“No,” added Cayke the Cookie Cook, hastily, “you must be very polite to the great Frogman, for he is the wisest creature in all the world.”

“Who says that?” inquired Wiljon.

“He says so himself,” replied Cayke, and the Frogman nodded and strutted up and down, twirling his gold-headed cane very gracefully.

“Does the Scarecrow admit that this overgrown frog is the wisest creature in the world?” asked Wiljon.

“I do not know who the Scarecrow is,” answered Cayke the Cookie Cook.

“Well, he lives at the Emerald City, and he is supposed to have the finest brains in all Oz. The Wizard gave them to him, you know.”

“Mine grew in my head,” said the Frogman pompously, “so I think they must be better than any wizard brains. I am so wise that sometimes my wisdom makes my head ache. I know so much that often I have to forget part of it, since no one creature, however great, is able to contain so much knowledge.”

“It must be dreadful to be stuffed full of wisdom,” remarked Wiljon reflectively, and eyeing the Frogman with a doubtful look. “It is my good fortune to know very little.”

“I hope, however, you know where my jeweled dishpan is,” said the Cookie Cook anxiously.

“I do not know even that,” returned the Winkie. “We have trouble enough in keeping track of our own dishpans, without meddling with the dishpans of strangers.”

Finding him so ignorant, the Frogman proposed that they walk on and seek Cayke’s dishpan elsewhere. Wiljon the Winkie did not seem greatly impressed by the great Frogman, which seemed to that personage as strange as it was disappointing; but others in this unknown land might prove more respectful.

“I’d like to meet that Wizard of Oz,” remarked Cayke, as they walked along a path. “If he could give a Scarecrow brains he might be able to find my dishpan.”

“Poof!” grunted the Frogman scornfully; “I am greater than any wizard. Depend on me. If your dishpan is anywhere in the world I am sure to find it.”

“If you do not, my heart will be broken,” declared the Cookie Cook in a sorrowful voice.

For a while the Frogman walked on in silence. Then he asked:

“Why do you attach so much importance to a dishpan?”

“It is the greatest treasure I possess,” replied the woman. “It belonged to my mother and to all my grandmothers, since the beginning of time. It is, I believe, the very oldest thing in all the Yip Country—or was while it was there—and,” she added, dropping her voice to an awed whisper, “it has magic powers!”

“In what way?” inquired the Frogman, seeming to be surprised at this statement.