There were fewer houses and fewer fruit trees, and the farther they went the more dismal and lonesome the country became.
At noon they sat down by the roadside, near a little brook, and Dorothy opened her basket and got out some bread.

She offered a piece to the Scarecrow, but he refused.
"I am never hungry," he said, "and it is a lucky thing I am not, for my mouth is only painted, and if I should cut a hole in it so I could eat, the straw I am stuffed with would come out, and that would spoil the shape of my head." Dorothy saw at once that this was true, so she only nodded and went on eating her bread.
"Tell me something about yourself and the country you came from," said the Scarecrow, when she had finished her dinner.

So she told him all about Kansas, and how gray everything was there, and how the cyclone had carried her to this queer Land of Oz.
The Scarecrow listened carefully, and said, "I cannot understand why you should wish to leave this beautiful country and go back to the dry, gray place you call Kansas." "That is because you have no brains" answered the girl.

"No matter how dreary and gray our homes are, we people of flesh and blood would rather live there than in any other country, be it ever so beautiful.
There is no place like home." The Scarecrow sighed.
"Of course I cannot understand it," he said.

"If your heads were stuffed with straw, like mine, you would probably all live in the beautiful places, and then Kansas would have no people at all.