"Why, shouldn't there be?" snapped the Hungry Tiger. Being hungry made him a bit irritable. "Doesn't the sun go down every day?" Betsy and Carter exchanged startled glances, for neither of them had thought of this; and the little girl, gazing dreamily across the soft fields, began to wonder what exciting adventures and strange experiences lay ahead of them. But the Hungry Tiger was more interested in food. "Maybe there'll be something to eat in the city," he wheezed in a weak voice. "Let's waken the others." Prince Evered and the sad singer were already up and after a few shakes and thumps on the back, the Rash Barber lifted his head.
"What's up?" he inquired sleepily.
"Nothing," giggled Betsy. "Don't you remember we all fell down?"
"Don't remember a thing since I hit the feathers," yawned the barber, plucking a tuft of down from his beard.
"Well, this is Down," laughed Betsy, pointing to the sign.
"And time to get up," added the Hungry Tiger gruffly. "We're going off to that city over there to see if we can find some breakfast. Jump on my back Betsy, and you, too." The Hungry Tiger nodded at the ragged little Prince. "What do they call you?" he asked kindly.
"The Scarlet Prince, the Son of Asha,
Prince Evered of Rash, the Pasha!"
Droned the sad singer with a deep salaam toward the youthful ruler.
"All that?" gasped the Hungry Tiger, putting back his ears.