“We have surely lost our way,” he said, “and unless we find it again in time to reach the Emerald City, I shall never get my brains.”
“Nor I my heart,” declared the Tin Woodman. “It seems to me I can scarcely wait till I get to Oz, and you must admit this is a very long journey.”
“You see,” said the Cowardly Lion, with a whimper, “I haven’t the courage to keep tramping forever, without getting anywhere at all.”
Then Dorothy lost heart. She sat down on the grass and looked at her companions, and they sat down and looked at her, and Toto found that for the first time in his life he was too tired to chase a butterfly that flew past his head. So he put out his tongue and panted and looked at Dorothy as if to ask what they should do next.
“Suppose we call the field mice,” she suggested. “They could probably tell us the way to the Emerald City.”
“To be sure they could,” cried the Scarecrow. “Why didn’t we think of that before?”
Dorothy blew the little whistle she had always carried about her neck since the Queen of the Mice had given it to her. In a few minutes they heard the pattering of tiny feet, and many of the small gray mice came running up to her. Among them was the Queen herself, who asked, in her squeaky little voice:
“What can I do for my friends?”
“We have lost our way,” said Dorothy. “Can you tell us where the Emerald City is?”