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"I wonder," said Dorothy, thoughtfully, "if we
couldn't find someone in the Land of Oz who would be
willing to become a green monkey? Seems to me a monkey
is active and spry, and he can climb trees and do a lot
of clever things, and green isn't a bad color for a
monkey -- it makes him unusual."
"I wouldn't ask anyone to take this dreadful form,"
said Woot; "it wouldn't be right, you know. I've been a
monkey for some time, now, and I don't like it. It
makes me ashamed to be a beast of this sort when by
right of birth I'm a boy; so I'm sure it would be
wicked to ask anyone else to take my place."
They were all silent, for they knew he spoke the
truth. Dorothy was almost ready to cry with pity and
Ozma's sweet face was sad and disturbed. The Scarecrow
rubbed and patted his stuffed head to try to make it
think better, while the Tin Woodman went into the house
and began to oil his tin joints so that the sorrow of
his friends might not cause him to weep. Weeping is
liable to rust tin, and the Emperor prided himself upon
his highly polished body -- now doubly dear to him
because for a time he had been deprived of it.
Polychrome had danced down the garden paths and back
again a dozen times, for she was seldom still a moment,
yet she had heard Ozma's speech and understood very
well Woot's unfortunate position. But the Rainbow's
Daughter, even while dancing, could think and reason
very clearly, and suddenly she solved the problem in
the nicest possible way. Coming close to Ozma, she
said:
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