a well. "Would you like a
drink of water, Dorothy?" asked the Tin Woodman.
"Oh yes, please," replied Dorothy. "I'm quite thirsty."
As the tin man lowered the bucket, he began to relax.
"Well," remarked the Scarecrow, "it looks as though we may walk right
through Tickleland without seeing one Ticklemonster. Tickleland's not
very big, you know. Look, there -- the border's right there." Everyone
turned in the direction he was pointing in and, sure enough, the border
was about the same distance as they'd traveled so far.
"What a relief," said Dorothy as the Tin Woodman handed her a ladle of
water from the well. "Mmmm, this is good," said Dorothy. "So refreshing."
"Surprise!" said a loud voice.
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