“But how about your tail?” Bulka asked.
“My tail can very well look after itself,” Poor Cecco replied. “Besides, if we stay here the others will want to play at hospital, and that I can’t stand. Do you remember the last time Tubby had measles and Virginia pinned the bedclothes on her to keep them tidy?”
Of course Bulka remembered. The pin had gone right into Tubby’s middle, and Virginia was quite annoyed because she had to pull it out again.
“This time,” Poor Cecco said, “we’ll give them something that won’t matter, to practise on!”
So he fetched a stick of firewood from the box in the kitchen. They put it in the doll’s cradle and pulled the covers up close, and it looked quite like a real wooden person lying there.
No one was astir in the house. Outside on the doorstep Murrum, returned from his wanderings, was sniffing round the milk-bottles. He gave Poor Cecco a surly look.
“Now we know where the milk goes!” jeered Poor Cecco.
But he had to dodge quickly down the steps and round the rain-water butt. Lucky for him that Murrum was feeling stuff and drowsy!
The road stretched out, like a great ribbon reaching to the ends of the world. The sun shone down, and all the grass blades had gleaming tips. It was a fine day to set out for adventures. Presently a man overtook them, driving a wagon piled high with hay.
