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The Gnome King of Oz

peared long ago and, as they pushed up toward the clouds, Peter, regaining a little of his courage, gave the bird’s leg a sharp pull. “Stop!” shouted Peter in as commanding a voice as he could muster.

“Stop yourself,” retorted the balloon bird sharply,

and the words came in tiny explosions like the pop pop of an air gun. “Do you think I enjoy having my leg pulled?” it chirped indignantly. “But where are we going?” cried Peter anxiously. “Balloon Island!” popped the bird, bending its

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