thought of those straw foot-decorations."

Dorothy left him and went to her room, where she sat down and tried
to think hard. A Pink Kitten was curled up on the window-sill and
Dorothy asked her:

"What can I give Ozma for her birthday present?"

"Oh, give her some milk," replied the Pink Kitten; "that's the
nicest thing I know of."

A fuzzy little black dog had squatted down at Dorothy's feet and now
looked up at her with intelligent eyes.

"Tell me, Toto," said the girl; "what would Ozma like best for a
birthday present?"

The little black dog wagged his tail.

"Your love," said he. "Ozma wants to be loved more than anything else."

"But I already love her, Toto!"

"Then tell her you love her twice as much as you ever did before."

"That wouldn't be true," objected Dorothy, "for I've always loved
her as much as I could, and, really, Toto, I want to give Ozma some
PRESENT, 'cause everyone else will give her a present."

"Let me see," said Toto. "How would it be to give her that useless