But when the ducks saw the barn-door raft sailing among them, they were
afraid, and, quacking loudly, they paddled out of the way.

"Oh, Bunny!" cried Sue, as they sailed along, "there's the little ducks
that were hatched out by the hen mother."

"So they are!" exclaimed the little boy. The little ducks were swimming
in the water, and the hen mother was clucking along shore. She would not
go in the water herself, but stayed as near to it as she dared, on
shore. Perhaps she wanted to make sure the little ducks would not
drown. Of course they would not, unless a big fish pulled them under
water, for ducks are made on purpose to swim. And there were no big fish
in the pond, only little minnows, about half as big as a lollypop stick.

"Oh, Bunny!" cried Sue, as she saw the hen mother watching the little
ducks paddle about, "Oh, Bunny, I know what we can do."

"What?"

"We can give the hen mamma a ride on our boat. Poor thing! She never can
go paddling or swimming with her family. Let's take her on our boat, and
she can sail with her little ducks then, and not get wet."

"That's what we'll do!" Bunny cried. "I'm glad you thought of it, Sue.
We'll give the old hen a sail, and the ducks can paddle around with us."

Bunny steered the raft over to the shore where the hen was clucking
away, calling to her ducklings to come to dry land. Perhaps she thought
they had been in bathing long enough.