To their astonishment they beheld a small round table running as fast as its four spindle legs could carry it, and to the top was screwed fast a phonograph with a big gold horn.
"Hold on!" shouted the phonograph.

"Wait for me!" "Goodness me; it's that music thing which the Crooked Magician scattered the Powder of Life over," said Ojo.
"So it is," returned Bungle, in a grumpy tone of voice; and then, as the phonograph overtook them, the Glass Cat added sternly: "What are you doing here, anyhow ?" "I've run away," said the music thing.

"After you left, old Dr.Pipt and I had a dreadful quarrel and he threatened to smash me to pieces if I didn't keep quiet.

Of course I wouldn't do that, because a talking-machine is supposed to talk and make a noise--and sometimes music.

So I slipped out of the house while the Magician was stirring his four kettles and I've been running after you all night.