Put a bean on to boil, Mr. Cook!
For an army, it must eat
And rest its weary feet;
So put on a bean, Mr. Cook!
The Teenie Weenie soldiers sang this song as they sat about their tiny camp fire one evening shortly after the peace dance. They were all happy, for they were to start for home in the morning. The Sailor was now well enough to stand the long trip and that was all that had been holding them back.
“He can stand the trip,” the Doctor said, “if he is carried in some way that will not jolt him. He was badly wounded and I wouldn’t care to have him ride in one of the army wagons, as they are much too rough.”
“We can make a litter and get two mice to carry it,” suggested Tess Bone.
“That’s a good idea,” said the Doctor. “He will rest that way in fine shape.”
The Turk and the Old Soldier agreed to make the litter and in a short time they had built such a cozy one the Sailor was quite pleased with it.
“Crickety!” exclaimed the Dunce when he saw the litter, “I wish I was wounded so I could ride in that instead of walkin’ all the way home.”