"Oh, dear," said the Witch. "It's these clothes again. They never fail to put a scare into people. My pointed hat especially scares them." "Then take it off," shouted Dorothy above the wind. "It won't be long before you'll be rid of the witch-clothes, too. I don't think, though, that the people are as frightened of those as they are of the broomsticks. I should have thought of that before." Everyone landed without mishap. Of course, the streets were now deserted. They walked across the street to the Scarecrow's palace. Oddly, the entrance was barred. "I'm locked out of my own castle?" said the Scarecrow, as he rang the bell. A little door in the big door opened, and the Guardian of the Gates peered out at them. "Who are you?" he said, rather sharply. "I am your king, as appointed by the Wonderful Wizard of Oz himself. This is Dorothy, and we are her friends." "What about her?" said the guard, staring at the Witch suspiciously. "She's our friend, too," said the Tin Woodman. "I don't believe you," said the guardian, and he slammed the little door shut. The Tin Woodman banged on the door with his fist. "Go away!" shouted the guardian. The Tin Woodman banged on the door again, this time using his ax handle. "I said, GO AWAY!" The guardian was obviously getting quite perturbed. "What shall we do now?" asked the Tin Woodman. "Let me try a different tactic," said Dorothy. She knocked on the door lightly and said, "Please open the door. We can explain." The little door opened slowly. "I'll say you need to explain," said the guardian. "Nobody has a Wicked Witch for a friend -- except another Wicked Witch." "Well, I'm not a Wicked Witch," said Dorothy. "I'm a friend of the Scarecrow's." "She's not," said the guardian. "And she's not a friend of the Scarecrow's. And if she's your friend, your scarecrow must be an impostor!" With that, the door slammed shut again. "Now what?" said the Scarecrow. "He doesn't even believe I'm really me!" "I have an idea," said Dorothy. "Knock on the door again." The Tin Woodman knocked loudly. "What is it this time?" said the guardian impatiently, while opening the little door slightly. "You don't understand," said Dorothy. "She's our prisoner." "I thought you said she's your /friend/," retorted the guardian, mockingly. "Well...." Dorothy hesitated. "Well, what? I'm waiting," replied the man. "Well, she's sort of our friend, too. You see, since we captured her, she has turned out to be quite nice." "It's probably a trick," said the guardian, suspiciously. "You can't really blame him for being suspicious," said the Witch. "I've been hated for many, many years. It's going to take a while for people to get used to my new image." "I suppose so," said Dorothy.