The travelers had taken no provisions
with them because they knew that
they would be welcomed wherever
they might go in the Land of
Oz, and that the people would
feed and lodge them with genuine
hospitality. So about noon they
stopped at a farm-house and were
given a delicious luncheon of
bread and milk, fruits and wheat
cakes with maple syrup. After
resting a while and strolling
through the orchards with their
host--a round, jolly farmer--they
got into the wagon and again
started the Sawhorse along the
pretty, winding road.
There were signposts at all
the corners, and finally they
came to one which read:
TAKE THIS ROAD TO THE CUTTENCLIPS
There was also a hand pointing
in the right direction, so they
turned the Sawhorse that way
and found it a very good road,
but seemingly little traveled.
"I've never seen the Cuttenclips
before," remarked Dorothy.
"Nor I," said
the Captain General.
"Nor I," said
the Wizard.
"Nor I," said
Billina.
"I've hardly been out of the
Emerald City since I arrived
in this country," added the Shaggy
Man.
"Why, none of us has been there,
then," exclaimed the little girl. "I
wonder what the Cuttenclips are
like."
"We shall soon find out," said
the Wizard, with a sly laugh. "I've
heard they are rather flimsy
things."
The farm-houses became fewer
as they proceeded, and the path
was at times so faint that the
Sawhorse had hard work to keep
in the road. The wagon began
to jounce, too; so they were
obliged to go slowly.
After a somewhat wearisome
journey they came in sight of
a high wall, painted blue with
pink ornaments. This wall was
circular, and seemed to enclose
a large space. It was so high
that only the tops of the trees
could be seen above it.
The path led up to a small
door in the wall, which was closed
and latched. Upon the door was
a sign in gold letters reading
as follows:
VISITORS are requested to MOVE
SLOWLY and CAREFULLY, and to
avoid COUGHING or making any
BREEZE or DRAUGHT.
"That's strange," said the
Shaggy Man, reading the sign
aloud. "Who ARE the Cuttenclips,
anyhow?"
"Why, they're paper dolls," answered
Dorothy. "Didn't you know that?"
"Paper dolls! Then let's go
somewhere else," said Uncle Henry. "We're
all too old to play with dolls,
Dorothy."
"But these are different," declared
the girl. "They're alive."
"Alive!" gasped
Aunt Em, in amazement.
"Yes. Let's go in," said
Dorothy.
So they all got out of the
wagon, since the door in the
wall was not big enough for them
to drive the Sawhorse and wagon
through it.
"You stay here, Toto!" commanded
Dorothy, shaking her finger at
the little dog. "You're so careless
that you might make a breeze
if I let you inside."
Toto wagged his tail as if
disappointed at being left behind;
but he made no effort to follow
them. The Wizard unlatched the
door, which opened outward, and
they all looked eagerly inside.
Just before the entrance was
drawn up a line of tiny soldiers,
with uniforms brightly painted
and paper guns upon their shoulders.
They were exactly alike, from
one end of the line to the other,
and all were cut out of paper
and joined together in the centers
of their bodies.
As the visitors entered the
enclosure the Wizard let the
door swing back into place, and
at once the line of soldiers
tumbled over, fell flat upon
their backs, and lay fluttering
upon the ground.
"Hi there!" called one of them; "what
do you mean by slamming the door
and blowing us over?"
"I beg your pardon, I'm sure," said
the Wizard, regretfully. "I didn't
know you were so delicate."
"We're not delicate!" retorted
another soldier, raising his
head from the ground. "We are
strong and healthy; but we can't
stand draughts."
"May I help you up?" asked
Dorothy.
"If you please," replied the
end soldier. "But do it gently,
little girl."
Dorothy carefully stood up
the line of soldiers, who first
dusted their painted clothes
and then saluted the visitors
with their paper muskets. From
the end it was easy to see that
the entire line had been cut
out of paper, although from the
front the soldiers looked rather
solid and imposing.
"I've a letter of introduction
from Princess Ozma to Miss Cuttenclip," announced
Dorothy.
"Very well," said
the end soldier, and blew upon
a paper whistle
that hung around his neck. At
once a paper soldier in a Captain's
uniform came out of a paper house
near by and approached the group
at the entrance. He was not very
big, and he walked rather stiffly
and uncertainly on his paper
legs; but he had a pleasant face,
with very red cheeks and very
blue eyes, and he bowed so low
to the strangers that Dorothy
laughed, and the breeze from
her mouth nearly blew the Captain
over. He wavered and struggled
and finally managed to remain
upon his feet.
"Take care, Miss!" he said,
warningly. "You're breaking the
rules, you know, by laughing."
"Oh, I didn't know that," she
replied.
"To laugh in this place is
nearly as dangerous as to cough," said
the Captain. "You'll have to
breathe very quietly, I assure
you."
"We'll try to," promised the
girl. "May we see Miss Cuttenclip,
please?"
"You may," promptly returned
the Captain. "This is one of
her reception days. Be good enough
to follow me."
He turned and led the way up
a path, and as they followed
slowly, because the paper Captain
did not move very swiftly, they
took the opportunity to gaze
around them at this strange paper
country.
Beside the path were paper
trees, all cut out very neatly
and painted a brilliant green
color. And back of the trees
were rows of cardboard houses,
painted in various colors but
most of them having green blinds.
Some were large and some small,
and in the front yards were beds
of paper flowers quite natural
in appearance. Over some of the
porches paper vines were twined,
giving them a cozy and shady
look.
As the visitors passed along
the street a good many paper
dolls came to the doors and windows
of their houses to look at them
curiously. These dolls were nearly
all the same height, but were
cut into various shapes, some
being fat and some lean. The
girl dolls wore many beautiful
costumes of tissue paper, making
them quite fluffy; but their
heads and hands were no thicker
than the paper of which they
were made.
Some of the paper people were
on the street, walking along
or congregated in groups and
talking together; but as soon
as they saw the strangers they
all fluttered into the houses
as fast as they could go, so
as to be out of danger.
"Excuse me if I go edgewise," remarked
the Captain as they came to a
slight hill. "I can get along
faster that way and not flutter
so much."
"That's all right," said Dorothy. "We
don't mind how you go, I'm sure."
At one side of the street was
a paper pump, and a paper boy
was pumping paper water into
a paper pail. The Yellow Hen
happened to brush against this
boy with her wing, and he flew
into the air and fell into a
paper tree, where he stuck until
the Wizard gently pulled him
out. At the same time, the pail
went into the air, spilling the
paper water, while the paper
pump bent nearly double.
"Goodness me!" said the Hen. "If
I should flop my wings I believe
I'd knock over the whole village!"
"Then don't flop them--please
don't!" entreated the Captain. "Miss
Cuttenclip would be very much
distressed if her village was
spoiled."
"Oh, I'll be careful," promised
Billina.
"Are not all these paper girls
and women named Miss Cuttenclips?" inquired
Omby Amby.
"No indeed," answered the Captain,
who was walking better since
he began to move edgewise. "There
is but one Miss Cuttenclip, who
is our Queen, because she made
us all. These girls are Cuttenclips,
to be sure, but their names are
Emily and Polly and Sue and Betty
and such things. Only the Queen
is called Miss Cuttenclip."
"I must say that this place
beats anything I ever heard of," observed
Aunt Em. "I used to play with
paper dolls myself, an' cut 'em
out; but I never thought I'd
ever see such things alive."
"I don't see as it's any more
curious than hearing hens talk," returned
Uncle Henry.
"You're likely to see many
queer things in the Land of Oz,
sir," said the Wizard. "But a
fairy country is extremely interesting
when you get used to being surprised."
"Here we are!" called
the Captain, stopping before
a cottage.
This house was made of wood,
and was remarkably pretty in
design. In the Emerald City it
would have been considered a
tiny dwelling, indeed; but in
the midst of this paper village
it seemed immense. Real flowers
were in the garden and real trees
grew beside it. Upon the front
door was a sign reading:
MISS CUTTENCLIP.
Just as they reached the porch
the front door opened and a little
girl stood before them. She appeared
to be about the same age as Dorothy,
and smiling upon her visitors
she said, sweetly:
"You are welcome."
All the party seemed relieved
to find that here was a real
girl, of flesh and blood. She
was very dainty and pretty as
she stood there welcoming them.
Her hair was a golden blonde
and her eyes turquoise blue.
She had rosy cheeks and lovely
white teeth. Over her simple
white lawn dress she wore an
apron with pink and white checks,
and in one hand she held a pair
of scissors.
"May we see Miss Cuttenclip,
please?" asked Dorothy.
"I am Miss Cuttenclip," was
the reply. "Won't you come in?"
She held the door open while
they all entered a pretty sitting-room
that was littered with all sorts
of paper--some stiff, some thin,
and some tissue. The sheets and
scraps were of all colors. Upon
a table were paints and brushes,
while several pair of scissors,
of different sizes, were lying
about.
"Sit down, please," said Miss
Cuttenclip, clearing the paper
scraps off some of the chairs. "It
is so long since I have had any
visitors that I am not properly
prepared to receive them. But
I'm sure you will pardon my untidy
room, for this is my workshop."
"Do you make all the paper
dolls?" inquired Dorothy.
"Yes; I cut
them out with my scissors,
and paint the faces
and some of the costumes. It
is very pleasant work, and I
am happy making my paper village
grow."
"But how do the paper dolls
happen to be alive?" asked Aunt
Em.
"The first dolls I made were
not alive," said Miss Cuttenclip. "I
used to live near the castle
of a great Sorceress named Glinda
the Good, and she saw my dolls
and said they were very pretty.
I told her I thought I would
like them better if they were
alive, and the next day the Sorceress
brought me a lot of magic paper.
'This is live paper,' she said,
'and all the dolls you cut out
of it will be alive, and able
to think and to talk. When you
have used it all up, come to
me and I will give you more.'
"Of course I was delighted
with this present," continued
Miss Cuttenclip, "and at once
set to work and made several
paper dolls, which, as soon as
they were cut out, began to walk
around and talk to me. But they
were so thin that I found that
any breeze would blow them over
and scatter them dreadfully;
so Glinda found this lonely place
for me, where few people ever
come. She built the wall to keep
any wind from blowing away my
people, and told me I could build
a paper village here and be its
Queen. That is why I came here
and settled down to work and
started the village you now see.
It was many years ago that I
built the first houses, and I've
kept pretty busy and made my
village grow finely; and I need
not tell you that I am very happy
in my work."
"Many years ago!" exclaimed
Aunt Em. "Why, how old are you,
child?"
"I never keep track of the
years," said Miss Cuttenclip,
laughing. "You see, I don't grow
up at all, but stay just the
same as I was when first I came
here. Perhaps I'm older even
than you are, madam; but I couldn't
say for sure."
They looked at the lovely little
girl wonderingly, and the Wizard
asked:
"What happens
to your paper village when
it rains?"
"It does not rain here," replied
Miss Cuttenclip. "Glinda keeps
all the rain storms away; so
I never worry about my dolls
getting wet. But now, if you
will come with me, it will give
me pleasure to show you over
my paper kingdom. Of course you
must go slowly and carefully,
and avoid making any breeze."
They left the cottage and followed
their guide through the various
streets of the village. It was
indeed an amazing place, when
one considered that it was all
made with scissors, and the visitors
were not only greatly interested
but full of admiration for the
skill of little Miss Cuttenclip.
In one place
a large group of especially
nice paper dolls
assembled to greet their Queen,
whom it was easy to see they
loved early. These dolls marched
and danced before the visitors,
and then they all waved their
paper handkerchiefs and sang
in a sweet chorus a song called "The
Flag of Our Native Land."
At the conclusion of the song
they ran up a handsome paper
flag on a tall flagpole, and
all of the people of the village
gathered around to cheer as loudly
as they could--although, of course,
their voices were not especially
strong.
Miss Cuttenclip was about to
make her subjects a speech in
reply to this patriotic song,
when the Shaggy Man happened
to sneeze.
He was a very loud and powerful
sneezer at any time, and he had
tried so hard to hold in this
sneeze that when it suddenly
exploded the result was terrible.
The paper dolls were mowed
down by dozens, and flew and
fluttered in wild confusion in
every direction, tumbling this
way and that and getting more
or less wrinkled and bent.
A wail of terror and grief
came from the scattered throng,
and Miss Cuttenclip exclaimed:
"Dear me! dear me!" and
hurried at once to the rescue
of her
overturned people.
"Oh, Shaggy Man! How could
you?" asked Dorothy, reproachfully.
"I couldn't help it--really
I couldn't," protested the Shaggy
Man, looking quite ashamed. "And
I had no idea it took so little
to upset these paper dolls."
"So little!" said Dorothy. "Why,
it was 'most as bad as a Kansas
cyclone." And then she helped
Miss Cuttenclip rescue the paper
folk and stand them on their
feet again. Two of the cardboard
houses had also tumbled over,
and the little Queen said she
would have to repair them and
paste them together before they
could be lived in again.
And now, fearing they might
do more damage to the flimsy
paper people, they decided to
go away. But first they thanked
Miss Cuttenclip very warmly for
her courtesy and kindness to
them.
"Any friend of Princess Ozma
is always welcome here--unless
he sneezes," said the Queen with
a rather severe look at the Shaggy
Man, who hung his head. "I like
to have visitors admire my wonderful
village, and I hope you will
call again."
Miss Cuttenclip herself led
them to the door in the wall,
and as they passed along the
street the paper dolls peeped
at them half fearfully from the
doors and windows. Perhaps they
will never forget the Shaggy
Man's awful sneeze, and I am
sure they were all glad to see
the meat people go away.
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