The phonograph was very much alive, and began dancing a jig with the legs of the table to which it was attached, and this dance so annoyed Dr.Pipt that he kicked the thing into a corner and pushed a bench against it, to hold it quiet.
"You were bad enough before," said the Magician, resentfully; "but a live phonograph is enough to drive every sane person in the Land of Oz stark crazy." "No insults, please," answered the phonograph in a surly tone.

"You did it, my boy; don't blame me." "You've bungled everything, Dr.Pipt," added the Glass Cat, contemptuously.
"Except me," said the Patchwork Girl, jumping up to whirl merrily around the room.
"I think," said Ojo, almost ready to cry through grief over Unc Nunkie's sad fate, "it must all be my fault, in some way.

I'm called Ojo the Unlucky, you know." "That's nonsense, kiddie," retorted the Patchwork Girl cheerfully.

"No one can be unlucky who has the intelligence to direct his own actions.
The unlucky ones are those who beg for a chance to think, like poor Dr.
Pipt here.

What's the row about, anyway, Mr.Magic-maker ?" "The Liquid of Petrifaction has accidentally fallen upon my dear wife and Unc Nunkie and turned them into marble," he sadly replied.
"Well, why don't you sprinkle some of that powder on them and bring them to life again ?" asked the Patchwork Girl.
The Magician gave a jump.
"Why, I hadn't thought of that!" he joyfully cried, and grabbed up the golden bottle, with which he ran to Margolotte.
Said the Patchwork Girl: "Higgledy, piggledy, dee-- What fools magicians be! His head's so thick He can't think quick, So he takes advice from me." Standing upon the bench, for he was so crooked he could not reach the top of his wife's head in any other way, Dr.Pipt began shaking the bottle.