“Pie? I have a grand piana,
How would that suit, Miss Diana?”
The Inn Keeper looked inquiringly at the Patchwork Girl and, when she shook her head, danced crossly into the Inn and slammed the door.
“No wonder they call this a Viol Inn,
No dinner at all, just a dreadful din!”
mumbled Scraps, who hated to have Peter disappointed. Peter, with a sigh, jumped over the flighty dance steps, picked up the oztrich egg and, with Grumpy shuffling disconsolately after, started back toward the main street.
“Very awk—when one can’t talk,” wheezed the oztrich, rolling its eyes sadly at Peter.
“Never mind, a way I’ll find,
Tunester, will you be so kind—”
Touching a Tunester on the sleeve, Scraps trilled earnestly: