Dorothy Gale lived on a farm in Kansas, with her Aunt Em and her UncleHenry. It was not a big farm, nor a very good one, because sometimesthe rain did not come when the crops needed it, and then everythingwithered and dried up. Once a cyclone had carried away Uncle Henry'shouse, so that he was obliged to build another; and as he was a poorman he had to mortgage his farm to get the money to pay for the newhouse. Then his health became bad and he was too feeble to work.The doctor ordered him to take a sea voyage and he went to Australiaand took Dorothy with him. That cost a lot of money, too.

Uncle Henry grew poorer every year, and the crops raised on the farmonly bought food for the family. Therefore the mortgage could not bepaid. At last the banker who had loaned him the money said that if hedid not pay on a certain day, his farm would be taken away from him.

This worried Uncle Henry a good deal, for without the farm he wouldhave no way to earn a living. He was a good man, and worked in thefield as hard as he could; and Aunt Em did all the housework, withDorothy's help. Yet they did not seem to get along.

This little girl, Dorothy, was like dozens of little girls you know.She was loving and usually sweet-tempered, and had a round rosy faceand earnest eyes. Life was a serious thing to Dorothy, and awonderful thing, too, for she had encountered more strange adventuresin her short life than many other girls of her age.

Aunt Em once said she thought the fairies must have marked Dorothy ather birth, because she had wandered into strange places and had alwaysbeen protected by some unseen power. As for Uncle Henry, he thoughthis little niece merely a dreamer, as her dead mother had been, for hecould not quite believe all the curious stories Dorothy told them ofthe Land of Oz, which she had several times visited. He did not thinkthat she tried to deceive her uncle and aunt, but he imagined that shehad dreamed all of those astonishing adventures, and that the dreamshad been so real to her that she had come to believe them true.

Whatever the explanation might be, it was certain that Dorothy hadbeen absent from her Kansas home for several long periods, alwaysdisappearing unexpectedly, yet always coming back safe and sound, withamazing tales of where she had been and the unusual people she hadmet. Her uncle and aunt listened to her stories eagerly and in spiteof their doubts began to feel that the little girl had gained a lot ofexperience and wisdom that were unaccountable in this age, whenfairies are supposed no longer to exist.

Most of Dorothy's stories were about the Land of Oz, with itsbeautiful Emerald City and a lovely girl Ruler named Ozma, who was themost faithful friend of the little Kansas girl. When Dorothy toldabout the riches of this fairy country Uncle Henry would sigh, for heknew that a single one of the great emeralds that were so common therewould pay all his debts and leave his farm free. But Dorothy neverbrought any jewels home with her, so their poverty became greaterevery year.

When the banker told Uncle Henry that he must pay the money in thirtydays or leave the farm, the poor man was in despair, as he knew hecould not possibly get the money. So he told his wife, Aunt Em, ofhis trouble, and she first cried a little and then said that they mustbe brave and do the best they could, and go away somewhere and try toearn an honest living. But they were getting old and feeble and shefeared that they could not take care of Dorothy as well as they hadformerly done. Probably the little girl would also be obliged to goto work.

They did not tell their niece the sad news for several days,not wishing to make her unhappy; but one morning the little girlfound Aunt Em softly crying while Uncle Henry tried to comfort her.Then Dorothy asked them to tell her what was the matter.

"We must give up the farm, my dear," replied her uncle sadly, "andwander away into the world to work for our living."

The girl listened quite seriously, for she had not known before howdesperately poor they were.

"We don't mind for ourselves," said her aunt, stroking the littlegirl's head tenderly; "but we love you as if you were our own child,and we are heart-broken to think that you must also endure poverty,and work for a living before you have grown big and strong."

"What could I do to earn money?" asked Dorothy.

"You might do housework for some one, dear, you are so handy; orperhaps you could be a nurse-maid to little children. I'm sure I don'tknow exactly what you CAN do to earn money, but if your uncle and Iare able to support you we will do it willingly, and send you toschool. We fear, though, that we shall have much trouble in earning aliving for ourselves. No one wants to employ old people who arebroken down in health, as we are."

Dorothy smiled.

"Wouldn't it be funny," she said, "for me to do housework in Kansas,when I'm a Princess in the Land of Oz?"

"A Princess!" they both exclaimed, astonished.

"Yes; Ozma made me a Princess some time ago, and she has often beggedme to come and live always in the Emerald City," said the child.

Her uncle and aunt looked at her in amazement. Then the man said:

"Do you suppose you could manage to return to your fairyland, my dear?"

"Oh yes," replied Dorothy; "I could do that easily."

"How?" asked Aunt Em.

"Ozma sees me every day at four o'clock, in her Magic Picture. She cansee me wherever I am, no matter what I am doing. And at that time, ifI make a certain secret sign, she will send for me by means of theMagic Belt, which I once captured from the Nome King. Then, in thewink of an eye, I shall be with Ozma in her palace."

The elder people remained silent for some time after Dorothy hadspoken. Finally, Aunt Em said, with another sigh of regret:

"If that is the case, Dorothy, perhaps you'd better go and live in theEmerald City. It will break our hearts to lose you from our lives,but you will be so much better off with your fairy friends that itseems wisest and best for you to go."

"I'm not so sure about that," remarked Uncle Henry, shaking his grayhead doubtfully. "These things all seem real to Dorothy, I know; butI'm afraid our little girl won't find her fairyland just what she haddreamed it to be. It would make me very unhappy to think that she waswandering among strangers who might be unkind to her."

Dorothy laughed merrily at this speech, and then she became very soberagain, for she could see how all this trouble was worrying her auntand uncle, and knew that unless she found a way to help them theirfuture lives would be quite miserable and unhappy. She knew that sheCOULD help them. She had thought of a way already. Yet she did nottell them at once what it was, because she must ask Ozma's consentbefore she would be able to carry out her plans.

So she only said:

"If you will promise not to worry a bit about me, I'll go to the Landof Oz this very afternoon. And I'll make a promise, too; that you shallboth see me again before the day comes when you must leave this farm."

"The day isn't far away, now," her uncle sadly replied. "I did nottell you of our trouble until I was obliged to, dear Dorothy, so theevil time is near at hand. But if you are quite sure your fairyfriends will give you a home, it will be best for you to go to them,as your aunt says."

That was why Dorothy went to her little room in the attic thatafternoon, taking with her a small dog named Toto. The dog had curlyblack hair and big brown eyes and loved Dorothy very dearly.

The child had kissed her uncle and aunt affectionately before she wentupstairs, and now she looked around her little room rather wistfully,gazing at the simple trinkets and worn calico and gingham dresses, asif they were old friends. She was tempted at first to make a bundleof them, yet she knew very well that they would be of no use to her inher future life.

She sat down upon a broken-backed chair--the only one the roomcontained--and holding Toto in her arms waited patiently until theclock struck four.

Then she made the secret signal that had been agreed upon betweenher and Ozma.

Uncle Henry and Aunt Em waited downstairs. They were uneasy and agood deal excited, for this is a practical humdrum world, and itseemed to them quite impossible that their little niece could vanishfrom her home and travel instantly to fairyland.

So they watched the stairs, which seemed to be the only way that Dorothycould get out of the farmhouse, and they watched them a long time. Theyheard the clock strike four but there was no sound from above.

Half-past four came, and now they were too impatient to waitany longer. Softly, they crept up the stairs to the door of thelittle girl's room.

"Dorothy! Dorothy!" they called.

There was no answer.

They opened the door and looked in.

The room was empty.