The twins, because they were the guests, were given each a hard-boiled egg. Dumpty was getting over her shyness now, and tried to behave as mummie does when she is out to tea. "Eggs are very dear now," she announced gravely, during a lull in the conversation; "how much do you pay for yours?" How the men and women laughed! It seemed as if Bill would never stop chuckling, and repeating to himself, "Pay for our eggs! That's a good un"; and every time that he said "Pay for our eggs!" he gave his leg a loud slap with his hand. When breakfast was over—and you may be sure that the twins ate a good one, although they did not much like the strong tea, without any milk—the woman said it was time for them to be starting home.
"Please," begged Dumpty, summoning all her courage—"please, may the piebald pony take us?" and in a few minutes Bill drove it up, harnessed to an old rickety cart, and the two children were packed in.
Just as they were starting Dumpty said, with a sigh, to the kind gipsy woman, "Thank you very, very much, and will you, please, tell the clown how sorry I am that I have not seen him to speak to?"
"'Ere I am, young mon—'ere I am!"
It was Bill who spoke. The twins could not believe their ears.
"Are you the clown?" said Dumpty in an awestruck voice; "are you really and truly the clown?"
Bill jerked the reins, and the piebald pony set off at a weary trot. "Yes, missie, I am the clown," he said.
"Where's your nose?" asked Humpty suspiciously.
"One's on my face—t'other's in the dressing-up box," answered the man, with a shout of laughter.
"Then you're not Poor Jane's brother?" said Dumpty.