"And what a feast," added Ridgwell.
"Yes," replied the Lion philosophically, "it is really remarkable how times have changed. In the olden days, long, long ago, everything was reversed. For instance, it was the Lions who were then provided with the feast, and the children who were eaten."
"Horrid!" shivered Ridgwell. "You mean, Lal, those wicked Roman
Emperors who let the poor Christians be eaten?"
"My child," announced the Lion gravely, "free meals have invariably been productive of much unpleasant discussion and inquiries afterwards. But see now," he added coaxingly, "the perfect state of perfection the world has arrived at. The Pleasant Lions give the banquet themselves now. Every single thing to-night was provided by Lions. I gave the party—I, the Pleasant-Faced Lion. The four laughing lions from Westminster helped. Richard Coeur-de-Lion presided, and Messrs. Lyons provided all the refreshments."
"Any rate, Lal," observed Ridgwell, "although Christine and I both love you, of course—lions must have been very cruel and savage once, otherwise they wouldn't have thought of eating anybody, would they?"
"Ah, my little boy," replied the Pleasant-Faced Lion softly, "if you were kept without food for days and days I wonder what you would do."
"Tuck in like mad the first chance I got," announced Ridgwell with conviction.
"Perhaps the lions did the same thing," observed Lal gently. "However, I feel I cannot offer any excuse for their past conduct; yet," continued the Pleasant-Faced Lion wisely, as he jogged contentedly on, homewards towards Balham, "I have a fair proposition to make to you, although it may seem somewhat in the nature of a riddle to you both at the present moment."
"What is it?" asked the children in a breath.
"Suppose," said the Lion—"I only say suppose—both of you ever had a chance of eating me, of—ahem! in short, devouring your old friend Lal, would you do it?" asked the Lion, with an odd tremble in his voice.