"Bitty Bit," sniffed the pink pig. "Well, if he'll just help me to a bed, I'll be satisfied!" and grunting and grumbling, he clumped sleepily down the stairs behind Dorothy. The room into which the stone stairway led them was evidently the cozy and comfortable study of the comical little seer. Its walls were of oak, lined from floor to ceiling with books, and all its furnishings were tan or brown. Dorothy considered this extremely suitable as Bitty Bit himself looked like a very wise and merry Brownie. On his little round head was a round cap with a yellow quill and he wore a brown wrinkled robe rather like a monk's, tied tightly round the waist with a yellow cord. His bright, black, sharp little eyes danced with good humor and interest in his sun-tanned, honest little face. While Pigasus stood sleepily and somewhat disapprovingly on the hearth rug, Dorothy sank into a snug brown arm chair and looked expectantly up at their singular host. "No, no, not a word," begged Bitty Bit, raising his hand pleadingly. "Remember, I am the Seer of Some Summit, a seer who can see and foresee; a seer who can tell and foretell. Just by closing my eyes I can tell who you are, whence you came, and whither you are going." "Fancy that, now," observed Pigasus in a mocking voice. "You," retorted Bitty Bit, pointing a skinny brown finger at the pig, "you are a creation of my friend, the Red Jinn, whose taste for low verse I always knew would lead him into some mischief." "Low verses?" retorted Pigasus indignantly, while even Dorothy looked a little shocked. "Yes, low verses," insisted Bitty Bit solemnly. "You are so constructed that he who rides must rhyme and break into foolish jingles. Is this not so?" "They may be jingles, but they are NOT low verse," protested Pigasus, flapping his ears angrily. "Well, then, let us call them simple verses," amended Bitty Bit with a generous wave of the hand, "at least they are verses that anyone can understand, which, of course, makes them of no value whatever. People never appreciate what they can understand." "Dorothy does," declared Pigasus, now mad enough to fly right out the window. "Dorothy? Ah, yes, I was coming to her." Swinging around, Bitty Bit, his eyes still tightly shut, wagged his finger at the astonished little girl. "You are the mortal girl who came to Oz by cyclone. You live in the Emerald City of Oz and are--" "Oh, tell us something we don't already know," interrupted Pigasus with a bored yawn. "Where is Ozma of Oz now--how could a scalawag Emperor steal her throne?" "Wait! Wait! Give me time! Not a word more--not a word!" panted Bitty Bit, advancing with short dancing steps toward Dorothy. "I--I see a necklace," he muttered mysteriously. "One--two--three necklaces! I see a white horse and a fat, red-faced fellow wearing a small emerald crown. Great sea bass and sassafrass! Oz has been conquered--its inhabitants enchanted--its rulers banished, and the King of Skampavia sits on the throne."