By the time the ant’s uncle got back to his house he found more than a hundred ants of all kinds walking up and down and carrying all kinds of provisions.
“You are very late,” said the ant’s aunt. “What did you do about the swing, Benjamin? Did you stop and see the spider about it?”
Benjamin had forgotten all about the swing, so he had to go back to where the spider kept a shop, and he came back after a while with a wheelbarrow loaded down with rope. The ant’s aunt was lame, and she had to walk with a cane. She was at the head of the picnic party and Benjamin, the ant’s uncle, came last of all with his wheelbarrow filled with rope and baskets and sugar and lemons and tubs and glasses and everything which might be used on a picnic. The ants went to Deacon Jones’ woods, and as they got nearer, they heard all kinds of strange noises. All the animals and all the birds came out to see the picnic go by. The ants walked on until they came to a bare spot in the middle of the woods, and there they stopped and put down their bundles and baskets.
“This will be a nice place to set the table,” said the ant’s aunt. “Now, Benjamin, while I am doing all the work, suppose you go and put up the swing for the children.”
Uncle Ant and his wheelbarrow.
The ant’s uncle said something underneath his breath and then he took the rope and the boards and things and put up 153 swings. He hurt his knee and sprained his back and cut his fingers. He also stubbed his toes.
“You needn’t feel so badly about hurting your toes,” said a centipede, who stopped to look, “suppose you had toes on 100 feet to stub, then you could afford to talk.”