Nyoda knitted her brows. “We simply have to have a Better Baby,” she affirmed. “It’s one of the best features. We’ll drape cheesecloth around him for a dress and he can play on a quilt on the floor—I mean the ground—instead of being taken for a ride by his nurse in a perambulator.”
“Poor Slim!” said Hinpoha. “How many more things are going to be wished on him? I’m afraid his ‘gall will be divided into three parts,’ too!”
“That would have been a very clever thing for you to say,” remarked the Captain, “if it had been original, but it wasn’t. They spring that over at our school, too. Slim isn’t doing any more than the rest of us at that. Only he’s so conspicuous that everything he does seems like a lot more than it really is.”
“How are the tickets going?” asked Sahwah.
“We’ve sold over a hundred,” announced the Captain with pride. “We’re famous people, we are.”
“Speak for yourself,” said Sahwah. “It isn’t we who are the attraction, though—it’s Sandhelo. I rode him through the streets and sold nearly fifty tickets to the children that followed us. They’re all attracted by the promise of a free ride after the show.”
“It’ll probably take all evening to give them the ride, and we’ll never get to that jubilation spread we’re going to have after the show, but we have to make our word good,” said Nyoda.
“Put them on four at once and we’ll get done somehow,” said Sahwah.
Hinpoha laid down her sewing and stretched her arms above her head. “I never knew circuses were such a pile of work,” she sighed.
“‘Wohelo means work,’