In his big brightly lighted laboratory back of the throne room, the Wizard of Oz paced impatiently forth and back, his hands clasped tightly behind him. Every minute or two he would glance at the clock or dart over to peer out to the already darkening garden. "Are you sure you told them all, Jellia? Are you sure you told them tonight?" he asked, turning to the pretty little serving maid who was setting a table near the fire, for the fall evening was quite cool and frosty. "Four--five--six--seven--." Jellia, counting places, nodded her head firmly to answer the Wizard's question, then stepped back to regard her handiwork with complete satisfaction. "Oh, doesn't that tiny house in the center look too cute and cunningish? Real smoke coming out of the chimney, too. How ever did you manage it, Wiz? And having those silver slippers at each place for nuts and candies is just, plain beautiful." "Do you really think so?" The little Wizard positively blushed with pleasure. "Well, ye see, Jellia, this party is to celebrate Dorothy's first trip to the Emerald City. That is an exact model of the house in which she blew from Kansas to Oz in a cyclone, the house that fell on the wicked witch of the West and destroyed her--all but her silver slippers. Remember?" "Ho, everybody remembers that," said Jellia with a toss of her head that set all her green cap ribbons fluttering. "If I live to be a million, I'll never forget the day she came to this castle with the Cowardly Lion, the Scarecrow and the Tin Woodman. Not if I live to be a million! Will I light the candles now, Wiz dear, or wait until they arrive?" "Oh, wait till they arrive, by all means. But see here," the Wizard taking a last look at the party table was plainly distressed. "You've only seven places, Jellia, and there are eight of us. My idea was to have everyone immediately associated with Dorothy's first visit, and that would be, one--Dorothy herself; two--myself; three--yourself; four--the Cowardly Lion; five--the Scarecrow; six--the Tin Woodman; seven--the Soldier with Green Whiskers, and eight--the Guardian of the Gate. Quick, my dear! Another plate for the Guardian of the Gate." "He's not coming," announced Jellia primly. "He says he has not deserted his post for forty years and does not intend to desert it now. But if you'll send his refreshments to the Guard House, he'll take it very kindly. I've already fixed him a basket," said Jellia, smoothing her apron. "Good old Guardy!" The Wizard absently brushed back the hair he no longer had, then, hearing voices and steps in the corridor, bounced over to open the door while Jellia tripped joyously about, lighting the candles set everywhere in the big work shop. Candle and fire light are much cozier for parties, and it all looked so cheery and gay that Dorothy, who was first, stopped short in the doorway with an exclamation of delight. "Oh, Wizard! How beautiful! Oh, how I do wish Ozma could see it all!"