"Here come your beds," said the King shortly. "Tell them to take you around the corner. I can't abide snoring."
"I don't snore, thank you," said Dorothy angrily, but the King had stepped into his bed and drawn the curtains tight.
"We might as well go to bed, I 'spose," said the little girl. "I'm so tired!"
The three beds were swaying restlessly in the middle of the street. They were tall, four-post affairs with heavy chintz hangings. Dorothy chose the blue one, and Sir Hokus lifted her up carefully and then went off to catch his bed, which had gotten into an argument with a lamppost. When he spoke to it sharply, it left off and came trotting over to him. The Cowardly Lion, contrary to his usual custom, leaped into his bed, and soon the three four-posters were walking quietly down the street, evidently following the King's instructions.
Dorothy slipped off her shoes and dress and nestled comfortably down among the soft covers. "Just like sleeping in a train," she thought drowsily. "What a lot I shall have to tell the Scarecrow and Ozma when I get home."
"Good night!" said the bed politely.
"Good night!" said Dorothy, too nearly asleep to even think it strange for a bed to talk. "Good night!"
