The parade had begun to move.

It was a thrilling moment--the moment of all moments of Phil
Forrest's life.

The clowns' wagon had been placed well back in the line, so as
not to interfere with the music of the band itself. But Phil did
not care where he was placed. He only knew that he was in a
circus parade, doing his part with the others, and that, so far
as anyone knew, he was as much a circus man as any of them.

As the cavalcade drew out into the main street and straightened
away, Phil was amazed to see what a long parade it was. It
looked as if it might reach the whole length of the village.

The spring sun was shining brightly, lighting up the line,
transforming it into a moving, flashing, brilliant ribbon of
light and color.

"Splendid!" breathed the boy, removing the fish horn from his
lips for a brief instant, then blowing with all his might again.

As the wagons moved along he saw many people whom he knew. As a
matter of fact, Phil knew everyone in the village, but there were
hundreds of people who had driven in from the farms whom he did
not know. Nor did anyone appear to recognize him.

"If they only knew, wouldn't they be surprised?" chuckled the
lad. "Hello, there's Mrs. Cahill."