Uncle Henry jumped to his feet. “There’s a twister comin'! Run for the cellar!”

Toto jumped out of Dorothy’s arms and hid under the bed. She made a grab for Toto.

The wind gave a great shriek. The house whirled around two or three times. Slowly it rose up in the air—higher and higher—until it perched on top of the funnel cloud—where it was carried miles away—as easily as if it were a feather.

A small old woman, in a white gown covered with stars glistening like diamonds, greeted Dorothy, “Welcome to the land of the Munchkins, most noble Sorceress. I am the Good Witch of the North. We are grateful to you for killing the Wicked Witch of the East and setting our people free.”

Dorothy listened in wonder—what could she possibly mean by calling her a "sorceress," and saying she’d killed a Witch?

Dorothy and Toto had been traveling for some time down the yellow brick road when they paused to rest. Not far away, stuck up on a high pole in a cornfield, Dorothy saw a Scarecrow.

The Tin Man heaved a big sigh of relief as he moved his head from side to side. “You saved my life. I might’ve stood there forever, if you hadn’t come along.”

“Don’t you dare bite Toto! You ought to be ashamed of yourself, a big beast like you, biting a little bitty dog!”

“I didn’t bite him,” said the Lion, and rubbed his nose with his paw. “No, but you tried to. You’re nothing but a big coward.”

Dorothy walked into the Throne Room. Sitting on a throne of green marble, was a gigantic head with no arms or legs—or body to support it.

As they set out on their mission to kill the Wicked Witch of the West, Dorothy and her friends traveled through bogs and marshes. They ran into bat-winged flying monkeys, and fighting trees.

Worst of all, when they returned to the Emerald City to claim their rewards, they found out that the Wizard of Oz was a big fake.

Their final hope was Glinda, the Good Witch of the South. They found her castle, where she was sitting on a throne covered with the reddest rubies, wearing a dress of pure white.