Setting the Tempo

I slipped back indoors through the front door and bounded straight over to the piano, where a triangular wooden metronome was resting in solemn silence. Did anyone honestly expect a musical prodigy like me to leave a tempo unkept? I scrambled onto the polished key lid, leaned my hooves against the mahogany casing, and flicked the brass pendulum free with the tip of my microphone. *Tock... tock... tock!* The crisp wooden cadence filled the air with magnificent rhythm. But when I leaned in to catch the hollow echo, my hoof nudged the little brass weight down, sending the arm whipping into a frantic, runaway clatter! You wouldn't call that frantic, would you? A real star always plays presto.