The children were finishing their lunches in the school yard when someone unexpected walked in.
A bear.
“Oh! Hurry, scurry, run!” they shouted, and they ran — all the way down the road to a big barn, where they caught their breath and agreed it had been a very close escape.
The bear, meanwhile, was having the time of his life.
“I don’t understand it at all,” he growled, wandering pleasantly around the empty yard. “Children come to the circus and stare at us and tell their parents how wonderful we are. But the moment I come to pay them a proper visit — off they run! Very confusing.”
He sniffed the air. Something smelled extraordinary.
“Goodies,” he said. “Wonderful, wonderful food!” He surveyed the abandoned lunches with great satisfaction. “How considerate. They left all this for me. And when I arrived, they slipped away so I wouldn’t feel watched while I ate. Very thoughtful children.”
He ate with tremendous enjoyment. “A luxurious meal,” he announced to nobody, when the last crumb was gone. “Fit for a bear.”
He was still congratulating himself when the circus keeper appeared, clipped a lead to his collar, and marched him back to his cage. The circus had stopped for a rest at the edge of town, and this bear had taken the opportunity to go visiting.
He had a great deal to tell the other animals that evening. He told it very well.
