"This is all a terrible lie!" he wept. "What a misunderstanding!
I, who have always lived among waltzes and smiles, I, who am so graceful-can I ever disturb the peace?
Oh, Oh...."
No one knows what else happened to the dancing master that day.
And it is not of much importance to our story.
What is important is the fate of the flying balloon man.
There he was, flying along, like a piece of dandelion fuzz.
"This is ridiculous!" he howled. "I don't want to fly!
I simply don't know how to fly!"
But it was no use.
The wind grew stronger, it swept the balloons higher and higher, over the town and towards the Palace of the Three Fat Men.
Now and then the balloon man would get a peep at things below.
Then he would see the rooftops, the dirty tiles, the blocks of houses, the narrow blue ribbon of water, the tiny people and green patches of gardens.
The whole town was spinning around below him.
Things looked very bad, indeed.
"If I keep on in this direction, I'll tumble right into the park of the Three Fat Men!"
The balloon man shuddered at the thought. The next minute he was sailing slowly and gracefully over the park, getting lower and lower.
The wind was dying down.
"I'll land any minute now.
They'll catch me, then they'll beat me, then they'll put me in jail. Maybe they'll even chop my head right off, so as not to be bothered."
No one noticed him except a flock of birds that took off in fright from a nearby tree.
The floating bunch of balloons cast a light shadow, like a cloud.
It was a bouquet of rainbow colours as it slipped along the gravel path, over a flower bed, a statue of a boy riding a goose and a sentry who had fallen asleep.
Wonderful changes came over the sentry's face as the shadow slipped across it.
First his nose became blue, then green, and then red, like bits of coloured glass in a kaleidoscope.
The fatal moment was drawing near: the balloon man was blown towards the open windows of the Palace.
He was certain he would fly right into one of them, just like a piece of fluff.
And that is exactly what happened.
He flew into a window.
It was a window in the Palace kitchen, in the bakery, where the bakers and pastry cooks made cakes and pies.
There was to be a great feast at the Palace of the Three Fat Men to celebrate their victory over the rebels the day before.
After the feast the Three Fat Men, the State Council, the courtiers and special guests were all to go to Court Square.
My friends, it is a real treat to pay a visit to the Palace pastry cooks.
The Three Fat Men knew what good food was.
And then, it was such a special occasion.
A grand feast!
You can imagine what was going on in the Palace kitchens that morning.
As he flew into the bakery, the balloon man felt both terrified and excited.
It is probably just the way a wasp feels as it flies towards a cake which a careless housewife has left on the window-sill to cool.
He flew in very quickly and didn't really have a chance to look around.
At first, he thought he was in a strange bird-house, where many-coloured, rare tropical birds hopped and sang, whistled, chirped and chattered.
The very next second he decided it was not a bird-house after all, but a fruit shop, full of squashed tropical fruits that were dripping juice.
A dizzying sweet smell hit him in the nose; the hot, stuffy air was choking.
Everything was all jumbled together.
The balloon man landed with a plop! in something soft and warm.
He didn't let go of his balloons, but held them tightly by the strings.
Now the balloons floated over his head.
He shut his eyes and decided to keep them shut, no matter what happened.
"Now I know," he thought. "This is neither a bird-house nor a fruit shop.
It's a bakery.