Seizing this she began to turn, and immediately a little tune gushed forth.
“Tum tum tum tumptity—ugh—ugh—ugh!” tinkled the musical-box, breaking off, as always, in something between a cough and a hiccup.
At the sound of these familiar strains, to which he and Tubby had so often waltzed in bygone days, Poor Bulka nearly broke down. “Stop it!” he cried, stamping his foot. “Stop it!” while Anna gazed in stupid surprise and the musical-box, which was far harder to stop than to set going, continued obstinately in its refrain.
“Stop it!” shouted the Money-Pig, aroused from his nap on the roof of the Noah’s Ark. “Must you make that horrible noise?”
Jensina rushed to take hold of the handle, and as she did so the Money-Pig, leaning over to shout, caught sight of the penny—Poor Cecco’s remaining penny—lying with Jensina’s treasures on the toy-cupboard sofa.
“There’s money!” he exclaimed. “I see it! Give it me at once!”
“I shall not,” returned Jensina with spirit. “It belongs to Poor Cecco!”
“He can’t take care of money! I need it! Give it me this instant!” the Money-Pig insisted. “No one can have money but me!”
“Don’t you give it him!” advised the Lion. “You’ll never get it back. He’s awfully greedy!”
