What is it?"

"What kind of a wheel doesn't go 'round?" asked Laddie again, smiling at
his brothers and sisters as though the riddle was a very hard one indeed.

"Pooh! _All_ wheels go around--'ceptin' _this_ one, maybe," said Russ.
"And this is only a make-believe wheel. It's the nearest like a steamboat
paddle-wheel I could find," and he gave the footstool a little kick. "But
all kinds of wheels go around, Laddie."

"No, they don't," exclaimed the little fellow. "That's a riddle! What kind
of a wheel doesn't go 'round?"

"Oh, let's give it up," proposed Rose. "Tell us, Laddie, and then we'll
get in the make-believe steamboat Russ has made, and we'll have a ride.
What kind of a wheel doesn't go around?"

"A wheelbarrow doesn't go 'round!" laughed Laddie.

"Oh, it does _so_!" cried Rose. "The _wheel_ goes around."

"But the _barrow_ doesn't--that's the part you put things in," went on
Laddie. "_That_ doesn't go 'round. You have to push it."

"All right. That's a pretty good riddle," said Russ with a laugh. "Now
let's get on the steamboat and we'll have a ride," and he began to whistle
a little bit of a new song, something about down on a river where the
cotton blossoms grow.

"Where is steamboat?" asked Margy, aged five, whose real name was