Snif spent a happy morning in the royal stable with the famous beasts of Oz and they listened so politely to his experiences he decided to stay on indefinitely at the capitol. The pirate's sack was locked up in the Wizard's strong box and the magic dinner bell stored with the other treasures of the realm, for as Ozma remarked to Dorothy it would be mighty handy for picnics and unexpected visitors. The Fraid Cats and Statues in Scare City were released from their enchantment by the Wizard's long distance magic and Peter and Snif, looking in the magic picture, had the satisfaction of watching them return to their various homes. "The only thing that still puzzles me," sighed Ozma as they all sat cozily under the trees in the garden late that afternoon, "the only thing that puzzles me is the forbidden flagon. What strange spell could have reduced Mogodore and his followers to midgets?" "I think I can explain that," answered Glinda, setting her tea cup down on a small green table. "When Scraps flew to my castle yesterday and told of the capture of the Emerald City, I at once turned to my magic record book to discover something about this Baron of Baffleburg. You are all, I am sure, familiar with brownies?" Dorothy and Betsy Bobbin nodded sagely, and all the others quickly inclined their heads. "Well," said Glinda with a wave toward the South, "in the Red Mountains of Oz there are large bands of reddies, who are quite similar to brownies, except for the color of their coats, which are red. To one of these tribes Mogodore and his men really belong. But Mogodore's great grandfather, Jair, was a brave and determined little reddy, whose good deeds and brave actions greatly exceeded his size and strength. So, long ago, a neighboring wizard, whom Jair had done a great service, rewarded Jair by making him and his followers as large in size as they were in deeds and in action. But the enchantment only held so long as the mysterious red liquid remained in the forbidden flagon. Mogodore's father and grandfather guarded the flagon well, but Mogodore knew nothing of its secret power nor of his own ancestry or origin. Being by nature, discontented and greedy he was always puzzling about the strange black flask and at the first opportunity he satisfied his curiosity." "Well, it's a good thing he did," said Peter, looking thoughtfully at the little band of captives who were being marched up and down one of the garden paths by the Soldier with Green Whiskers. "Now the other barons will have a little peace." "Let's keep them for toys," proposed Scraps, who was never weary of watching the tiny army. "No," said Ozma, shaking her head at the Patchwork Girl, "that would be cruel. Has their city grown small too, Glinda?" The sorceress smiled and nodded.