"Meat tires, after a day's travel," added the
Scarecrow, "while straw and tin never tire at all.
Which proves," said he, "that we are somewhat superior
to people made in the common way."

Woot could not deny that he was tired, and he slept
soundly until morning, when he was given a good
breakfast, smoking hot.

"You two miss a great deal by not eating," he said to
his companions.

"It is true," responded the Scarecrow. "We miss
suffering from hunger, when food cannot be had, and we
miss a stomachache, now and then."

As he said this, the Scarecrow glanced at the Tin
Woodman, who nodded his assent.

All that second day they traveled steadily,
entertaining one another the while with stories of
adventures they had formerly met and listening to the
Scarecrow recite poetry. He had learned a great many
poems from Professor Wogglebug and loved to repeat them
whenever anybody would listen to him. Of course Woot
and the Tin Woodman now listened, because they could
not do otherwise -- unless they rudely ran away from
their stuffed comrade. One of the Scarecrow's
recitations was like this: