Dear Girls and Boys:

This is the Cowardly Lion's book, because it is mostly about him and the people who were hunting him. Why, I do not believe there has been so much excitement in Oz since the Scarecrow fell down his family tree. Imagine anyone daring to hunt our dear old jolly friend, just as if he were a common, man-eating creature, and imagine—! But here I go telling the whole story. Read it yourself and then tell me exactly what you think of this Mustafa of Mudge and his blue whiskers.

I hope you will like Snorer. It must be convenient to have a radio ear like his. Speaking of radios, if you should happen to hear any OZ news over yours will you tell me? Will you? If there's anything I love better than strawberries in January it's Oz news in July or December or August—or any time!

I've had some of the finest letters from boys and girls lately, but there is always room in my letter box for just one more. Maybe there is one there now from you to dear me? I must run down and look. Lots of good Oz luck until the Emerald clock in the royal palace strikes book time again!

Ruth Plumly Thompson.

Philadelphia,
July of 1923.

This book is dedicated to
My sister
Dorothy Thompson Curtiss
and all other lovely Dorothys
including Dorothy of Oz

Ruth Plumly Thompson

List of Chapters

Chapter 1

Mustafa of Mudge

"Tazzywaller, I must have another lion," said Mustafa of Mudge, giving his blue whiskers a terrible tweak. "Another lion, Tazzywaller, at once!"

"Your Highness already has nine thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine lions and a half!" said Tazzywaller bowing humbly.

"Oh, that!" interrupted Mustafa impatiently. "Very careless of you, Tazzywaller, to bring me half a lion—the wrong half, too! Monstrous annoying to see the back legs and tail of a lion jumping about in the reservation. Unnatural, I call it."

"But, your Highness will remember that had not a fortunate blow of my scimitar cut off the right half of the lion I would have been devoured, eaten, destroyed!"

Tazzywaller's eyes bulged at the unhappy recollection.

"I'd have endeavored to console myself," sniffed Mustafa disagreeably, "and Panapee would make an excellent chamberlain. But this is wasting time. I must have another lion. A lion, I tell you, at once!"

Mustafa's voice rose to a roar. Springing from his throne, he began stamping first one foot, then the other. The round face of poor Tazzywaller grew paler at each stamp.

"But there are no more lions in Mudge," he pleaded. "Your Highness must know that. The royal hunters have tracked them all down, and even if there were more, we cannot afford another single lion. I beg of your Highness to consider the nine thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine already eating us out of our sandals. The Mudgers are complaining of the lion tax—"

"Silence!" screamed Mustafa, jumping into the air so that he could stamp both feet at the same time.

"You're making most of the noise yourself," said Tazzywaller sulkily.

"What is all this arguing about?" demanded a sleepy voice, and through a curtain at the back of the apartment appeared the huge, turbaned head of Mixtuppa, Queen of Mudge.

"Lions! your Majesty," sighed the chief chamberlain, looking uneasily at Mustafa's wife, who was even more unreasonable than her royal husband. "His Highness desires another lion."

"Well, why don't you get him one? You know I can't stand this stamping," wheezed Mixtuppa irritably.

"Neither can I," grumbled Mustafa. "It hurts my royal feet."