“‘Isn’t this nicer than burros?’ whispered Merrylip.
“‘A thousand times nicer,’ whispered Winfred.
“‘And nicer than dinner at home with servants all about?’
“‘A thousand times nicer.’
“When they couldn’t eat any more, the old Mother went to sleep in her chair, and Winfred said good-by to Michael and went out.
“‘Where now?’ he asked Merrylip.
“‘Now the best of all,’ she answered.
“Down the road they went to a large field, where a grey burro was eating grass.
“‘Get on,’ said Merrylip. Winfred patted the burro on the nose, then climbed up. Away they went, much faster than burros usually travel, rushing across the fields till the wind hummed about Winfred’s ears like music. They galloped up across the hills and down into new grass valleys that Winfred had never seen before.
“‘Isn’t this nice?’ shouted Merrylip.