“In the Village of Hat Pins that the wind nearly blew away forever,” said Hatrack the Horse.
And Peter Potato Blossom Wishes skipped away down from the little red shanty, skipped down the street, and then began walking slow saying to herself, “I love Hatrack the Horse like a grand uncle—his eyes look like lightning bugs lighting up the summer night coming out of two little doors.”
How Six Pigeons Came Back to Hatrack the Horse After Many Accidents and Six Telegrams
Six crooked ladders stood against the front of the shanty where Hatrack the Horse lived.
Yellow roses all on fire were climbing up and down the ladders, up and down and crossways.
And leaning out on both sides from the crooked ladders were vines of yellow roses, leaning, curving, nearly falling.
Hatrack the Horse was waiting. This was the morning Wiffle the Chick was coming.
“Sit here on the cracker box and listen,” he said to her when she came; “listen and you will hear the roses saying, ‘This is climbing time for all yellow roses and climbing time is the time to climb; how did we ever learn to climb only by climbing? Listen and you will hear—st..th..st..th..st..th..it is the feet of the yellow roses climbing up and down and leaning out and curving and nearly falling ..st..th..st..th..’”