In the first place, they never lifted their feet but pushed them along like skates. The women were dressed in gray polka-dot dresses, with huge poke bonnets that almost hid their fat, sleepy, wide-mouthed faces. Most of them had pet snails on strings and so slowly did they move that it looked as though the snails were tugging them along.
The men were dressed like a party of congressmen, but instead of high hats wore large red nightcaps and they were all as solemn as owls. It seemed impossible for them to keep both eyes open at the same time and at first Dorothy thought they were winking at her. But as the whole company continued to stare fixedly with one open eye she burst out laughing. At the unexpected sound (for no one had ever laughed in Pokes before) the women picked up their snails in a great fright and the men clapped their fingers to their ears, or to the places where their ears were under the red nightcaps.
"These must be the Slow Pokes," giggled Dorothy, nudging the Cowardly Lion. "Let's go to meet them for they'll never reach us at the rate they are coming!"
"There's something wrong with my feet," rumbled the Cowardly Lion without looking up. "Hah, hoh,
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