"Why, we're going to get a tree for Scrubby," they all answered.
"Well, what kind of a tree?—and where?"
That was a poser. None of them had thought so far as that. At last, Minx said:
"Why, any kind—somewhere."
"There are plenty of trees in France," said Française.
"Then that's the place for us to go," said Jumping Jack; and at once they raced off to the end of the garden, on their way to France.
"This aint the way, after all," Minx said, when they got to the fence. "The world comes to an end just over there. I got up on the fence one day, and there was nothing beyond but a great, deep hole."
"There's no use going off this other way," Spot put in, "for there's nothing over there but a big lot of water with a mill standing by it. I was over there one day."
"Then that is our way," said the French lady, decisively. "That is the ocean. I know they brought me across the ocean, and I was awfully sick all the way."
That last rather discouraged them, for nobody wanted to get awfully sick if there was any other way to find Scrubby's tree; so they concluded not to go to France.