“Did we hurt you?” asked Peter, hopping up quickly and pulling Grumpy to his feet.
“No!” puffed the Patchwork Girl, raising her head experimentally, “but I feel rather flat. Shake me up, boys, and then we’d better run.” So Grumpy took one of her arms and Peter the other and they shook with all their might. Scraps’ cotton stuffing was still damp from the rubber tree’s shower and her face had a wrinkled and rough-dry look but, quite cheerfully, she patted herself into shape. They had fallen on a flat gray beach and, leaning down to examine the soil, Peter discovered it was sand soap. Without stopping to discover anything more, they started to run along the shore of a deep blue lake. As the waves broke on the shore, they frothed and foamed beautifully and dancing soap bubbles formed and floated over the waves. At any other time Peter would have liked to stop and admire the view but, fearing pursuit, they all ran along as fast as they could. Cliffs of soap stone rose steeply in places and there seemed no way to cross the lake nor to escape from the slippery clutches of the Sultan of Suds. Finally rounding a large cliff, they came to an abandoned soap building. White soap bricks were lying about in orderly piles and stacked against the building itself were several huge slabs of soap, evidently intended for doors. Picking up one of the soap bricks, Peter hurled it into the lake and, as it floated jauntily off, threw his cap into the air.
“I have it!” cried Peter gaily. “This soap floats. We’ll drag one of the big pieces down to the edge of the lake and float across.”
It was hard work, for the slab they chose was both thick and heavy, but at last, after much pulling, tugging, grunting and pushing, they managed to launch their queer raft. Peter and Grumpy carried Scraps out so she would not get wet again, then, climbing carefully aboard themselves, sat down on the slippery surface. Peter had sensibly brought along a long bar of green soap and, using this as a pole, he pushed the raft out into the current.
“Good-bye to Suds!” yelled Scraps, as they slipped smoothly over the blue waters of the lake,
“Good-bye to soap and water, too,
Shampoozle, you’re a sham—shampooh!”
