When he got to his home in the Huge Green Hill, he just laid down and cried aloud and screamed and kicked his hind legs until he scratched a hole in the floor of his cave.

"Just because I'm a Lion," he sobbed, "just because I'm a poor, sensitive, helpless, orphan Lion nobody has one particle of manners. They won't even sell me a bottle of toothache drops. And I wasn't going to touch that dentist – until he had cured me and wrapped up the bottle nicely in paper. Not a touch was I going to touch him until he had done that."

He opened his mouth so wide to roar with grief that I flew out of it. I had meant to give him a lesson and I'd given him one. When I flew out of his mouth of course his beautiful double teeth stopped aching. It was such a relief to him that it made quite a change in his nature and he sat up and began to smile. It was a slow smile which spread into a grin even while the tear–drops hung on his whiskers.

"My word! How nice," he said. "It's stopped."

I had flown to the top of his ear and I shouted down it.

"I stopped it," I said. "And I began it. And if you don't behave yourself, I'll give you earache and that will be worse."

Before I had given him his lesson he would have jumped at me but now he knew better. He tried to touch my feelings and make me sorry for him. He put one paw before his eyes and began to sniff again.

"I am a poor sensitive lonely orphan Lion,' he said.

"You are nothing of the sort," I answered very sharply. "You are not poor, and heaven knows you are not sensitive, and you needn't be lonely. I don't know whether you are an orphan or not – and I don't care. You are a nasty, ill–tempered, selfish, biting, chewing thing."

"There's a prejudice against Lions," he wept. "People don't like them. They never invite them to children's parties – nice little fat, tender, children's parties – where they would enjoy themselves so much – and the refreshments would be just what they like best. They don't even invite them to grown–up parties. What I want to ask you is this: has one of those villagers called on me since I came here – even a tough one?"

"Nice stupids they would be if they did," I answered.

He lifted up his right paw and shook his head from side to side in the most mournful way.

"There," he said. "You are just as selfish as the rest. Everybody is selfish. There is no brotherly love or consideration in the world. Sometimes I can scarcely bear it. I am going to ask you another question, and it is almost like a riddle. Who did you ever see try to give pleasure to a Lion?"

I got into his ear then and shouted down it as loud as ever I could.

"Who did you ever see a Lion try to give pleasure to?" I said. "You just think over that. And when you find the answer, tell it to me."

I don't know whether it was the newness of the idea, or the suddenness of it, but he turned pale. Did you ever see a Lion turn pale? I never did before and it was funny. You know people's skins turn pale but a Lion's skin is covered with hair and you can't see it, so his hair has to turn pale or else you would never know he was turning pale at all. This Lion's hair was a beautiful tawny golden color to begin with and first his whiskers turned white and then his big mane and then his paws and then his body and last his long splendid tail with the huge fluffy tuft on the end of it. Then he stood up and his tail hung down and he said weakly:

"I do not know the answer to that riddle. I will go and lie down in my Cave. I do not believe I have one friend in this world." And he walked into his Cave and laid down and sobbed bitterly.

He forgot I was inside his ear and that he carried me with him. But I can tell you I had given him something to think of and that was what he needed. This way of feeling that nothing in the world but a Lion has a right to be comfortable – just because you happen to be a Lion yourself – is too silly for anything.

I flew outside his ear and boxed it a little.

"Come!" I said. "Crying won't do you any good. Are you really lonely – really – really – really so that it gives you a hollow feeling?"

He sat up and shook his tears away so that they splashed all about – something like rain.

"Yes," he answered, "to tell the truth I am – I do like Society. I want friends and neighbors – and I don't only want them for dessert, I am a sociable Lion and am affectionate in my nature – and clinging. And people run as fast as they can the moment they hear my voice." And he quite choked with the lump in his throat.

"Well," I snapped, "what else do you expect?" That overcame him and he broke into another sob. "I expect kindness," he said, "and invitations to afternoon teas – and g–g–arden parties – "

"Well you won't get them," I interrupted, "If you don't change your ways. If you eat afternoon teas and garden parties as though they were lettuce sandwiches, you can't expect to be invited to them. So you may as well go back to the desert or the jungle and live with Lions and give up Society altogether."

"But ever since I was a little tiny Lion – a tiny, tiny one – I have wanted to get into Society. I will change – I will! Just tell me what to do. And do sit on my ear and talk down it and stroke it. It feels so comfortable and friendly."

You see he had forgotten that he had meant to chew me up. So I began to give him advice.

"The first things you will have to do will be to change your temper and your heart and your diet, and stop growling and roaring when you are not pleased.'

"I'll do that, I'll do that," he said ever so quickly. "You don't want me to cut my mane and tail off, do you?"

"No. You are a handsome Lion and beauty is much admired." Then I snuggled quite close up to his ear and said down it, "Did you ever think how nice a Lion would be if – if he were much nicer?"

"N–no," he faltered.

"Did you ever think how like a great big cozy lovely dog you are? And how nice your big fluffy mane would be for little girls and boys to cuddle in, and how they could play with you and pat you and hug you and go to sleep with their heads on your shoulder and love you and adore you – if you only lived on Breakfast Foods and things – and had a really sweet disposition?"