The little girl gave a cry of amazement and looked about her,
her eyes growing bigger and bigger at the wonderful sights she saw.
The cyclone had set the house down very gently--for a
cyclone--in the midst of a country of marvelous beauty. There
were lovely patches of greensward all about, with stately trees
bearing rich and luscious fruits. Banks of gorgeous flowers were
on every hand, and birds with rare and brilliant plumage sang and
fluttered in the trees and bushes. A little way off was a small
brook, rushing and sparkling along between green banks, and
murmuring in a voice very grateful to a little girl who had lived
so long on the dry, gray prairies.
While she stood looking eagerly at the strange and beautiful
sights, she noticed coming toward her a group of the queerest
people she had ever seen. They were not as big as the grown
folk she had always been used to; but neither were they very small.
In fact, they seemed about as tall as Dorothy, who was a well-grown
child for her age, although they were, so far as looks go, many
years older.
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