They were half way across the sudsy lake before any of the Suds themselves appeared. Then a whole company of them rushed down to the shore. Peter waved his cap cheerfully and, redoubling his efforts with the soap bar, pushed their raft toward the opposite bank.
“I’m afraid we’ve wasted a lot of time,” puffed Peter, as the raft slid in toward the beach.
“Never mind,” grinned Scraps, “we’ve something new to talk about. I’m glad we met the Suds, Peter.”
“Humph!” sniffed Grumpy, balancing himself carefully. “I’m glad they met us. Now they’ll have something new to talk about, something worth while.” Peter chuckled a little at this and, seizing Scraps’ hands, helped her to rise, for little waves were rippling aboard and he did not want the Patchwork Girl to fade or shrink. But without any accidents or spills the raft washed up on the beach and they all jumped off.
“Do you think you still know which direction to take?” asked Peter anxiously.
“Which direction to take, which direction to take,
I lost my direction out there in the lake!
We’ll have to start on and just trust to good luck;
What kind of a desert is this we have struck?”
Throwing up her arms, Scraps looked around in dismay.