voice, that seemed to come from the pillows.
Dorothy rubbed her eyes. One of the bed posts was addressing her, and the big four-poster itself was dancing a regular jig.
"Oh, stop!" cried Dorothy, holding on to the post to keep from bouncing out. "Can't you see I'm awake?"
"Well, I go off duty now, and you'll have to hurry," said the bed sulkily. "I'm due at the lecture at nine."
"Lecture?" gasped Dorothy.
"What's so queer about that?" demanded the bed coldly. "I've got to keep well posted, haven't I? I belong to a polished set, I do. Hurry up, little girl, or I'll throw you out."
"I'm glad my bed doesn't talk to me in this impertinent fashion," thought Dorothy, slipping into her dress and combing her hair with her side comb. "Imagine being ordered about by a bed! I wonder if Sir Hokus is up." Parting the curtains she jumped down, and the bed, without even saying goodbye, took itself off.
Sir Hokus was sitting on a stile, polishing his armor with a pillow slip he had taken from his bed, and the Cowardly Lion was lying beside him, lazily thumping his tail and making fun of the passing furniture.
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