"Why are the stray dogs to have a strip of special comfortable carpet?" asked Christine.
"Because they like to pick the bones afterwards upon the carpet," said the Lion; "it's a little habit of theirs, and they are not so highly trained as we are."
A most extraordinary procession now made its appearance before them. The children might have thought it was a Noah's Ark, only the dogs advanced in fours. Newfoundlands, St. Bernards, Mastiffs, Retrievers, every conceivable dog down to tiny fox terriers, Spaniels and Yorkshire terriers. They all looked very happy and their coats shone as if they had been lately washed and had afterwards dried themselves in the golden rays of the warm sun, which even now seemed to linger over them.
"Lovely creatures," said Christine.
"Ripping," said Ridgwell, "they are dears."
"Started to munch their bones already," grunted the Lion. "Well, they're not so highly educated as we are. A party to them is a party, and they don't wait for anybody, which, after all, is the proper thing to do. Where's the Griffin?" demanded the Lion of Carry-on-Merry, after that intelligent creature, having acted like a verger (a habit he had probably acquired from a life-long proximity to Westminster Abbey), had shown all the dogs to their places along one side where the comfortable carpet formed a sort of aisle.
"Ha! Ha! Ha!" laughed Carry-on-Merry, "the Griffin is late."
"He's always late," grumbled the Lion, "his head's weak, and he never can remember what time a party starts."
"Here he comes," grunted Carry-on-Merry, "and, oh! my goodness, what does he look like?"
"Absolutely ludicrous as usual," said the Lion.