For the first time in its history the magnificent Dining Hall was filled to capacity. Easily as large as a city park, there was just room for the two long, sparkling, flower-laden banquet tables, the first for Ozma's courtiers and guests, the second for the palace pets and visiting animals. The Scarecrow caused a roar of hilarity as the diners took their places by donning a pair of dark spectacles to prevent eye-strain from the flashing of so many jewels and crowns. With each course of the long delicious dinner Ozma had a different King, Queen, or Celebrity at her side, and so cleverly had it all been arranged, each guest had the honor of sitting for a time beside the Kingdom's Little Fairy Ruler. Soft music floated down from the balcony where the Royal orchestra was concealed behind a bower of palms. The bright robes and jewels of the banqueters and the emerald and silver dinner service twinkled and sparkled in the magic glow of a thousand candles. The hundred footmen were swift and skillful, the speeches were short and merry, "and never," thought Dorothy, looking around with a little thrill of satisfaction, "never has there been so grand and yet delightful a party!" The Hungry Tiger had remembered the tastes and appetites of each of his guests, and not only were they served with the same dainties enjoyed by the Two Footed visitors, but every one had a special dish of his own. Even the Dragon seemed to enjoy immensely his matches and mustard, then called in a hoarse voice for three pails of hot coals, after which he blew a whole series of smoke rings and went comfortably to sleep. Dorothy and the Wizard had with due modesty accepted their medals for their discovery of Oz and the whole company on its feet for this impressive ceremony were suddenly startled by a shrill scream from the Patch Work Girl. "His beard! His beard! Look at his beard!" yodeled Scraps. (Yes, I think "yodel" best describes the excited noise made by this irrepressible maiden.) "His beard, I said, it's turning RED!" At the word "beard" every eye turned to the Soldier with Green Whiskers, for his beard was the longest and most celebrated in Oz. "Why, so it is!" exclaimed Dorothy in astonishment. "Red?" choked the Solider, desperately clutching his famous whiskers. "Oh! Oh! My beautiful green beard--it's red as fire. Oh! Oh! How can I ever be the Soldier with Green Whiskers if my beard stays red? Who did this? Wizard! Wizard, are you playing a trick on me?" "Certainly not, Soldier. I'd be the last person to tamper with your sacred beard. Quiet, please! Quiet! This is extremely odd and disturbing." Jumping on his chair, the Little Wizard of Oz looked anxiously around the room. "Do they hurt? Are red whiskers painful?" asked Scraps, while the Royal guests, hardly knowing whether to laugh or sympathize, gazed curiously at the blazing beard of the Army of Oz.