best. He shouted as loudly as he did at play, as loudly as when he swam and raced in the water, as loudly as any boy could shout. But it seemed to him that his voice carried hardly farther than the little chipmunk-and-squirrel heralds before him, and that nobody heard him.
Still, it was all such fun! The glitter of the procession, the eagerness of the people, the lilt and rhythm of the music. And fun over all was it to be carried by the carnival king himself, high above everyone and dressed like a golden trumpet. Surely, surely no boy ever had more fun than that! Surely, surely it was no great marvel that after a little time, so loud was the clamour and so fast the excitement, that Peter stopped crying his message, and merely watched and laughed and delighted with the rest.
Up and down through the thronged streets they went, that great, glittering procession, winding its mile or more of spangles and gilding and gay dress and animals richly caparisoned. Everywhere the crowded walks and windows and balconies sent cheers into the air, everywhere flowers were thrown and messages tossed and melody flooded. And wherever that long line passed, everyone noted the king’s trumpet and
