"Rub-a-dub, dub! Rub-a-dub, dub!" he pounded gaily now as he swung along at the head of his gallant forces.
"I don't think generals play drums," David Spellman had said doubtfully, when Sunny Boy first organized his army.
"Well, I'm going to play mine," Sunny Boy had retorted firmly. "Daddy says when you're short of help a man has to do two people's work. I can play my drum and be general, too."
"Halt!"
Sunny Boy issued his order so quickly that the army was startled and stepped on one another's heels as they came to a standstill.
"This square's a good place to drill," he explained. "I'll see how well you know the man'l of arms."
Sunny Boy meant the manual of arms, and his idea of army drill, gleaned from the talk of his father and one or two older cousins, wasn't very clear; but then, his army didn't know much about it either, so his authority wasn't questioned.
"Column right!" said Sunny Boy.
The army obediently turned to the right.
"Ruth, don't you know which is your right?" demanded Sunny Boy severely.