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terribly. She gave a gasp of sheer terror, then, afraid that her fear might fan the enemy’s martial spirit, tried her best to be still. That’s when the leader saw the round mark upon Dorothy’s forehead and, realizing the girl was traveling under the aegis of the Good Witch of the North, stopped short, motioning his lackeys not to touch her.

“We dare not harm this little girl,” he said to them circumspectly, “for, as a protégé of the Good Witch of the North, she is protected by the Power of Good, which predominates over the Power of Evil. All we can do is carry her to the castle of the Wicked Witch and leave her there.”

Carefully and gently they lifted Dorothy in their arms and carried her swiftly through the air until they came to the castle, where they set her down upon the front doorstep. The leader said to the cantankerous, craggy-faced crone, “We have obeyed you as far as we were able. The Tin Woodman and the Scarecrow are destroyed, and the Lion is tied up in your yard. The little girl we dare not harm, nor the dog she carries in her arms.” Then, with a great clatter, the flying flotilla rose into the air and were soon out of sight.

Chapter 15 “The Wicked Witch of the West”

When the Wicked Witch saw the flat, round amulet on Dorothy’s forehead, she blanched, for she knew well that because the girl traveled under the auspices of the Good Witch of the North, neither the Winged Monkeys nor she, herself, dare hurt her in any way. She looked down at Dorothy’s feet and saw the magical Silver Shoes, and a tremor of fear passed over her. But then she happened to look into the child’s artless eyes and saw how simple the soul behind them was. At once she knew that the little girl was completely unaware of the wonderful power the Silver Shoes gave her. The Witch laughed insanely, her fetid breath obtruding itself upon Dorothy’s sensitive nostrils.

Then the hideous hag threw a hard, inimical glance at Dorothy and said, with an obvious display of animosity in her voice, “Come with me, my pulchritudinous little prig, and do everything I tell you or I’ll put an end to you, as I did to the Tin Woodman and the Scarecrow.” Then, almost as an afterthought, she threw in, “And your little dog, too!”

An uncontrollable pounding in her chest made speech impossible, so, forgetting everything but her fear, Dorothy mutely followed her nefarious nemesis through a Byzantine labyrinth of castle hallways and sinuous staircases. The tortuous path at last ended in a grimy kitchen, where the Witch handed the girl a scrub brush, towel, and broom, all of dubious cleanliness, and ordered her to wash and dry all the pots and pans and to sweep the floor. When another abominable, blood-curdling laugh accompanied the Witch’s sudden egress, Toto fled and hid. Now Dorothy sat in morose solitude. Yet in reality

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