“Why,” whimpered Monkey, “Zebra and I talked it over and thought it would be fun to play circus. So we stole away to the little tents and borrowed some costumes. Now, don’t scold, Lion. We didn’t mean to do anything wrong.” “Hum,” answered Lion, who was really rather pleased with the thought. “Play circus, eh? Well—go ahead; let us see what you two can do.” “Oh,” returned Monkey, brightening up, “but we can’t perform without a ring, and a ringmaster and everything like that—” “And, of course, we must have music,” added Zebra. “You see we thought that since Elephant and Seal and their folks are such splendid musicians, perhaps they—” “Delighted, I’m sure,” agreed Elephant, amid his family’s ponderous nods of approval. “At your service, always,” chimed Seal, as his household clapped their funny front fins in consent. “If no objection—will make ring,” scrawled Giraffe on the side of a cage. Of course there was none; so, digging the top from Dan’s pocket, and using his hind feet as a pivot, Giraffe spread his front legs wide apart, reached far out with his neck, and gradually swung around in a great circle While he described an almost perfect ring on the ground by using the spike in the top for a marker. [Illustration: And so this strangest of all circuses began. _Page 83._] Meanwhile, many willing workers rolled a dozen or more gayly painted “tubs” to the edge of the ring. Then came the band bringing all manner of drums and queer-looking horns, to say nothing of Elephant carrying his mammoth bass viol; after which each player took a seat on one of the tubs and began to “tune up” for the circus. “Of course, we must have an announcer,” said Lion. “I’ll be him,” cried Tiger. Needless to say, Diggeldy Dan was the clown, while Lion—wearing an old silk hat that Seal sometimes juggled in the real circus, and armed with a whip that Puma had brought from the great tent beyond—played ringmaster. And so this strangest of all circuses began. “Just watch my two ears for the tempo and time,” said Elephant, who conducted the band. Thus, with the bow of his great fiddle held firmly in his forefoot, and playing notes that fairly boomed with their bigness, he set his ears to beating: “One, two, three; one, two, three,” while the music tripped forth in a soft, swaying waltz. After a few bars had been played, Tiger raised his paw for silence and then stepped gravely to the front of the ring. “Ladies and gentlemen,” said he, “I take pleasure in announcing Mademoiselle Monkeyetta, direct from the deepest depths of Jungleland, who, with her marvelous steed, Zebraello, will now astonish you with her wonderful feats of riding.” At this Seal and his family played a ringing, lingering “ta-ta-a-a-ah” on their horns; the band struck up the liveliest of melodies, while into the ring trotted Zebra with Monkey posed on his back. Close behind came Diggeldy Dan, balancing his round, pointed hat on the tip of his nose.