"I didn't come here to be harried and hurried by foreigners," sobbed the little man. "How is one to work magic when interrupted every other minute. I want my little dragon."
"Oh, come on now, just throw it. I'll get you another dragon," begged the Prince, his hands trembling with excitement.
In the face of this new disaster, the Scarecrow had forgotten all about the Gheewizard. He and the Cowardly Lion and Sir Hokus were running distractedly around the great throne, trying to think up a way to rescue Dorothy. As for the Doubtful Dromedary he was doubting everything in a loud, bitter voice, while the Comfortable Camel fairly snorted with sorrow.
"There! Now's your chance," whispered the Prince. The Scarecrow, with his back to the crowd, was gesturing frantically.
Taking a firm hold on the neck of the vase, and with a long incantation, which there is no use at all in repeating, the Gheewizard flung the bottle straight at the Scarecrow's head. But scarcely had it left his hand, before there was a flash and a flutter and down came Dorothy and the magic parasol, right on top of the vase.
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