Back and forth, back and forth swung the arms of the Toyman. He was very busy over something—something very important it must be, for he never talked, only worked and whistled away.
"Oh dear! I wish I knew what it was," sighed Marmaduke. Anyway he knew it was something for them. Father Green had given the Toyman a holiday, all for himself, to do as he liked. And of course he'd make something for them.
On the edge of the table was a vise, a big tool with iron jaws. In the iron jaws was a block of wood. The Toyman screwed the vise—very tight—so tight the wood couldn't budge. Then he shaved this side of the block, then the other side, with a plane, a tool with a very sharp edge. Clean white shavings fell on the floor, some of them twisting like Hepzebiah's curls.
"I wonder what it's going to be," Marmaduke repeated.
Jehosophat was pretty sure he knew.
"I'll bet it's a boat," he said.
The Toyman chuckled.
"Right you are, Son. It's the Good Ship—well, let's see. All boats have a name, you know. What do you think would be a good name for a fine ship?"
Jehosophat had one, right on the tip of his tongue.
"The Arrow."