“No wonder we are hungry, then,” said Harry. “We all had our breakfasts at five, and that’s six hours ago.”
“And we’re nowhere near the berry-pasture yet,” said Rose, hesitating and looking around. “We ought to have been out of the woods long ago. Phil Howard, I know we took the wrong turn there by that old oak.”
The other children looked at one another in despair.
“Bet you we did!” cried Ray. “I kinder thought this didn’t look right. Now we’ve got to go back.”
“Don’t let’s,” said Harry. “If we take this path off this way, it will bring us back on to the road, I know.”
“And I say, don’t let’s go another step till we’ve had our grub.”
Phil gave his advice decidedly, “We can’t get to the pasture, anyway, till afternoon, and we might as well have our lunch first.”
“There’s the brook again,” exclaimed Cricket, catching sight of her old friend, the winding Kayuna, which meandered in every known direction.
“We can get some water there. I guess I’ll put on my waist now. It’s ’bout dry,” she added, as the mention of the brook brought her mishap to her mind.
A pretty little grassy opening just there afforded them a fine place to sit down for their lunch. Cricket took her pail and went up the brook after water, and presently returned, arrayed again in her pink cambric waist, which was very wrinkled and streaky as to the sleeves, and very damp and sticky as to the collar.