“See how it rocks?” Dorry said. “I bet it’s good and breezy up there.”
“Why don’t the others rock?” Hunt asked.
“Search me,” I said.
“There’s nothing on either side of that one at the top,” Westy said. “There isn’t even much of the wheel up there to break the force of the wind.”
“Correct,” I said. “Take two credits—and one cookie. Here.”
“There isn’t any such thing as the top of a wheel,” Dorry said.
“Sure there is,” I told him; “the part that’s at the top is the top.”
“The part that’s at the top of what?” he came back at me.
“I should worry,” I said. “Don’t you think I’ve got wheels enough in my head without bothering about a ferris-wheel?”
So then we all started singing that crazy song that we used to sing when we were being hauled all over the country in our camp on wheels: