Charlie came up to Jeremy, and put his great arms round him, trying to swing him off the ground.

“Stop that, Charlie,” said Jeremy, wriggling free. “Look out — here comes the Dancing Donkey! Better get out of the ring — goodness knows what antics he’ll be up to!”

In came the Dancing Donkey. He was dark grey, and tossed his head as he came galloping in. He stood and looked round at everyone. Then he sat down, lifted up a leg and scratched his nose. The children stared in astonishment. They had never in their lives seen a donkey do that before! Then, when the band suddenly began to play, the donkey stood up and listened, flapping his ears first one way and then another, and nodding his head in time to the music.

The band changed its tune to a march. The donkey listened again, and then began to march round the ring in perfect time — clip-clop-clip-clop-clip-clop. Then it apparently felt tired, and sat down heavily on its back legs. The children couldn’t help laughing. The donkey got up, and somehow its back legs became entangled with its front ones, and it fell down, looking most ridiculous.

“Has it hurt itself?” asked Anne, anxiously. “Oh dear — it will break one of its legs if it goes on like this. Look, it can’t untangle them, Jeremy.”

The donkey gave a mournful bray, tried to get up, and flopped down again. The band changed its tune, and the donkey leapt up at once, and began to do a kind of tap-dance — clickety-click, clickety-click, clickety-click — it was marvellous!

“I shouldn’t have thought that a donkey could possibly have been taught to tap-dance,” said George.

Soon the donkey seemed to feel tired again. It stopped dancing, but the band still went on playing. The donkey ran towards it and stamped its foot.

A weird voice suddenly came from it. “Too fast! TOO FAST!” But the band took no notice and went on playing. The donkey bent down, wriggled hard — and its head fell off on to the grass in the ring! Anne gave a shriek of fright.

“Don’t be an ass, Anne,” said Dick. “You didn’t think the donkey was a real one, did you?”

“Isn’t it?” said Anne, relieved. “It looks just like that donkey that used to give rides to children on Kirrin beach.”

The donkey now split in half, and a small man climbed out of each half, taking their legs carefully out of the donkey’s legs. The donkey-skin fell to the ground, and lay there, flat and collapsed.

“Wish I had a donkey-skin like that,” said Tinker. “I’ve got a friend at school who could be the back legs and I’d be the front legs. The things we’d do!”

“Well, I must say you’d make a first-class donkey, the way you behave sometimes,” said George. “Look, this must be Dead-Shot Dick coming on.”

But before Dead-Shot Dick could do any of his shooting tricks, the two donkey-men had run to the band and begun a loud argument with them.