"Oh, don't make me snort!" The huge Black Forester stared contemptuously down at the winged pig, and now that Pigasus had a better look at him he saw the folly of his threats, for the Black Guard was well over six feet and lean and tough as black leather. Evidently feeling he had wasted enough time on the pair, he gave them a very black look and, jerking the pig's wing roughly, started walking stolidly through the forest. Never had Dorothy felt so blue, or rather so black and blue--so wet, so discouraged, so thoroughly miserable! And when, sticking out her tongue to see if it was still pink she discovered that it, too, was black, she began sobbing softly to herself. "No one will know us any more," she decided dejectedly. "We're as badly off now as Ozma and the others. Why, oh why, did we ever come into this terrible forest?" She could feel Pigasus sniffing with sympathy, and suddenly realizing that she was not behaving very well, she straightened up. After all, she still was a Princess, even though she was black. Princesses did not cry even when they were captured and enchanted. Ozma was probably in a worse fix than this, and if Ozma was being brave, she would be brave, too. So, with a great effort, Dorothy stifled her sobs and began to look around her. To her surprise and astonishment she discovered that the Black Forest was not dark and gloomy as it had seemed before, but really quite beautiful. There were many shades and degrees of blackness in the trees and flowers that thickly carpeted the ground. Black birds twittered musically in the branches overhead, and every now and then a deer peered timidly out at her from the woodsy depths between the tree trunks. The Guard, glancing over his shoulder and catching her interested expression, ventured a smile. "Why, he is not bad looking at all," thought Dorothy, with a pleased start. "And maybe this witch may be a good witch--her name sounds rather pretty." Quite comforted by these reflections, Dorothy whispered a few rhymed remarks in the pig's ear. Pigasus, it must be confessed, was as interested in what he saw as Dorothy, and when a sudden break between the trees revealed a great black circular wall with a hundred black flags floating from its many turrets, he gave an involuntary grunt of admiration. "You are about to enter the Royal Circle of Gloma, Witch of the Black Forest," announced the Guard, raising his hand solemnly. "I trust you will conduct yourselves in a fitting manner." "Don't worry about OUR manners," shrilled Pigasus, tossing his head airily. "We are accustomed to Royalty and move in exclusive circles at home." "And talk in circles, too," muttered the Guard impatiently. "Well, well--do the best you can and bow three times as you approach the throne." "Throne?" queried Dorothy, slipping off the pig's back so she would not have to talk in rhyme, for what she had to say to the black witch was very serious indeed. "Is Gloma a Queen?"