"Oh-h!" It seemed to Little-wee as though his mother was dreadfully slow in replying, "Well, let's see. I suppose we had better have a picnic."
"Oh! a picnic! Who said picnic!" interrupted Blacky-ears as he bounded in through the open door.
"You do startle me so when you jump at me that way, Blacky-ears," said Mother Grunty a trifle crossly.
"Never mind, Mumsie. I'm sorry—honest I am,—but where's the picnic?"
"Wait a minute, Blacky. We don't know yet. Mother was just saying we might have one on the Fourth of July," broke in Little-wee.
The arrival of the grocery cart cut short all plans, but they must have been discussed later, for at nine o'clock on the morning of the Fourth a well-packed lunch basket stood on Mother Grunty's kitchen table. And upstairs, with many gigglings and much wriggling, the Grunty family put on their picnic togs and prepared for a wonderful day.
When, at ten o'clock, the car that was to take them to the lake stopped at their corner, the three were hailed with many welcome shouts. For Mother Grunty and Mother Rooty, who were very good friends, had planned a real picnic party and had promised to care for thirty excited piglets.
Do you wonder that they laughingly told each other that they would have no idle minutes that day?
The ride in the open car was wonderfully cool and very pretty. At the first sight of the lake such a shout arose that the motorman turned quickly to see what the trouble could be. But when he saw the thirty happy, excited faces his shoulders shook with laughter as he said to himself, "Carried folks over this hill for twenty years now and never heard such a fuss over the sight of a little water!"
When the car was empty of the last little pig, and every basket, box and bundle had been carefully placed on a picnic table that stood near by, Mother Rooty took charge of all the hats while Mother Grunty arranged for some amusement.