The Collected Works of L. Frank Baum (Illustrated). L. Frank Baum

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      “Yes; bread and butter. The butter is inside me, so it won’t melt and run. I do the running myself.”

      At this joke all the others burst into a chorus of laughter, and Dorothy thought they couldn’t be much afraid if they could laugh like that.

      “Couldn’t I eat something besides people?” she asked. “Couldn’t I eat just one house, or a sidewalk or something? I wouldn’t mind much what it was, you know.”

      “This is not a public bakery, child,” replied the man, sternly. “It’s private property.”

      “I know Mr.—Mr.—”

      “My name is C. Bunn, Esquire,” said the man. “‘C’ stands for Cinnamon, and this place is called after my family, which is the most aristocratic in the town.”

      “Oh, I don’t know about that,” objected another of the queer people. “The Grahams and the Browns and Whites are all excellent families, and there is none better of their kind. I’m a Boston Brown, myself.”

      “I admit you are all desirable citizens,” said Mr. Bunn rather stiffly; “but the fact remains that our town is called Bunbury.”

      “‘Scuse me,” interrupted Dorothy; “but I’m getting hungrier every minute. Now, if you’re polite and kind, as I’m sure you ought to be, you’ll let me eat SOMETHING. There’s so much to eat here that you will never miss it.”

      Then a big, puffed-up man, of a delicate brown color, stepped forward and said:

      “I think it would be a shame to send this child away hungry, especially as she agrees to eat whatever we can spare and not touch our people.”

      “So do I, Pop,” replied a Roll who stood near.

      “What, then, do you suggest, Mr. Over?” inquired Mr. Bunn.

      “Why, I’ll let her eat my back fence, if she wants to. It’s made of waffles, and they’re very crisp and nice.”

      “She may also eat my wheelbarrow,” added a pleasant looking Muffin. “It’s made of nabiscos with a zuzu wheel.”

      “Very good; very good,” remarked Mr. Bunn. “That is certainly very kind of you. Go with Pop Over and Mr. Muffin, little girl, and they will feed you.”

      “Thank you very much,” said Dorothy, gratefully. “May I bring my dog Toto, and the Yellow Hen? They’re hungry, too.”

      “Will you make them behave?” asked the Muffin.

      “Of course,” promised Dorothy.

      “Then come along,” said Pop Over.

      So Dorothy and Billina and Toto walked up the street and the people seemed no longer to be at all afraid of them. Mr. Muffin’s house came first, and as his wheelbarrow stood in the front yard the little girl ate that first. It didn’t seem very fresh, but she was so hungry that she was not particular. Toto ate some, too, while Billina picked up the crumbs.

      While the strangers were engaged in eating, many of the people came and stood in the street curiously watching them. Dorothy noticed six roguish looking brown children standing all in a row, and she asked:

      “Who are you, little ones?”

      “We’re the Graham Gems,” replied one; “and we’re all twins.”

      “I wonder if your mother could spare one or two of you?” asked Billina, who decided that they were fresh baked; but at this dangerous question the six little gems ran away as fast as they could go.

      “You musn’t say such things, Billina,” said Dorothy, reprovingly. “Now let’s go into Pop Over’s back yard and get the waffles.”

      “I sort of hate to let that fence go,” remarked Mr. Over, nervously, as they walked toward his house. “The neighbors back of us are Soda Biscuits, and I don’t care to mix with them.”

      “But I’m hungry yet,” declared the girl. “That wheelbarrow wasn’t very big.”

      “I’ve got a shortcake piano, but none of my family can play on it,” he said, reflectively. “Suppose you eat that.”

      “All right,” said Dorothy; “I don’t mind. Anything to be accommodating.”

      So Mr. Over led her into the house, where she ate the piano, which was of an excellent flavor.

      “Is there anything to drink here?” she asked.

      “Yes; I’ve a milk pump and a water pump; which will you have?” he asked.

      “I guess I’ll try ‘em both,” said Dorothy.

      So Mr. Over called to his wife, who brought into the yard a pail made of some kind of baked dough, and Dorothy pumped the pail full of cool, sweet milk and drank it eagerly.

      The wife of Pop Over was several shades darker than her husband.

      “Aren’t you overdone?” the little girl asked her.

      “No indeed,” answered the woman. “I’m neither overdone nor done over; I’m just Mrs. Over, and I’m the President of the Bunbury Breakfast Band.”

      Dorothy thanked them for their hospitality and went away. At the gate Mr. Cinnamon Bunn met her and said he would show her around the town. “We have some very interesting inhabitants,” he remarked, walking stiffly beside her on his stick-cinnamon legs; “and all of us who are in good health are well bred. If you are no longer hungry we will call upon a few of the most important citizens.”

      Toto and Billina followed behind them, behaving very well, and a little way down the street they came to a handsome residence where Aunt Sally Lunn lived. The old lady was glad to meet the little girl and gave her a slice of white bread and butter which had been used as a door-mat. It was almost fresh and tasted better than anything Dorothy had eaten in the town.

      “Where do you get the butter?” she inquired.

      “We dig it out of the ground, which, as you may have observed, is all flour and meal,” replied Mr. Bunn. “There is a butter mine just at the opposite side of the village. The trees which you see here are all doughleanders and doughderas, and in the season we get quite a crop of doughnuts off them.”

      “I should think the flour would blow around and get into your eyes,” said Dorothy.

      “No,” said he; “we are bothered with cracker dust sometimes, but never with flour.”

      Then he took her to see Johnny Cake, a cheerful old gentleman who lived near by.

      “I suppose you’ve heard of me,” said old Johnny, with an air of pride. “I’m a great favorite all over the world.”

      “Aren’t you rather yellow?” asked Dorothy, looking at him critically.

      “Maybe, child. But don’t think I’m bilious, for I was never in better health in my life,” replied the old gentleman. СКАЧАТЬ