"Or her milk-toast," proposed Uncle Henry.
"I've lost my mi--mi--mittens!" said the kangaroo, getting it out at last.
"Oh!" cried the Yellow Hen, with a cackle of relief. "Why didn't you
say so before?"
"Boo-hoo! I--I--couldn't," answered the kangaroo.
"But, see here," said Dorothy, "you don't need mittens in this
warm weather."
"Yes, indeed I do," replied the animal, stopping her sobs and removing
her paws from her face to look at the little girl reproachfully. "My
hands will get all sunburned and tanned without my mittens, and I've
worn them so long that I'll probably catch cold without them."
"Nonsense!" said Dorothy. "I never heard of any kangaroo
wearing mittens."
"Didn't you?" asked the animal, as if surprised.
"Never!" repeated the girl. "And you'll probably make yourself sick
if you don't stop crying. Where do you live?"
"About two miles beyond Fuddlecumjig," was the answer. "Grandmother
Gnit made me the mittens, and she's one of the Fuddles."
"Well, you'd better go home now, and perhaps the old lady will make
you another pair," suggested Dorothy. "We're on our way to
Fuddlecumjig, and you may hop along beside us."
So they rode on, and the kangaroo hopped beside the red wagon and
seemed quickly to have forgotten her loss. By and by the Wizard said
to the animal:
"Are the Fuddles nice people?"
"Oh, very nice," answered the kangaroo; "that is, when they're
properly put together. But they get dreadfully scattered and mixed
up, at times, and then you can't do anything with them."
"What do you mean by their getting scattered?" inquired Dorothy.
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