“You must walk. It is a long journey, through a country that is sometimes pleasant and sometimes terrible. However, I will use all the magic arts I know to keep you from harm. I will give you my kiss, and no one will dare injure a person who has been kissed by the Witch of the North.” When her lips touched the girl’s forehead they left a round, shining mark.
The next morning they started on, as if they were quite sure which way they were going. “If we walk far enough," says Dorothy, "we shall sometime come to some place, I am sure.”
"Oh, I'm not afraid," replied the Scarecrow. "He can't hurt the straw. Do let me carry that basket for you. I shall not mind it, for I can't get tired. I'll tell you a secret," he continued, as he walked along. "There is only one thing in the world I am afraid of." "What is that?" asked Dorothy; "the Munchkin farmer who made you?" "No," answered the Scarecrow; "it's a lighted match."
Oz was holding out his hands to help her, when, crack! went the ropes, and the balloon rose up into the air without her. "Come back!" she screamed. "I want to go, too!"
"No matter how dreary and gray our homes are, we people of flesh and blood would rather live there than in any other country, be it every so beautiful. There is no place like home."
