“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.
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.