17. How They Came to Bunbury

The Emerald City of Oz

by L. Frank Baum

Wandering through the woods, without knowing where you are going
or what adventure you are about to meet next, is not as pleasant as
one might think. The woods are always beautiful and impressive, and
if you are not worried or hungry you may enjoy them immensely; but
Dorothy was worried and hungry that morning, so she paid little
attention to the beauties of the forest, and hurried along as fast as
she could go. She tried to keep in one direction and not circle
around, but she was not at all sure that the direction she had chosen
would lead her to the camp.

By and by, to her great joy, she came upon a path. It ran to
the right and to the left, being lost in the trees in both
directions, and just before her, upon a big oak, were fastened two
signs, with arms pointing both ways. One sign read:

Take the other road to Bunbury

and the second sign read:

Take the other road to Bunnybury

"Well!" exclaimed Billina, eyeing the signs, "this looks as if
we were getting back to civilization again."

"I'm not sure about the civil'zation, dear," replied the little
girl; "but it looks as if we might get somewhere, and that's a big
relief, anyhow."

"Which path shall we take?" inquired the Yellow Hen.

Dorothy stared at the signs thoughtfully.

"Bunbury sounds like something to eat," she said. "Let's go
there."

"It's all the same to me," replied Billina. She had picked up
enough bugs and insects from the moss as she went along to satisfy
her own hunger, but the hen knew Dorothy could not eat bugs; nor
could Toto.

The path to Bunbury seemed little traveled, but it was distinct
enough and ran through the trees in a zigzag course until it finally
led them to an open space filled with the queerest houses Dorothy had
ever seen. They were all made of crackers laid out in tiny squares,
and were of many pretty and ornamental shapes, having balconies and
porches with posts of bread-sticks and roofs shingled with
wafer-crackers.

There were walks of bread-crusts leading from house to house and
forming streets, and the place seemed to have many inhabitants.

When Dorothy, followed by Billina and Toto, entered the place,
they found people walking the streets or assembled in groups talking
together, or sitting upon the porches and balconies.

And what funny people they were!

Men, women and children were all made of buns and bread. Some
were thin and others fat; some were white, some light brown and some
very dark of complexion. A few of the buns, which seemed to form the
more important class of the people, were neatly frosted. Some had
raisins for eyes and currant buttons on their clothes; others had
eyes of cloves and legs of stick cinnamon, and many wore hats and
bonnets frosted pink and green.

There was something of a commotion in Bunbury when the strangers
suddenly appeared among them. Women caught up their children and
hurried into their houses, shutting the cracker doors carefully
behind them. Some men ran so hastily that they tumbled over one
another, while others, more brave, assembled in a group and faced the
intruders defiantly.

Dorothy at once realized that she must act with caution in order
not to frighten these shy people, who were evidently unused to the
presence of strangers. There was a delightful fragrant odor of fresh
bread in the town, and this made the little girl more hungry than
ever. She told Toto and Billina to stay back while she slowly
advanced toward the group that stood silently awaiting her.

"You must 'scuse me for coming unexpected," she said, softly,
"but I really didn't know I was coming here until I arrived. I was
lost in the woods, you know, and I'm as hungry as anything."

"Hungry!" they murmured, in a horrified chorus.

"Yes; I haven't had anything to eat since last night's supper,"
she exclaimed. "Are there any eatables in Bunbury?"

They looked at one another undecidedly, and then one portly bun
man, who seemed a person of consequence, stepped forward and said:

"Little girl, to be frank with you, we are all eatables.
Everything in Bunbury is eatable to ravenous human creatures like
you. But it is to escape being eaten and destroyed that we have
secluded ourselves in this out-of-the-way place, and there is neither
right nor justice in your coming here to feed upon us."

Dorothy looked at him longingly.

"You're bread, aren't you?" she asked.

"Yes; bread and butter. The butter is inside me, so it won't
melt and run. I do the running myself."

At this joke all the others burst into a chorus of laughter, and
Dorothy thought they couldn't be much afraid if they could laugh like
that.

"Couldn't I eat something besides people?" she asked. "Couldn't
I eat just one house, or a side-walk or something? I wouldn't mind
much what it was, you know."

"This is not a public bakery, child," replied the man, sternly.
"It's private property."

"I know Mr.--Mr.--"

"My name is C. Bunn, Esquire," said the man. "'C' stands for
Cinnamon, and this place is called after my family, which is the most
aristocratic in the town."

"Oh, I don't know about that," objected another of the queer
people. "The Grahams and the Browns and Whites are all excellent
families, and there is none better of their kind. I'm a Boston
Brown, myself."

"I admit you are all desirable citizens," said Mr. Bunn rather
stiffly; "but the fact remains that our town is called Bunbury."

"'Scuse me," interrupted Dorothy; "but I'm getting hungrier
every minute. Now, if you're polite and kind, as I'm sure you ought
to be, you'll let me eat something. There's so much to eat here that
you will never miss it."

Then a big, puffed-up man, of a delicate brown color, stepped
forward and said:

"I think it would be a shame to send this child away hungry,
especially as she agrees to eat whatever we can spare and not touch
our people."

"So do I, Pop," replied a Roll who stood near.

"What, then, do you suggest, Mr. Over?" inquired Mr. Bunn.

"Why, I'll let her eat my back fence, if she wants to. It's
made of waffles, and they're very crisp and nice."

"She may also eat my wheelbarrow," added a pleasant looking
Muffin. "It's made of nabiscos with a zuzu wheel."

"Very good; very good," remarked Mr. Bunn. "That is certainly
very kind of you. Go with Pop Over and Mr. Muffin, little girl, and
they will feed you."

"Thank you very much," said Dorothy, gratefully. "May I bring
my dog Toto, and the Yellow Hen? They're hungry, too."

"Will you make them behave?" asked the Muffin.

"Of course," promised Dorothy.

"Then come along," said Pop Over.

So Dorothy and Billina and Toto walked up the street and the
people seemed no longer to be at all afraid of them. Mr. Muffin's
house came first, and as his wheelbarrow stood in the front yard the
little girl ate that first. It didn't seem very fresh, but she was
so hungry that she was not particular. Toto ate some, too, while
Billina picked up the crumbs.

While the strangers were engaged in eating, many of the people
came and stood in the street curiously watching them. Dorothy
noticed six roguish looking brown children standing all in a row, and
she asked:

"Who are you, little ones?"

"We're the Graham Gems," replied one; "and we're all twins."

"I wonder if your mother could spare one or two of you?" asked
Billina, who decided that they were fresh baked; but at this
dangerous question the six little gems ran away as fast as they could
go.

"You musn't say such things, Billina," said Dorothy,
reprovingly. "Now let's go into Pop Over's back yard and get the
waffles."

"I sort of hate to let that fence go," remarked Mr. Over,
nervously, as they walked toward his house. "The neighbors back of
us are Soda Biscuits, and I don't care to mix with them."

"But I'm hungry yet," declared the girl. "That wheelbarrow
wasn't very big."

"I've got a shortcake piano, but none of my family can play on
it," he said, reflectively. "Suppose you eat that."

"All right," said Dorothy; "I don't mind. Anything to be
accommodating."

So Mr. Over led her into the house, where she ate the piano,
which was of an excellent flavor.

"Is there anything to drink here?" she asked.

"Yes; I've a milk pump and a water pump; which will you have?"
he asked.

"I guess I'll try 'em both," said Dorothy.

So Mr. Over called to his wife, who brought into the yard a pail
made of some kind of baked dough, and Dorothy pumped the pail full of
cool, sweet milk and drank it eagerly.

The wife of Pop Over was several shades darker than her
husband.

"Aren't you overdone?" the little girl asked her.

"No indeed," answered the woman. "I'm neither overdone nor done
over; I'm just Mrs. Over, and I'm the President of the Bunbury
Breakfast Band."

Dorothy thanked them for their hospitality and went away. At
the gate Mr. Cinnamon Bunn met her and said he would show her around
the town. "We have some very interesting inhabitants," he remarked,
walking stiffly beside her on his stick-cinnamon legs; "and all of us
who are in good health are well bred. If you are no longer hungry we
will call upon a few of the most important citizens."

Toto and Billina followed behind them, behaving very well, and a
little way down the street they came to a handsome residence where
Aunt Sally Lunn lived. The old lady was glad to meet the little girl
and gave her a slice of white bread and butter which had been used as
a door-mat. It was almost fresh and tasted better than anything
Dorothy had eaten in the town.

"Where do you get the butter?" she inquired.

"We dig it out of the ground, which, as you may have observed,
is all flour and meal," replied Mr. Bunn. "There is a butter mine
just at the opposite side of the village. The trees which you see
here are all doughleanders and doughderas, and in the season we get
quite a crop of dough-nuts off them."

"I should think the flour would blow around and get into your
eyes," said Dorothy.

"No," said he; "we are bothered with cracker dust sometimes, but
never with flour."

Then he took her to see Johnny Cake, a cheerful old gentleman
who lived near by.

"I suppose you've heard of me," said old Johnny, with an air of
pride. "I'm a great favorite all over the world."

"Aren't you rather yellow?" asked Dorothy, looking at him
critically.

"Maybe, child. But don't think I'm bilious, for I was never in
better health in my life," replied the old gentleman. "If anything
ailed me, I'd willingly acknowledge the corn."

"Johnny's a trifle stale," said Mr. Bunn, as they went away;
"but he's a good mixer and never gets cross-grained. I will now take
you to call upon some of my own relatives." They visited the Sugar
Bunns, the Currant Bunns and the Spanish Bunns, the latter having a
decidedly foreign appearance. Then they saw the French Rolls, who
were very polite to them, and made a brief call upon the Parker H.
Rolls, who seemed a bit proud and overbearing.

"But they're not as stuck up as the Frosted Jumbles," declared
Mr. Bunn, "who are people I really can't abide. I don't like to be
suspicious or talk scandal, but sometimes I think the Jumbles have
too much baking powder in them."

Just then a dreadful scream was heard, and Dorothy turned
hastily around to find a scene of great excitement a little way down
the street. The people were crowding around Toto and throwing at him
everything they could find at hand. They pelted the little dog with
hard-tack, crackers, and even articles of furniture which were hard
baked and heavy enough for missiles.

Toto howeled a little as the assortment of bake stuff struck
him; but he stood still, with head bowed and tail between his legs,
until Dorothy ran up and inquired what the matter was.

"Matter!" cried a rye loafer, indignantly, "why the horrid beast
has eaten three of our dear Crumpets, and is now devouring a
Salt-rising Biscuit!"

"Oh, Toto! How could you?" exclaimed Dorothy, much
distressed.

Toto's mouth was full of his salt-rising victim; so he only
whined and wagged his tail. But Billina, who had flown to the top of
a cracker house to be in a safe place, called out:

"Don't blame him, Dorothy; the Crumpets dared him to do it."

"Yes, and you pecked out the eyes of a Raisin Bunn--one of our
best citizens!" shouted a bread pudding, shaking its fist at the
Yellow Hen.

"What's that! What's that?" wailed Mr. Cinnamon Bunn, who had
now joined them. "Oh, what a misfortune--what a terrible
misfortune!"

"See here," said Dorothy, determined to defend her pets, "I
think we've treated you all pretty well, seeing you're eatables an'
reg'lar food for us. I've been kind to you and eaten your old
wheelbarrows and pianos and rubbish, an' not said a word. But Toto
and Billina can't be 'spected to go hungry when the town's full of
good things they like to eat, 'cause they can't understand your
stingy ways as I do."

"You must leave here at once!" said Mr. Bunn, sternly.

"Suppose we won't go?" said Dorothy, who was now much
provoked.

"Then," said he, "we will put you into the great ovens where we
are made, and bake you."

Dorothy gazed around and saw threatening looks upon the faces of
all. She had not noticed any ovens in the town, but they might be
there, nevertheless, for some of the inhabitants seemed very fresh.
So she decided to go, and calling to Toto and Billina to follow her
she marched up the street with as much dignity as possible,
considering that she was followed by the hoots and cries of the buns
and biscuits and other bake stuff.