"What on earth will it be like, then?" ventured the Lion.

"I am sure you will honour and delight the company," laughed
Carry-on-Merry, with his wickedest laugh.

"Besides," demurred the Griffin hesitatingly, "I have two chilblains
and such tender paws, I don't think I could really."

"We did not ask you to _play_," interrupted the Lion shortly.

"No, no," replied the Griffin hastily, "to sing--I understand. Yes, to
sing. Oh--fancy asking _me_ to sing. Well, well, perhaps a few bars."

"Now we are in for it," said the Lion, "and I don't suppose you will
ever hear anything like it again."

"I do so want to hear the Griffin," said Ridgwell, "and I really cannot
think what it will be like."

"Like?" echoed the Lion, "it will be like the effect of the first early
gooseberries of the year without sugar or milk; it will be like slate
pencils squeaking upon slates; like a trombone that somebody is
learning to play for the first time. However, nothing short of an
earthquake will stop him now, for, as I tell you, he is simply dying to
sing the moment he thinks anybody at all will listen to him, and that
he can show off. However," added the Lion, "when it gets beyond all
human endurance, I make a sign to Richard I. Now the Griffin is
terribly frightened of Richard I."

"Why?" asked both the children.

"Because the Griffin is afraid that Richard will advance and hit him on
the paws with the big sword he carries."

"And will he?" asked the children.

"Yes," said the Lion, "if it gets too bad."

Everybody stopped talking now, for the Griffin, after much further
pressing, had made up his mind what he was going to sing. He decided
to make a start in a key which was indescribable, and with a voice that
resembled the twanging of a banjo that had not been tuned.

And thus the Griffin sang--

"Of a merry, merry king I will relate
Who owned much silver, gold and plate,
And wishing to be up-to-date
Within his city,
Placed a handsome Griffin outside the gate,
A creature pretty.

"Yet one thing, the merry, merry king forgot
That it would be his Griffin's lot
To be very, very cold, or very, very hot,
High up in Fleet Street.
So slowly the faithful creature got
Chilblains upon his feet.

"The Griffin grew prettier day by day
Directing the traffic along each way,
With always a pleasant word to say
All along Fleet Street.
One trouble alone caused him dismay