And all the other beautiful wild ducks followed calling, "Quonk-quonk-quonk!" So the little summer boy never knew the wild duck!

It is too bad that the fish and the frog are scared away when the summer boy goes in bathing. But it is only for a little while anyway. For the little summer boy's mother doesn't let him play in the lake all day as does the mother of the slippery shiny fish and the mother of the spotted green frog. She has called him now, and he calls back, "One more time!"

for no one loves the little lake as much as the little boy in the red bathing suit. He has climbed up on the rock. The water is running down him, for he is as wet as a baby seal. Now he puts out his hands, like this, and he calls out, "This time I'm going to take a headwards dive!"

In the lake they play, The spotted green frog And the slippery shiny fish.

They frisk and they whisk, And they dip and they flip.

And the water it glimmers, It ripples and twinkles When the frog and the fishes play.

In the lake they play, The beautiful duck And the rackety summer boy.

When the wild duck swims The water it skims.

But the boy with a shout He plumps in, he jumps out.

And the little lake shakes with his play.

HOW THE SINGING WATER GOT TO THE TUB

In this story I have tried to make the refrains carry the essential points in the content. I have tried, however, to subordinate the information to the pattern. This story came in response to direct questions during baths.

HOW THE SINGING WATER GOT TO THE TUB

Once there was a little singing stream of water. It sang whatever it did. And it did many things from the time it bubbled up in the far-away hills to the time it splashed into the dirty little boy's tub. It began as a little spring of water. Then the water was as cool as cool could be for it came up from the deep cool earth all hidden away from the sun. It came up into a little hollow scooped out of the earth and in the hollow were little pebbles. Right up through the pebbles, bubbling and gurgling it came. And what do you suppose the water did when the little hollow was all full? It did just what water always does, it tried to find a way to run down hill! One side of the little hollow was lower than the others and here the water spilled over and trickled down. And this is the song the water sang then:

"I bubble up so cool Into the pebbly pool.

Over the edge I spill And gallop down the hill!"

So the water became a little stream and began its long journey to the little boy's tub. And always it wanted to run down--always down, and as it ran, it tinkled this song:

"I sing, I run, In the shade, in the sun, It's always fun To sing and to run."

Sometimes it pushed under twigs and leaves; sometimes it made a big noise tumbling over the roots of trees; sometimes it flowed all quiet and slow through long gra.s.ses in a meadow. Once it came to the edge of a pretty big rock and over it went, splashing and crashing and dashing and making a fine, fine spray.

It sang to the little birds that took their baths in the spray. And the little birds ruffled their feathers to get dry and sang back to the little brook. "Ching-a-ree!" they sang. It sang to the bunny rabbit who got his whiskers all wet when he took a drink. It sang to the mother deer who always came to the same place and licked up some water with her tongue. To all of these and many more little wild wood things the little brook rippled its song:

"I sing, I run, In the shade, in the sun, It's always fun To sing and to run."

But to the fish in the big dark pool under the rocks it sang so softly, so quietly, that only the fishes heard.

Now all the time that the little brook kept running down hill, it kept getting bigger. For every once in a while it would be joined by another little brook coming from another hillside spring. And, of course, the two of them were twice as large as each had been alone. This kept happening until the stream was a small river,--so big and deep that the horses couldn't ford it any more. Then people built bridges over it, and this made the small river feel proud. Little boats sailed in it too,--canoes and sail boats and row boats. Sometimes they held a lot of little boys without any clothes on who jumped into the water and splashed and laughed and splashed and laughed.

At last the river was strong enough to carry great gliding boats, with deep deep voices. "Toot," said the boats, "tootoot-tooooooooot!"

And now the song of the river was low and slow as it answered the song of the boats:

"I grow and I flow As I carry the boats, As I carry the boats of men."

After the little river had been running down hill for ever so long, it came to a place where the banks went up very high and steep on each side of it. Here something strange happened. The little river was stopped by an enormous wall. The wall was made of stone and cement and it stretched right across the river from one bank to the other. The little river couldn't get through the wall, so it just filled up behind it. It filled and filled until it found that it had spread out into a real little lake. Only the people who walked around it called it a reservoir!

Now in the wall was just one opening down near the bottom. And what do you suppose that led to? A pipe! But the pipe was so big that an elephant could have walked down it swinging his trunk! Only, of course, there wasn't any elephant there.

Now the little river didn't like to have his race down hill stopped. So he began muttering to himself:

"What shall I do, oh, what shall I do?

Here's a big dam and I can't get through!

Behind the dam I fill and fill But I want to go running and running down hill!

If the pipe at the bottom will let me through I'll run through the pipe! That's what I'll do!"

So he rushed into the pipe as fast as he could for there he found he could run down hill again! He ran and he ran for miles and miles. Above him he knew there were green fields and trees and cows and horses. These were the things he had sung to before he rushed into the pipe. Then after a long time he knew he was under something different. He could feel thousands of feet scurrying this way and that; he could feel thousands of horses pulling carriages and wagons and trucks; he could feel cars, subways, engines;--he could feel so many things crossing him that he wondered they didn't all b.u.mp each other. Then he knew he was under the Big City. And this is the song he shouted then:

"Way under the street, street, street, I feel the feet, feet, feet.

I feel their beat, beat, beat, Above on the street, street, street."

And then again something queer happened. Every once in a while a pipe would go off from the big pipe. Now one of these pipes turned into a certain street and then a still smaller pipe turned off into a certain house and a still smaller pipe went right up between the walls of the house. And in this house there lived the dirty little boy.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

The water flowed into the street pipe and then it flowed into the house pipe and then,--what do you think?--it went right up that pipe between the walls of the house! For you see even the top of that dirty little boy's house isn't nearly as high as the reservoir on the hill where the water started and the water can run up just as high as it has run down.

In the bath-room was the dirty little boy. His face was dirty, his hands were dirty, his feet were dirty and his knees--oh! his knees were very, very dirty. This very dirty little boy went over to the faucet and slowly turned it. Out came the water splashing, and crashing and dashing.

"My! but I need a bath tonight," said the dirty little boy as he heard the water splashing in the tub. The water was still the singing water that had sung all the way from the far-away hills. It had sung a bubbling song when it gurgled up as a spring; it had sung a tinkling song as it rippled down hill as a brook; it had crooned a flowing song when it bore the talking boats; it had muttered and throbbed and sung to itself as it ran through the big, big pipe. Now as it splashed into the dirty little boy's tub it laughed and sang this last song:

"I run from the hill,--down, down, down, Under the streets of the town, town, town, Then in the pipe, up, up, up, I tumble right into your tub, tub, tub."

And the dirty little boy laughed and jumped into the Singing Water!

THE CHILDREN'S NEW DRESSES

An old pattern with new content. The steps in the process were originally dug out by a child of six through his own questions.

THE CHILDREN'S NEW DRESSES

Once there was a small town. In the small town were many houses and in the houses were many people. In one of these houses there lived a mother with a great many children. One night after the children were all in bed and the mother was sitting by the fire, a brick fell down the chimney.

Then another came b.u.mping and rattling down. Now outside there was a great wind blowing. It whistled down the chimney and up flamed the fire.

The sparks flew into the hole where the bricks had fallen out. The first thing the mother knew the house was all on fire. Still the great wind roared. The house next door caught fire, then the next, then the next, then the next, until half the little town was burning. The mother with the many children and many other frightened people ran to the part of the town behind the great wind. And there they stayed until the wind died down and they could put the fire out.