whom Ann had often described to him.  There again, were other Bad Dreams that made the children almost smile as they remembered certain exciting times.  The Angry Farmer—­Rudolf had seen him before; he remembered his fierce expression, yes, and his short black whip, too!  Also the Cross Cook, her fat arms rolled up in her apron, and “I’m going to tell your mother,” written plainly on her round red face.  A great white Jam Pot danced just behind the Cook, and was followed by a dozen bright Green Apples.  A Dancing-master came next, bowing and smiling at Peter as he passed him, then a Bear paddling clumsily along on its hind legs, its great red mouth wide open to show its long white teeth, then a Gooseberry Tart marked “Stolen”, then an Arithmetic with a mean sort of face, rulers for legs, and compasses for arms; then a Clock that had been meddled with by somebody (Rudolf felt certain it was not by him) and kept striking all the time; then a Piano with a lot of horrid exercises waiting to be practised; then last of all a familiar clumsy figure with one red glaring eye—­their old enemy, the Warming-pan!

As Rudolf was trying to take in these, and many others in that curious throng, he felt himself sharply pinched by Ann.  “Look, look,” she whispered, “over there where it’s so dark, close to Peter.  Oh, don’t you know now who their Boss is?”

Rudolf looked.  Clearly enough now he saw two flaming green eyes and a clumsy black figure crouching on the ground.  Before this figure every one of the dancers made a low bow as he passed.

“Don’t you know him?” repeated Ann, shivering with excitement.  “It’s Manunderthebed!”

“Oh, well, what if it is?” whispered Rudolf.  “I stopped bothering about him years ago.  He’s only for babies.”

Ann was not deceived by Rudolf’s cheerful tone.  Manunderthebed might not amount to much at home with nurse and mother to frighten him away, but here in his own country it was not pleasant to meet him.

“He’s horrid,” said she.  “Oh, look, Ruddy, what is he doing now?”

Manunderthebed had stretched out a long black arm and pointed to the fire.  Instantly the Bad Dreams stopped their dance and vanished into the darkness.  When they came again into the firelight the children saw that the Cook, the Dancing-master, and several others carried large dishes in their hands which they now presented with low bows to Peter.

“It’s the Banquet!” whispered the Knight-mare nervously.  “If he touches a morsel, he’s lost.  He’ll go to sleep and dream Bad Dreams forever and a day—­which won’t be pleasant, I assure you.”

Ann and Rudolf had not waited for the Knight-mare to finish his speech.  They rushed on Peter, just as he had helped himself to an enormous slice of mince pie, and while Ann threw her arms about his neck, Rudolf snatched the tempting morsel out of his hand and cast it in the fire.  Of course Peter struggled and fussed and was not a bit grateful, but Rudolf and Ann did not care, for the Knight-mare’s warning rang in their ears.  Meanwhile the Bad Dreams had gathered round the three children in an angry circle, and Manunderthebed growled out: