[alaklondewen]

In the branches of a tall oak on the bank of the Brandywine a small wren hopped playfully from branch to branch. Clear, merry voices could be heard coming from the river, so the little bird fluttered over to the outside of the tree to see what was happening. To his surprise, he saw eight upturned faces in a little boat. Their cheeks were rosy from the wind that blew their hairs and ruffled their curls.

Sitting in the front of the boat Ferd was immensely enjoying himself, and before he knew what he was doing he began to sing:

The river runs by field and tree;
And ducks float by on the water free.
Woodland creatures come down to drink,
At the river, at the river
Where little boats sink!

As he sang the last line, Penny reached up and smacked him in the back of the head.

“Ouch!” He cried out grabbing his head melodramatically. Turning around he saw seven scowling faces. “Sorry, sorry.” He put his hands up as a sign of surrender. “I was just kidding.”