“Indeed, I did not,” she replied; and with that she gave three quick claps with her hands, while from somewhere in galloped the White-White Horse. And there, clasped to a buckle of his snowy trappings, were the balloons that had gone over the hill. Soon they were taken to where Monkey had found them; but, alas, the next moment the Lady had leaped to her place and was gone down the tent like a shot! “No, no!” cried all the animals. “Please, please don’t go away.” “Oh, please don’t,” wailed Monkey. “I didn’t mean to be rude when I asked about the balloons.” “I’m not going away,” the Lady laughed back. “I’m just combing my hair, and the mane and the tail of my White-White Horse.” And around the great circle the two of them sped; then stopped in front of the animals again. “You see,” said the Lady, as she tossed back her curls, “combs and brushes are so much bother that we never carry them, but just let the rush of the wind take their place. But now that is done, pray tell me why you sent for me and what I’m to do?” “Tell us a story,” cried Ostrich. “About Too-Bo-Tan,” suggested Little Black Bear. “Yes, yes!” chimed all the rest, “about Too-Bo-Tan.” “Very well,” nodded the Lady; and, leaning forward on the back of the White-White Horse, with her chin cupped in one hand, she began: “Many years ago—so very many that there are not enough stripes on Zebra’s sides, nor yet on his ears, to count them—there lived in far-away Jungleland a very wise monkey, named Vargu. In those days the different animals mingled not at all, each being content to keep solely to the company of his very own kind. Now, one day, this monkey named Vargu was seated in the fork of a tree, quite lost in deep thought, when a leopard trotted by underneath. Spying the leopard—” “Pretty Lady, Pretty Lady,” Diggeldy Dan interrupted. “Dan!” cried Lion. “But the Watch, the Petal Watch—it’s closing!” answered the clown in despair. “Goodness, so it is,” echoed the Lady. “But you shall not miss the story, for I will come again on the morrow. With the twilight I’ll come—until then fare you well.” And with that she was gone like a flash through the dusk, while the animals all hurried back to their places, each wondering what it was they were to hear the next day of the very wise monkey named Vargu. CHAPTER VIII IN WHICH THE PRETTY LADY CONTINUES HER STORY Hidden away in the folds of that mantle called twilight which, as every one knows, is laid over the earth with every setting of the sun, is a wee little hour that is fairly made for the telling of stories. And to those of Spangleland who know how to find it—though none save they who possess the Petal Watch will ever learn how—there is a very minute which marks the beginning of half-past twilight. And that is the best time of all.