“Oh, not the best,” protested Prancer modestly. “I can do a few tricks, it is true, but—”
“Now you let me tell!” interrupted Tiny Tim, laughing. “You can jump over a barrel, stand up on a platform on your hind legs and turn around, you can pick up different colored flags, count, add up numbers on a blackboard and take letters from the post-office.
“Well, yes, I can do those things,” said Prancer.
“My! What a lot of tricks!” cried Tinkle. “I wonder if I shall ever be able to do even half that many?”
“Of course you will,” said Prancer kindly. “You wait; Mr. Drake will teach you as he taught me.”
All this while many things were going on about the circus grounds. The big tents had been put up, the animal cages wheeled in, the clowns were painting their faces in such funny ways to make the boys and girls laugh, and the big, golden wagons were being made ready for the parade. A band was playing, the pretty flags were blowing in the wind, and, altogether, the circus was such a nice place that, for the first time in a long while, Tinkle felt happy. But when he thought of George and the nice home he had been taken from he felt sad.
“Still, this is much better than being kept in the dirty stable,” thought the trick pony. “Maybe I’ll see George some day.”
Tom, the man who had cleaned and fed Tinkle, came running into the ponies’ tent.
“Come on now!” he cried. “Lively everybody!”