The hare shot an outraged glance at the cart and snorted. Turning back to his imaginary audience, he beamed. “H’anda now, my bucolic friends, goodwives an’ rustic spouses—not forgettin’ your charmin’ young ’uns—we reach our fee-nah-lay! The very climax of our prodigious performance! Borrakul Ironchest an’ Elachim Oakpaw, the two strongest h’otters h’ever born, will h’attempt a darin’ display of muscle power, which H’i meself have seen kill ten h’other lesser beasts. If you are h’of a nervous nature, kindly look away, as swoonin’ an’ faintin’ may distract the h’artistes’ attention. These two mighty marvels will lift the h’entire, H’i repeat, the h’entire—disregardin’ me goodself, of course—they will lift the h’entire Wanderin’ Noonvale Companions Troupe . . . h’off thee gerround!”

Two burly otters, wearing tawdry gold-fringed pantaloons, skipped athletically forward, flexing their muscles and bowing. Puffing forth their chests and showing rows of white teeth in daredevil smiles, they performed a few limbering-up exercises and then went about their business. Seizing both ends of a long wooden bench, they started, with a great show of huffing and puffing, to lift. Standing on the bench were two moles, one dressed in spangled red bloomers, the other in a cloak and turban of jade green. Lying gracefully across the heads of the two moles was a mouse wearing a coronet of imitation flowers and a flowing sky-blue gown. Skilfully perched on one paw placed upon the mouse’s midriff, a hedgehog balanced precariously, his spikes tipped with a mass of pennants, small flags and bunting. Up, up went the bench, with all aboard it wobbling perilously. The hare, Florian, muttered encouragement in a loud stage whisper.

“Keep it goin’ up, chaps, that’s the ticket! Everybeast remain still now, hold y’positions. Up she goes, wot wot!”

Borrakul and Elachim grunted and strained artistically until they had finally lifted the bench over their heads. Suddenly Borrakul gave out a tremendous bellow.

“Yahwooooch!”

He released his hold on the bench and grabbed at his rear. Amid howls of dismay, the troupe and the bench came to earth in jumbled disarray. Florian dashed forward, furious. Down on all fours he berated Borrakul, who lay trapped by the bench, still clutching his bottom.

“Great seasons o’ sausages, you blitherin’ bangtailed buffoon! Why did y’let the bally bench drop?”

Crimson-faced, Borrakul gasped, “Because that perishin’ mousebabe shot me with a slingstone!”

Florian Dugglewoof Wilffachop drew himself to his full height, ears twitching, teeth grinding audibly. “Oho, he did, did he! Well, ’tis high time I had a serious encounter with that blisterin’ undersized miscreant. Dwopple! Come out o’ that cart, front’n’center, this instant. Out I say, sir!”