Just as they reached the porch the front door opened and a little girl
stood before them. She appeared to be about the same age as Dorothy, and
smiling upon her visitors she said, sweetly:
"You are welcome."
All the party seemed relieved to find that here was a real girl, of
flesh and blood. She was very dainty and pretty as she stood there
welcoming them. Her hair was a golden blonde and her eyes turquoise
blue. She had rosy cheeks and lovely white teeth. Over her simple white
lawn dress she wore an apron with pink and white checks, and in one hand
she held a pair of scissors.
"May we see Miss Cuttenclip, please?" asked Dorothy.
"I am Miss Cuttenclip," was the reply. "Won't you come in?"
She held the door open while they all entered a pretty sitting-room that
was littered with all sorts of paper--some stiff, some thin, and some
tissue. The sheets and scraps were of all colors. Upon a table were
paints and brushes, while several pair of scissors, of different sizes,
were lying about.
[Illustration]
"Sit down, please," said Miss Cuttenclip, clearing the paper scraps off
some of the chairs. "It is so long since I have had any visitors that I
am not properly prepared to receive them. But I'm sure you will pardon
my untidy room, for this is my workshop."
"Do you make all the paper dolls?" inquired Dorothy.
"Yes; I cut them out with my scissors, and paint the faces and some of
the costumes. It is very pleasant work, and I am happy making my paper
village grow."
"But how do the paper dolls happen to be alive?" asked Aunt Em.
"The first dolls I made were not alive," said Miss Cuttenclip. "I used
to live near the castle of a great Sorceress named Glinda the Good,
and she saw my dolls and said they were very pretty. I told her I
thought I would like them better if they were alive, and the next day
the Sorceress brought me a lot of magic paper. 'This is live paper,' she
said, 'and all the dolls you cut out of it will be alive, and able to
think and to talk. When you have used it all up, come to me and I will
give you more.'
"Of course I was delighted with this present," continued Miss
Cuttenclip, "and at once set to work and made several paper dolls,
which, as soon as they were cut out, began to walk around and talk to
me. But they were so thin that I found that any breeze would blow them
over and scatter them dreadfully; so Glinda found this lonely place for
me, where few people ever come. She built the wall to keep any wind from
blowing away my people, and told me I could build a paper village here
and be its Queen. That is why I came here and settled down to work and
started the village you now see. It was many years ago that I built the
first houses, and I've kept pretty busy and made my village grow finely;
and I need not tell you that I am very happy in my work."
"Many years ago!" exclaimed Aunt Em. "Why, how old are you, child?"
"I never keep track of the years," said Miss Cuttenclip, laughing. "You
see, I don't grow up at all, but stay just the same as I was when first
I came here. Perhaps I'm older even than you are, madam; but I couldn't
say for sure."
They looked at the lovely little girl wonderingly, and the Wizard asked:
"What happens to your paper village when it rains?"
"It does not rain here," replied Miss Cuttenclip. "Glinda keeps all the
rain storms away; so I never worry about my dolls getting wet. But now,
if you will come with me, it will give me pleasure to show you over my
paper kingdom. Of course you must go slowly and carefully, and avoid
making any breeze."
They left the cottage and followed their guide through the various
streets of the village. It was indeed an amazing place, when one
considered that it was all made with scissors, and the visitors were not
only greatly interested but full of admiration for the skill of little
Miss Cuttenclip.
In one place a large group of especially nice paper dolls assembled to
greet their Queen, whom it was easy to see they loved dearly. These
dolls marched and danced before the visitors, and then they all waved
their paper handkerchiefs and sang in a sweet chorus a song called "The
Flag of Our Native Land."
At the conclusion of the song they ran up a handsome paper flag on a
tall flagpole, and all of the people of the village gathered around to
cheer as loudly as they could--although, of course, their voices were
not especially strong.
Miss Cuttenclip was about to make her subjects a speech in reply to this
patriotic song, when the Shaggy Man happened to sneeze.
[Illustration]
He was a very loud and powerful sneezer at any time, and he had tried so
hard to hold in this sneeze that when it suddenly exploded the result
was terrible.
The paper dolls were mowed down by dozens, and flew and fluttered in
wild confusion in every direction, tumbling this way and that and
getting more or less wrinkled and bent.
A wail of terror and grief came from the scattered throng, and Miss
Cuttenclip exclaimed:
"Dear me! dear me!" and hurried at once to the rescue of her overturned
people.
"Oh, Shaggy Man! How could you?" asked Dorothy, reproachfully.
"I couldn't help it--really I couldn't," protested the Shaggy Man,
looking quite ashamed. "And I had no idea it took so little to upset
these paper dolls."
"So little!" said Dorothy. "Why, it was 'most as bad as a Kansas
cyclone." And then she helped Miss Cuttenclip rescue the paper folk and
stand them on their feet again. Two of the cardboard houses had also
tumbled over, and the little Queen said she would have to repair them
and paste them together before they could be lived in again.
And now, fearing they might do more damage to the flimsy paper people,
they decided to go away. But first they thanked Miss Cuttenclip very
warmly for her courtesy and kindness to them.
"Any friend of Princess Ozma is always welcome here--unless he sneezes,"
said the Queen, with a rather severe look at the Shaggy Man, who hung
his head. "I like to have visitors admire my wonderful village, and I
hope you will call again."
Miss Cuttenclip herself led them to the door in the wall, and as they
passed along the street the paper dolls peeped at them half fearfully
from the doors and windows. Perhaps they will never forget the Shaggy
Man's awful sneeze, and I am sure they were all glad to see the meat
people go away.
[Illustration]
_How_ THE GENERAL MET THE FIRST AND FOREMOST