"Here we go!" cried Russ at last, and he took his place in a chair in front of the big spinning wheel, the package of cookies beside him. The spinning wheel was the only part of the "steamboat" that really moved. It could be turned around in either direction, and was almost as large, and almost the same shape, as the big steering wheel on the big, real steamers. Of course it had no "spokes" on the outer rim to take hold of, but Russ did not need them. The spinning wheel was an old one that had belonged to Mrs. Bunker's great-grandmother, and though the children were allowed to play with it they were always told they must be very careful not to break it. And I must do them the credit to say that they were, nearly always, very careful.
"All aboard!" called Russ again, just as he had often heard the men on real boats say it. "Don't anybody fall off."
"I don't want to fall off till I gets my cookie," remarked Mun Bun.
"And if we fall we don't have to fall as far as Russ does, 'cause he's so high up on a chair and we're low down, on little stools," added Margy.
"That's so!" laughed Russ, as he twisted the spinning wheel around, to make-believe steer the steamboat out into the middle of the pretend river.
Of course the steamboat did not move at all. It just remained in one place on the attic floor. But the six little Bunkers did not mind that. They pretended that they were steaming along, and, every once in a while, Russ would toot the whistle, or give some order such as might be given on a real boat.
"When are we goin' to eat?" asked Laddie, after a time, during which the boat had made make-believe stops at London, Paris and Asbury Park. "Can't I have a sugar cookie, Russ?"
"Yes, I guess it's time to eat now," agreed the older boy.
"Whoa, then!" cried Laddie.
"What are you saying 'whoa' for?" demanded Russ, looking around.