"Why don't you cross over and eat hay?" the boy asked
the beast.
"I'm not fond of hay," replied the Hip-po-gy-raf;
"straw is much more delicious, to my notion, and it's
more scarce in this neighborhood, too. Also I must
confess that I can't get across the ditch, for my body
is too heavy and clumsy for me to jump the distance. I
can stretch my neck across, though, and you will notice
that I've nibbled the hay on the farther edge -- not
because I liked it, but because one must eat, and if
one can't get the sort of food he desires, he must take
what is offered or go hungry."
"Ah, I see you are a philosopher," remarked the
Scarecrow.
"No, I'm just a Hip-po-gy-raf," was the reply.
Polychrome was not afraid of the big beast. She
danced close to him and said:
"If you can stretch your neck across the ditch, why
not help us over? We can sit on your big head, one at a
time, and then you can lift us across."
"Yes; I can, it is true," answered the Hip-po; "but I
refuse to do it. Unless --" he added, and stopped
short.
"Unless what?" asked Polychrome.
"Unless you first allow me to eat the straw with
which the Scarecrow is stuffed."
"No," said the Rainbow's Daughter, "that is too high
a price to pay. Our friend's straw is nice and fresh,
for he was restuffed only a little while ago."
"I know," agreed the Hip-po-gy-raf. "That's why I
want it. If it was old, musty straw, I wouldn't care
for it.
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