“All right,” Geoffrey said. “May we, Mother?”
“Oh, yes, if you don’t get too wet,” his mother said resignedly. “They can all swim, that’s a comfort.
“We’ll muster them,” said Geoffrey, bundling the animals into a heap. “Hand over that bird, Alison. I say, Mother, which came first, a fowl or an egg?”
Mrs. Hunt sighed.
“It isn’t mentioned,” she said. “Which do you think?”
“Fowl, I ’specs,” answered her son.
“I fink it was ve egg,” said Alison.
“How would it be hatched if it was, silly?” demanded her brother. “They didn’t have ink-ink-inklebaters then.”
Alison puckered her brows, and remained undefeated.
“P’raps Adam sat on it,” she suggested.