ich
cracked all the way across.

"You've plenty of time; why don't you take it?" called the King
angrily, while two clothes trees helped the clock to its feet.

"They're all different," giggled Dorothy, nudging the Cowardly Lion.
Some pointed to eight o'clock, some to nine, and others to half past
ten.

"Why shouldn't they be different?" asked Sticken haughtily. "Some run
faster than others!"

"Pass the time, please," said the King, looking hard at Dorothy.

"The lazy lump!" growled the Cowardly Lion. But Dorothy picked up the
nearest little clock and handed it to King Fix Sit.

"I thought so," yawned the King, pointing at the clock. At this,
everybody began ringing bells till Dorothy was obliged to cover her
ears. In an instant, the whole street was filled with beds, "rolling
up just as if they were taxis," laughed Dorothy to Sir Hokus. The
Knight smiled faintly, but as he had never seen a taxi, he could not
appreciate Dorothy's remark.

"Here come your beds," said the King shortly. "Tell them to take you
around the corner. I can't abide snoring."

"I don't snore, thank you," said Dorothy angrily, but the King had
stepped into his bed and drawn the curtains tight.

"We might as well go to bed, I 'spose," said the little girl. "I'm so
tired!"

The three beds were swaying restlessly in the middle of the street.
They were tall, four-post affairs with heavy chintz hangings. Dorothy
chose the blue one, and Sir Hokus lifted her up carefully and then
went off to catch his bed, which had gotten into an argument with a
lamppost. When he spoke to it sharply, it left off and came trotting
over to him. The Cowardly Lion, contrary to his usual custom, leaped
into his bed, and soon the three four-posters were walking quietly
down the street, evidently following the King's instructions.

Dorothy slipped off her shoes and dress and nestled comfortably down
among the soft covers. "Just like sleeping in a train," she thought
drowsily. "What a lot I shall have to tell the Scarecrow and Ozma
when I get home."

"Good night!" said the bed politely.

"Good night!" said Dorothy, too nearly asleep to even think it
strange for a bed to talk. "Good night!"

CHAPTER 13

DANCING BEDS AND THE ROADS THAT UNROLLED

"It must be a shipwreck," thought Dorothy, sitting up in alarm. She
seemed to be tossing about wildly.

"Time for little girls to get up," grumbled a harsh voice that seemed
to come from the pillows.

Dorothy