"It's these clothes again. They never fail
to put a scare into people. My pointed hat especially scares them."
"Then take it off," shouted Dorothy above the wind. "It won't be long
before you'll be rid of the witch-clothes, too. I don't think, though,
that the people are as frightened of those as they are of the
broomsticks. I should have thought of that before."
Everyone landed without mishap. Of course, the streets were now
deserted. They walked across the street to the Scarecrow's palace.
Oddly, the entrance was barred.
"I'm locked out of my own castle?" said the Scarecrow, as he rang the bell.
A little door in the big door opened, and the Guardian of the Gates
peered out at them. "Who are you?" he said, rather sharply.
"I am your king, as appointed by the Wonderful Wizard of Oz himself.
This is Dorothy, and we are her friends."
"What about her?" said the guard, staring at the Witch suspiciously.
"She's our friend, too," said the Tin Woodman.
"I don't believe you," said the guardian, and he slammed the little door
shut.
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