"I'm trying to," said Billy. "Excuse me, I've seen many dancing bears, but I've never until now laid my eyes on flying ones." "We're Bugbears, if that's what you want to know," said the bear in a surly voice. "Thank you," said Billy, smiling in hopes that by being very, very polite and pleasant himself he could improve their temper. "Save your thanks, they are not wanted." "My goodness, you're as cross as----" "A bear," interrupted the Big Bear, "exactly, and I'm proud of it. What's the good of being polite--tell the truth, I say, no matter whom it hurts." "I'm sure that the truth is always best," said Billy. "It's not," said the bear; "never tell it if it doesn't hurt. Under those circumstances, I say, tell a bear faced lie." "You haven't a very sweet disposition, have you?" "No, thank goodness, I haven't--what would a Bug Bear do with a sweet disposition unless he could eat it?" "I don't know," said Billy. "Of course you don't--nobody ever said you did--boys don't know anything." "Here we are," cried the Little Bug Bear. And sure enough, they were standing in the strangest of strange looking towns. Every house and every building was covered with an enormous derby hat, while the windows and doors were so arranged that at a little distance they looked like the eyes and nose and mouth of a face. "Where are we?" asked Billy, looking about him in surprise. "Derby Town--where else do you think?" said Big Bug Bear. "I didn't know," said Billy. "For goodness' sake, say something original," said the bear crossly. "What an idiot you are, to be sure!" Billy ignored this remark. He had had some experience with cross people in his messenger service--people who were cross for no earthly reason but that he was a little boy--and he had always found it better to say as little as possible when they bullied him. Nevertheless it made him very, very uncomfortable, and of course the more uncomfortable he got the more blunders he made. "Can't you stand up--you're all feet, I declare," said Big Bug Bear, when Billy stumbled over a stone in the path. With that he gave him a push that nearly sent him on his face. "Stand up, I tell you," said the bear, catching him by the arm and jerking him back so that he nearly fell on his back this time. "Excuse me, sir--I didn't mean to," said Billy, almost ready to cry. "Didn't mean to, didn't mean to--don't tell me that; you did it on purpose, anyone can see that with half an eye." And with that all the Bug Bears took turns in pulling and jerking him about. Billy was afraid to resent it, for their teeth looked very white and very sharp, and their claws looked very long, but he kept his eyes open for some means of escape. After a while, though, this exercise seemed to put them in a little better temper--just as it does lots of human bears--and they allowed Billy to walk along with only an occasional cuff or jerk.