"A little while ago
Mirabell was pulling me along the sidewalk with a string. Then she left
me and the dog ran off with me. Then he left me, and the boys carried me
off on the raft. Now they have left me. I wonder who will take me next?"
The raft was smooth in places, and the Lamb was just going to start to
roll along a board toward shore when, all at once, she heard a noise,
and a voice cried:
"Whoa!"
"My goodness!" thought the Lamb, coming to a stop almost as soon as she
had started along on her wheels, "what's that? I wonder if some one is
driving the White Rocking Horse along here!"
She looked through the weeds growing on the edge of the brook and saw a
real horse and wagon and a real man driving down to the water through
the vacant lot. And as the man was real the Lamb dared not move while he
was in sight.
"Whoa!" called the real man, and it was to his real horse he was
speaking, and not to the White Rocking Horse. "Whoa now, Dobbin!" went
on the man, "and I'll let you have a drink here if the water is clean. I
know you are thirsty, and there is a brook here somewhere.
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