snore, because I never sleep. I don't even whinny, as
those puffy meat horses do. I wish that whoever stole Toto's growl had
taken the Mule's bray and the Lion's roar and the Woozy's snore at the
same time."

"Do you think, then, that my growl was stolen?"

"You have never lost it before, have you?" inquired the Sawhorse.

"Only once, when I had a sore throat from barking too long at the moon."

"Is your throat sore now?" asked the Woozy.

"No," replied the dog.

"I can't understand," said Hank, "why dogs bark at the moon. They can't
scare the moon, and the moon doesn't pay any attention to the bark. So
why do dogs do it?"

"Were you ever a dog?" asked Toto.

"No, indeed," replied Hank. "I am thankful to say I was created a
mule--the most beautiful of all beasts--and have always remained one."

The Woozy sat upon his square haunches to examine Hank with care.

[Illustration]

"Beauty," said he, "must be a matter of taste. I don't say your judgment
is bad, friend Hank, or that you are so vulgar as to be conceited. But
if you admire big waggly ears, and a tail like a paint-brush, and hoofs
big enough for an elephant, and a long neck and a body so skinny that
one can count the ribs with one eye shut--if that's your idea of beauty,
Hank--then either you or I must be much mistaken."

"You're full of edges," sneered the Mule. "If I were square, as you are,
I suppose you'd think me lovely."

"Outwardly, dear Hank, I would," replied the Woozy. "But to be really
lovely one must be beautiful without and within."

The Mule couldn't deny this statement, so he gave a disgusted grunt and
rolled over so that his back was toward the Woozy. But the Lion,
regarding the two calmly with his great yellow eyes, said to the dog:

"My dear Toto, our friends have taught us a lesson in humility. If the
Woozy and the Mule are indeed beautiful creatures, as they seem to
think, you and I must be decidedly ugly."

"Not to ourselves," protested Toto, who was a shrewd little dog. "You
and I, Lion, are fine specimens of our own races. I am a fine dog and
you are a fine lion. Only in point of comparison, one with another, can
we be properly judged, so I will leave it to the poor old Sawhorse to
decide which is the most beautiful animal among us all. The Sawhorse is
wood, so he won't be prejudiced and will speak the truth."

"I surely will," responded the Sawhorse, wagging his ears, which were
chips set in his wooden head. "Are you a