by L. Frank Baum
   The Author of The Wizard of Oz,
   The Land of Oz, etc.

   Author's Note

    My friends the children
        are responsible for this new
         "Oz Book,"
            as they
            were for the last one,
           which was
              called The Land of Oz.

    Their sweet little letters
         plead to know
           "more about Dorothy";
            and they ask:
               "What became
                   of the Cowardly Lion?"

    and
         "What did Ozma do afterward?"-

    -meaning,
           of course,
         after she
            became the Ruler of Oz.

    And some of them suggest
         plots to me,
           saying:
         "Please have Dorothy
              go to the Land
                   of Oz again";
            or,
               "Why don't you make Ozma
                   and Dorothy meet,
             and have
                   a good time together?"

    Indeed,
           could I do all
             that my little friends ask,
         I would be obliged
              to write dozens of books
                  to satisfy their demands.

    And I wish I could,
           for I enjoy
             writing these stories just
               as much
                   as the children say
                 they enjoy reading them.

    Well,
           here is
         "more about Dorothy,"
            and about
               our old friends
             the Scarecrow
               and the Tin Woodman,
           and about the Cowardly Lion,
         and Ozma,
           and all the rest
               of them;
        and here,
           likewise,
         is a good deal
               about some new folks
             that are queer and unusual.

    One little friend,
           who read this story
             before it was printed,
         said to me:
           "Billina is REAL OZZY,
               Mr. Baum,
             and so
                are Tiktok
                       and the Hungry Tiger."

    If this judgment
        is unbiased and correct,
           and the little folks
              find this new story
         "real Ozzy,"
            I shall be
               very glad indeed
             that I wrote it.

    But perhaps
         I shall get
               some more of
             those very welcome
            letters from my readers,
           telling me just
             how they like
         "Ozma of Oz."

    I hope so,
           anyway.

    L.
         FRANK BAUM.

    MACATAWA,
           1907.
 
  1. The Girl in the Chicken
       Coop

    The wind
        blew hard and
              joggled the water
                   of the ocean,
           sending ripples across its surface.

    Then the wind
           pushed the edges
               of the ripples
         until they became waves,
           and shoved the waves around
             until they became billows.

    The billows rolled dreadfully high:
        higher even
               than the tops of houses.

    Some of them,
           indeed,
         rolled as high
               as the tops
                   of tall trees,
           and seemed like mountains;
        and the gulfs
               between the great billows were
             like deep valleys.

    All this mad
          dashing and splashing
               of the waters
             of the big ocean,
           which the mischievous wind caused
             without any good reason whatever,
         resulted in a terrible storm,
           and a storm
               on the ocean
            is liable
                  to cut many queer pranks
              and do
                   a lot of damage.

    At the time the wind
        began to blow,
           a ship
            was sailing far
                   out upon the waters.

    When the waves
        began to tumble
               and toss and
              to grow bigger
                   and bigger the ship
                 rolled up and down,
           and tipped sidewise
         --first one way
               and then the other--
           and was
              jostled around so roughly
             that even the sailor-men
                had to hold
                 fast to the ropes
                       and railings
                      to keep themselves from
                    being swept
                          away by the wind or
                        pitched headlong into the sea.

    And the clouds
        were so thick
               in the sky
         that the sunlight
            couldn't get through them;
        so that the day
            grew dark as night,
           which added
               to the terrors