When Billy heard this he said, "I won't march in their old
procession, and make a circus of myself. I'll run away first."
But he did not get a chance.
When the morning of the day of the procession came, Billy watched
the firemen polish the brass of the engine and trim it with
garlands of flowers tied with bright colored ribbons; but when
they commenced to gild the horses' hoofs one of them said to him:
"It will be your turn next Billy; we are going to give you a
scrubbing in the tub until your hair is as soft and shiny as
silk, and then we are going to gild your long horns and tie blue
ribbons on them, and put the handsomest wreath of pink roses we
can find round your neck. My! but you will look fine, Billy. And
we expect you to behave and walk in a dignified manner, for the
Fire Marshal is going to give you a gold medal to wear round your
neck for saving the baby's life."
"It is very nice of them to give me a medal," thought Billy, "and
they have been good to me; but I don't like being scrubbed and
dressed up like a clown, beside I am getting tired of town life
and I long for the country and Nanny.
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