Then choosing some sticks--very carefully, for they must be straight--he
tucked the boat under his arm and, with the three children close at his
heels, walked over to the pond and sat down under the Crying Tree, where
the sun shone bright and warm.

Out came the magic knife and he whittled away at the little sticks;
whittled and whistled and smiled all the time.

Sliver after sliver of the wood fell on the ground. Sometimes one would
drop into the water and float away like a fairy canoe, with the green
willow leaves that fell from the Crying Tree.

So under the magic knife the little ship grew and grew, till the masts were
fitted too, and set fast and tight in the clean smooth deck.

"But where are the sails?" asked Jehosophat impatiently.

A funny answer the Toyman made.

He just said:

"Hold your horses, Sonny."

The teacher in the Red Schoolhouse up the road would have reproved him
for this, but the children thought whatever the Toyman said was all right.

Of course he meant not to be too impatient and--but just then the dinner
horn sounded, way out over the pond and over the fields, and the children
ran into the house, just as you would have done too.