The Lion thought it might be as well to frighten the Wizard, so he gave a large, loud roar, which was so fierce and dreadful that Toto jumped away from him in alarm and tipped over the screen that stood in a corner. As it fell with a crash they looked that way, and the next moment all of them were filled with wonder. For they saw, standing in just the spot the screen had hidden, a little old man, with a bald head and a wrinkled face, who seemed to be as much surprised as they were. The Tin Woodman, raising his axe, rushed toward the little man and cried out, “Who are you?”
“I am Oz, the Great and Terrible,” said the little man, in a trembling voice. “But don’t strike me–please don’t–and I’ll do anything you want me to.” Our friends looked at him in surprise and dismay. “I thought Oz was a great Head,” said Dorothy.
“And I thought Oz was a lovely Lady,” said the Scarecrow. “And I thought Oz was a terrible Beast,” said the Tin Woodman. “And I thought Oz was a Ball of Fire,” exclaimed the Lion. “No, you are all wrong,” said the little man meekly. “I have been making believe.” “Making believe!” cried Dorothy. “Are you not a Great Wizard?” “Hush, my dear,” he said. “Don’t speak so loud, or you will be overheard–and I should be ruined. I’m supposed to be a Great Wizard.”
Other poets have warbled the praises of the soft eye of the antelope