The Pixie jumped from my face and buzzed around my head, letting out a high-pitched staccato squeal. She was laughing at me.

“Er, mostly harmless,” the Scarecrow said.

“I don’t remember those things from last time,” I said, rubbing at my injury to check for blood.

“They stayed in their hives back in those days,” he explained. “They were afraid of the witches. But Ozma believes in letting them run wild, and they’ve been getting bolder and bolder. You should see what they do to my cornfields.”

“I’m all for Pixies having their freedom,” I sniffed. “I’m an American, after all. But they might be a little more grateful to the girl who gave it to them, don’t you suppose?”

“All the magic in the world couldn’t give a Pixie manners,” the Scarecrow said ruefully. “If I were king, I’d do away with all of them. But Ozma is of the opinion that even Oz’s lowest creatures deserve their freedom. Pixies, Screaming Trees, even Nomes, for heaven’s sake—they’ve all flourished under the princess’s rule.”

They might have been rude, but I couldn’t help being charmed as I watched the little things flitting through the air. “I hope they at least do pretty little spells or something,” I said. “To make up for the nastiness and biting.”

“They certainly do. If you catch one, they’ll grant you exactly one wish,” the Scarecrow said.

“Oh!” I exclaimed. “Then what are we waiting for?” I was about to go chasing after the Pixie who had bit me—it would serve her right!—but the Scarecrow caught me by the elbow.

“Don’t bother,” he said. “You can only wish for three things and none of them are very interesting. A dried cod, a hunk of coal, or a darning kit.”

“Aunt Em might like a darning kit,” I said, but I quickly dropped my chase.

That’s when I saw our carriage sitting by the Road of Yellow Brick—a vehicle that would put Henry Ford’s finest automobile to shame. It was a jeweled green sphere of glass etched with delicate swirling patterns, about as big as Uncle Henry’s toolshed, and rather than having wheels it was hovering in the air a few feet off the ground. It was hitched to a crude wooden horse composed of a log sitting on top of four sturdy sticks. It had two knots for eyes, a notch for a mouth, and a twig for a tail.

“Hello there,” the log said.

By now I knew not to be surprised by anything around here, especially not a talking log in the shape of a horse. “Well, hello there,” I greeted him—if you could call a log a him. “I’m Dorothy Gale. Pleased to meet you.”

He turned toward me and whinnied. “I’m the Saw-Horse,” he said. “The fastest horse in all of Oz, of course, and the captain of Ozma’s Royal Guard. I’ll get you to the Emerald City in no time at all.”

Just then, Toto came racing out of the house, followed by Aunt Em and Uncle Henry, who were looking around in a daze, like they hadn’t really expected any of this to still be here. Toto began barking and leaping into the air, trying to catch the Pixies, who dipped and dove around him, taunting him with their squeaky giggles. I hoped he liked dried cod.

“Aunt Em!” I called. “Uncle Henry! The Scarecrow is going to take us to the Emerald City. Isn’t the carriage marvelous?”

“It looks like a big Fabergé egg,” Aunt Em said. “I always found them a bit gaudy myself.” But I could tell from the way she was staring that she was more impressed than she cared to admit.

“The Emerald City?” Uncle Henry asked. “I thought we were going to find your friend Glinda?”

“We’re going to meet with Ozma,” I said, trying to reassure them. “She’s the princess of Oz. She’ll help us find Glinda. Besides, don’t you want to see the magnificent Emerald City?”

The Scarecrow was extremely diplomatic about the whole thing. “You can’t come all the way to Oz and miss out on the Emerald City,” he said. When my aunt and uncle looked at him dubiously, he added: “The princess is a formidable magic user in her own right. If she can’t send you home herself, she will no doubt be eager to help you find the Sorceress.”

It took a little convincing, but eventually they gave in, and soon Uncle Henry was helping Aunt Em up into the carriage. At least we had a ride this time. I think after yesterday’s ordeals, we were all more than happy to be traveling in comfort.

The inside of the carriage was lined with plush velvet cushions, and the Scarecrow and I sat on one side with my aunt and uncle on the other. A tea service floated on a tray between us.

“Tea?” the Scarecrow asked Aunt Em, handing her a little pink cup.

She looked like she wanted to say no, but Aunt Em can never resist a good cup of tea.

“Do you have Earl Grey?” she asked.

“I have whatever you’d like,” he replied. He pointed at the kettle on the tray.

“How do I brew it?” she asked curiously.

“Just pour it and imagine the best cup of tea you can think of.”

Aunt Em looked dubious, but she gingerly poured herself a serving, and when she took a sip, her eyes lit up. “That’s Earl Grey, all right!” she said in delight. And then, curiously: “Did you cast a spell on it?”

The Scarecrow chortled. “A spell! I should think not. I’m a man of science. In fact, it’s the milk of the rare Chimera. While it remains inside the kettle, it exists in infinite liquid forms—it’s not until you pour it that it takes on the qualities you desire of it.”