"I have a perfect right to contradict myself—it's only rude to contradict other people."
"But which is correct?"
"Both."
"How can they both be correct?"
"I don't know, but they are—but my, my, we're wasting time—we've got to dispose of you before morning."
"Why before morning?" asked Billy. "I'm in no hurry."
"You never are," said Gammon. "Night Mare, are you ready for your ride?"
"Yes, I will have to start now if I am to have any kind of a canter before the cock crows."
"Good!" whispered Billy to himself. "I wonder if I can still crow. It's worth trying, anyway—Cock-a-doodle-do!" And snap, the Night Mare, had broken her hitching-strap and was off in a jiffy with Gammon and Spinach and all the other dream sprites running pell-mell after her as fast as they could go.
Billy shook himself; sat up, to prove that he was no longer tied down; lay back, rolled over, and in a minute was sound asleep.