Jack Pumpkinhead of Oz by Ruth Plumly Thompson

While Peter and his friends rested in their hidden cave, the lights in / the castle across the chasm burned far into the night, as the Baron / of Baffleburg sat in converse with Wagarag, his chief steward and / Major Domo. Biggen and Little, the baron's body guards, dozed stiffly / at their posts behind his chair, while the huge hunting dogs snored / upon the hearthstones. Flaring torches, set in stone holders in the / wall, flung a flickering light into the dim corners of the great stone / hall. Bear rugs were strewn about the flagged floor; swords, daggers / and glittering armor hung upon the walls and the furniture, the carved / chests, tables and chairs were big and clumsy, like the owner of the / castle himself.

With his chin resting in the palm of his hand, Mogodore stared moodily / into the fire, but Wagarag, a thin anxious little Baffleburgher, moved / about restlessly, straightening a tapestry here, a table cover there, / and never still for a moment.