“What will happen otherwise?” asked the Wizard.

“I will stop you from living and forbid you to be planted,” returned the Prince.

“That does not sound especially pleasant,” said the little man, looking at the one with the star uneasily.  “But never mind.  I’ll beat Old Prickly, all right.”

“My name is Gwig,” said the Sorcerer, turning his heartless, cruel eyes upon his rival.  “Let me see you equal the sorcery I am about to perform.”

He waved a thorny hand and at once the tinkling of bells was heard, playing sweet music.  Yet, look where she would, Dorothy could discover no bells at all in the great glass hall.

The Mangaboo people listened, but showed no great interest.  It was one of the things Gwig usually did to prove he was a sorcerer.

Now was the Wizard’s turn, so he smiled upon the assemblage and asked: 

“Will somebody kindly loan me a hat?”

No one did, because the Mangaboos did not wear hats, and Zeb had lost his, somehow, in his flight through the air.

“Ahem!” said the Wizard, “will somebody please loan me a handkerchief?”

But they had no handkerchiefs, either.

“Very good,” remarked the Wizard.  “I’ll use my own hat, if you please.  Now, good people, observe me carefully.  You see, there is nothing up my sleeve and nothing concealed about my person.  Also, my hat is quite empty.”  He took off his hat and held it upside down, shaking it briskly.

“Let me see it,” said the Sorcerer.

He took the hat and examined it carefully, returning it afterward to the Wizard.

“Now,” said the little man, “I will create something out of nothing.”

He placed the hat upon the glass floor, made a pass with his hand, and then removed the hat, displaying a little white piglet no bigger than a mouse, which began to run around here and there and to grunt and squeal in a tiny, shrill voice.

The people watched it intently, for they had never seen a pig before, big or little.  The Wizard reached out, caught the wee creature in his hand, and holding its head between one thumb and finger and its tail between the other thumb and finger he pulled it apart, each of the two parts becoming a whole and separate piglet in an instant.

He placed one upon the floor, so that it could run around, and pulled apart the other, making three piglets in all; and then one of these was pulled apart, making four piglets.  The Wizard continued this surprising performance until nine tiny piglets were running about at his feet, all squealing and grunting in a very comical way.

“Now,” said the Wizard of Oz, “having created something from nothing, I will make something nothing again.”

With this he caught up two of the piglets and pushed them together, so that the two were one.  Then he caught up another piglet and pushed it into the first, where it disappeared.  And so, one by one, the nine tiny piglets were pushed together until but a single one of the creatures remained.  This the Wizard placed underneath his hat and made a mystic sign above it.  When he removed his hat the last piglet had disappeared entirely.