“Perhaps the White-White Horse is delayed by the clouds,” suggested Elephant, as he paused long enough to push back the wall near the caves of the tent and peer into the dusk. “I can make out whole crowds of them along the streets of the sky. They have been there all afternoon. It is always that way on market days. Even the sun can scarcely find its way.” “How long do you suppose it has been since half-past twilight began?” asked Emu of Diggeldy Dan. “Well, well,” said the clown, as he drew the Petal Watch from the innermost depths of his round, funny hat, “now that’s what I call a question.” “Let me see,” mused he, setting his head on one side, pursing his very red lips and half shutting his two, twinkling eyes. “I should say—though, mind you, I do not pretend to be exactly correct—I should say it has been not less than five hippo-yawns, nor yet more than two cat-naps.” “Oh, surely, it must be longer than that,” protested Monkey. “It seems an age to me. I never saw such a watch, anyway. Now, if it had behaved for but a minute more last evening, we should all have known the secret of the Story Time Rock.” “Monkey, Monkey,” sighed Lion, “I am afraid that you are of that queer set of folks who are ever looking for a clock that will travel both ways at one time.” “Both ways at one time!” exclaimed Monkey. “Why, who ever spoke of any such thing? I surely did not, for, of course no such clock could possibly be.” “No, it could not,” answered Lion. “Yet, I repeat, that is what you would like. For, in one breath, you find fault with the Petal Watch because it moved too swiftly last night, and in the next you complain because it travels so slowly to-day.” “Exactly,” chimed Dan. “Well, I never stopped to think of it in just that way,” admitted Monkey, as he scratched his head, “and, besides—” “Besides,” broke in the keen-eared Hyena, “here comes the one for whom we’re all waiting!” Sure enough there resounded the patter of oncoming hoofs and the next moment into the menagerie tent galloped the White-White Horse, carrying the Pretty Lady with the Blue-Blue Eyes. Her pink cheeks made the pinker by the speed of the ride, and her curls blown straight back with the rush of the wind, she drew up in front of the group. “It was the clouds,” she explained. “There were simply no end of them out shopping to-day, and then any number waited to see the sun go down. Of course, all had to have spangles; and some of the baby clouds wanted two helpings. That all took time, but—here I am at last. See! the Spangle Bag is almost as flat as Elephant’s ear.” “Where will you get enough spangles to fill it again?” asked Camel. “I’ll be glad to tell you, but, for the present, one thing at a time. Remember, we have not yet solved the mystery of the Story Time Rock. Unless,” she hastened to add, “unless you have guessed the riddle of the voice that was stilled.”