He was seated near a large stone in the shade of a small umbrella, and he was talking to himself.
When he heard the footsteps of the party, he arose to his feet and made a low bow, sweeping the dust from the ground with the top of his high hat.
“Good afternoon!” he called cheerily.
Then seeing the Princess, who had been walking behind Gran’pa, he rushed towards her and threw himself at her feet.
“It’s my old Dancing Master, Tiptoe!” cried the Princess as she pulled the little man to his feet and gave him a hug before introducing him to Gran’pa and the others.
“What are you doing way out here in the mountains?” the Princess asked when they had all taken seats around the Dancing Master.
The Dancing Master took out a red handkerchief and wiped his nose-glasses carefully. “It’s really a long story,” he replied. “Won’t you tell me where you have been for eighty years first?” he inquired of the Princess.
The Princess told him of her strange adventure with the Queer Horse and all that had happened up to the time she was rescued from the Green Jar by Gran’ma.
When she had finished her story the Dancing Master took Gran’ma’s hand and kissed it.
“Everyone in the City of Nite owes you a debt of gratitude, Gran’ma,” he said, “and in some manner or other I, for one, hope to repay you!”