"They're the prickliest thistles I ever felt," grumbled the Lion.

"My legs smart yet from their stings, though I jumped out of them as quickly as I could." "Here is a new difficulty," remarked the Wizard in a grieved tone.

"The city has stopped hopping around, it is true, but how are we to get to it over this mass of prickers ?" "They can't hurt ME," said the thick-skinned Woozy, advancing fearlessly and trampling among the thistles.
"Nor me," said the Wooden Sawhorse.
"But the Lion and the Mule cannot stand the prickers," asserted Dorothy, "and we can't leave them behind." "Must we all go back ?" asked Trot.
"Course not!" replied Button-Bright scornfully.

"Always when there's trouble, there's a way out of it if you can find it." "I wish the Scarecrow was here," said Scraps, standing on her head on the Woozy's square back.

"His splendid brains would soon show us how to conquer this field of thistles." "What's the matter with YOUR brains ?" asked the boy.
"Nothing," she said, making a flip-flop into the thistles and dancing among them without feeling their sharp points.