"Well, that was sort of an accident, too," admitted the little girl honestly. "When the Tin Woodman, the Scarecrow, and the Cowardly Lion and I reached the witch's yellow castle, the witch captured us all and made me work hard from morning till night. But one day," Dorothy with an anxious eye on the door hurriedly continued, "one day when she tried to steal my silver shoes, I got SO mad I picked up a bucket of water I'd been using for scrubbing and flung it right over her head." "And did that destroy her?" Pigasus demanded incredulously. "Yes," said Dorothy, "it melted her down to nothing at all." "But what about the star? I never noticed that before?" "That's where the Good Witch of the North comes in," answered Dorothy proudly. "Right after my house fell on the Wicked Witch of the West, she appeared and when she discovered I was a mortal she kissed me on the forehead to keep me from harm all the time I was in Oz. It only shows now because I'm black, I suppose." "Well, why didn't it keep you from turning black, if it's so wonderful?" Pigasus switched his curly tail resentfully. "I don't know," Dorothy looked thoughtfully around Gloma's strange laboratory, "maybe the spell has worn off, maybe there's no harm in being black." "Humph! There may not be any harm in it, but it's pretty sad and mournful, if you ask me," grunted Pigasus, glaring savagely at his satiny black sides. "I prefer myself pink and you pink and white the way you were. Tea and turnips, first thing I know you'll be powdering your nose with ashes and soot! But, after all--" Pigasus swung himself energetically to his feet, "that is the least of our troubles. What do you suppose this witch will do to us now? And what can we do to her? Sa--hay!" Spreading his wings, Pigasus spun round in a triumphant circle. "All we have to do is to find some water. Why, it's simple as soup. Quick, Dorothy, look and see whether there is any water around here, then as soon as Gloma pops her nose in the door we'll put her out as neatly as you did that other witch." "But those other witches were bad and Gloma seems really good and beautiful," objected Dorothy, looking around without much enthusiasm. "Beautiful or not, she's a dark and dangerous lady," insisted the pig, beginning his search in a methodical way, "and it's her beauty or ours, remember, this Black Queen is quite determined to destroy us, if we don't destroy her first."