"The Martian V.F.W."
Mr. Cruthers was amused. "Those sure are the craziest outfits I've ever seen," he chuckled. "Where'd you get them? Walt Disney make them for you?" He followed his own little joke with a long throaty laugh.
The ant was impatient. "About the parade, Mr. Cruthers, there isn't much time."
"Oh, yes, the parade. Well, let me see," he thumbed through the clipboard, "I guess there's always room for a few laughs. How many in your group?"
"One hundred and fifty. And we also have a float with us. Not a very large one. It measures twenty by twenty."
"Tell you what. You move your group to the corner of Thompson Street and Third Street. Get behind the Tiffany float and follow them, okay?"
The ant paused a moment to record the instructions in his mind. Then he turned to leave.
"Oh, wait a minute," Mr. Cruthers cried before the ant could rejoin his group. "Just who did you speak to at the National Academy of Sciences?"
"I believe it was a Mr. Canfield."
Mr. Cruthers' face lit up. "Well, why didn't you say so in the first place! I'd have placed you right away."