Of all the comic, absurd, rare and amusing creatures the world contains, I must be the supreme freak.

Who but poor Margolotte could have managed to invent such an unreasonable being as I?
But I'm glad--I'm awfully glad!--that I'm just what I am, and nothing else." "Be quiet, will you ?" cried the frantic Magician; "be quiet and let me think! If I don't think I shall go mad." "Think ahead," said the Patchwork Girl, seating herself in a chair.
"Think all you want to.

I don't mind." "Gee! but I'm tired playing that tune," called the phonograph, speaking through its horn in a brazen, scratchy voice.

"If you don't mind, Pipt, old boy, I'll cut it out and take a rest." The Magician looked gloomily at the music-machine.
"What dreadful luck!" he wailed, despondently.

"The Powder of Life must have fallen on the phonograph." He went up to it and found that the gold bottle that contained the precious powder had dropped upon the stand and scattered its life-giving grains over the machine.