With its coming the blue of the tent-poles seems to grow a shade softer and the great, rope-fretted roof and the lazy, breeze-wafted walls melt from white into gray. It is then that the red and gold cages slyly gleam from their places in the circle they form, and, most wonderful of all, then that every door opens, thanks to good Too-Bo-Tan. And on this particular evening of which you are to hear, you may be sure that the funny old clown in the polka-dot suit—that’s Diggeldy Dan—and the chattering brown fellow with the twinkling brown eyes—Monkey, of course—had loosed all the animals much faster than ever before. The reason? You’ve guessed it—the promised story from the Pretty Lady with the Blue-Blue Eyes. Hardly had the animals taken their places, when there came the sound of hoof-beats mingling with the laugh that was so like to tinkle bells, and into the circle galloped the White-White Horse, bearing the one for whom they all waited. “A merry twilight!” she cried, as the two came to a stop in front of the group. “A merry twilight to you,” answered Lion; and then all the rest added their voices in greeting while Dan, skipping to the side of the White-White Horse, offered his round, pointed hat as a cup to receive the Pretty Lady’s foot that he might assist her to alight. This she accepted as quick as a wink and, tossing her slim, little whip and the bag with the spangles to the broad back of Hippo, made a quick little run and a quick little bound, twitched her toe-tips together just as riders always do at the circus, and then ran straight to the seat in the midst of the animals. “Now,” said she, “if you will pay the strictest attention, I’ll go on with the story. But, first, who will tell me just how it began?” At this all the animals talked at one time and there arose such a din that the Pretty Lady put her two hands to her ears in direst despair. “Order! Order!” shouted Lion. “Gracious, what a racket! Giraffe, since you were the only one who remained silent, you may tell us the first part of the tale.” So Giraffe took the chalk and, going to the side of his house, wrote these words: “Many years ago—that time animals mixed with own folks only—wise monkey—Vargu by name—thinking—in tree—Leopard passes underneath—Signed: Giraffe.” “Exactly,” cried the Lady. “You see, the very wise monkey named Vargu had been sitting there wondering why it was that the different kinds of animals could not be more sociable. So, when the leopard came in sight, what do you suppose Vargu did? A most unheard of and a most daring thing—he spoke to him! Now at first the leopard, whose name was Soft Foot, could not believe his ears, so he kept straight on his way. But Vargu was determined. He spoke once again. And with that, the leopard stopped full in his tracks and gazed at the monkey in utter amazement. “‘Why, What does this mean!’ he called up to the other. ‘You cannot speak to me. You are a monkey.’