She sat down on the grass and looked at her companions, and they sat down and looked at her, and Toto found that for the first time in his life he was too tired to chase a butterfly that flew past his head.

So he put out his tongue and panted and looked at Dorothy as if to ask what they should do next.
"Suppose we call the field mice," she suggested.

"They could probably tell us the way to the Emerald City." "To be sure they could," cried the Scarecrow.

"Why didn't we think of that before ?" Dorothy blew the little whistle she had always carried about her neck since the Queen of the Mice had given it to her.

In a few minutes they heard the pattering of tiny feet, and many of the small gray mice came running up to her.