That was some parade! The whole five of us marched up and down Main Street looking as sober as we could, Pee-wee strutting along at the head of the line and every now and then getting his feet tangled up with the edge of the big frames, and stumbling all over himself.
"Don't laugh," I said; "every one of us is as bad as another, if not worse; keep a straight face and march in step; the public is with us."
Oh, boy, you ought to have seen the people laugh. I guess mostly they laughed because we kept such straight faces, except when Pee-wee stumbled all over himself; then we had to howl. Everybody stopped and stared at us and read the signs and laughed.
Pretty soon we passed an automobile full of girls that was standing in front of a store. They were camp-fire girls, because they had on khaki middies or whatever you call them with kind of, you know, braid things like snakes around their necks. One of them had a banner that said Camp Smile Awhile.
Pee-wee turned around and whispered, "Did you see that girl smile when she looked at me?"
"Smile!" I said, "that's nothing; the first time I ever saw you I laughed out loud. Keep your eyes straight ahead and look pretty—as if you were posing for animal crackers."
When we got to the corner, Pee-wee turned around and marched back, just because he wanted to pass those girls again. He made himself as tall as he could, so as he wouldn't trip over the placards. Honest, he looked just like a turtle standing up on its hind legs and waddling along and poking its head around this way and that.
"Don't laugh," he said, just as we passed the girls.
"Oh, isn't he just too cute for anything!" one of them said.
"Isn't he just a little dear!" another one said.