Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4 LET US GO BACK TO THE village. It was a grand sight to behold. Peter led a long line of villagers and ducks through the streets. They sang. They splashed in every puddle with their galoshes. ("Galoshes" is a fun and fancy word for rain boots. Try saying it. It's fun, right? Galoshes.) They twirled their umbrellas. The mayor wore his finest raincoat and his brightest rain hat and stood at the grandstand with several of the ducks, clapping and cheering for every umbrella that passed by. The mayor and the ducks had to judge the best umbrella, and it was very difficult because there were so many

wonderful umbrellas of every shape, size, and color. A small gust of wind picked up. It blew the mayor's brightest rain hat right off his head. One very thoughtful duck tried to fly over and pick up the mayor's hat, but an even stronger gust of wind flipped the poor duck this way and that. She landed in a puddle with a quack and a splash. "Oh dear!" said the mayor. "Hold on to your—"

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The mayor was going to say "umbrellas." He was going to tell everyone to hold on to their umbrellas, but before he could say "umbrellas," a superstrong gale of wind howled through the village and pulled umbrellas right out of villagers' hands. It flipped umbrellas inside out. Why, it even lifted one surprised villager right off her feet and would have carried her away if she had not quickly let go of her polka-dot umbrella! It got windier. And windier. And so windy that it "It's working!" said Baron Von Grump. "Flap harder, Edgar!" Edgar would have replied if he could have. He would have said, "Caw, caw!" which would have meant "How much longer do I have to keep flying in circles?" But he could not reply. He had a string held tightly in his

beak. That string was attached to a crank. That crank was attached to the giant wooden paddles of the old windmill. The harder he flapped, the harder he flew. The harder he flew, the faster the crank spun. The faster the crank spun, the faster the windmill paddles turned. And the faster the windmill paddles turned, the stronger the gusts of wind howled through the village, blowing hats off heads and umbrellas out of hands. However, hats and umbrellas were not what Baron Von Grump was trying to blow away. The rain clouds were. Each little spring rain cloud was being blown out of the village, pushed farther and farther away, until they were swept out entirely. They were pushed right out past the covered bridge, over the Gloomy Woods, and then, once they were far enough from the windmill, drifted toward the lake on their own.

With no clouds, there was no rain. With no rain, there was no reason for raincoats and umbrellas and certainly not for galoshes. The parade was over, the umbrella contest was canceled, and the villagers had no choice but to retreat to their homes. It was far too windy to stay outside without holding on very tight to something so that you did not blow away. The ducks couldn't even fly in this wind, and that made them very sad. "Quack," said a very sad duck. That means I wish it weren't so windy, in case you don't speak duck. Baron Von Grump listened. There was no plinking. There was no plunking. He slowly raised his eyes to the leaky windmill ceiling, but the leaks were gone. No drips or drops fell into his eye! "Just a bit more, Edgar!" he said. "Let's make sure those rain clouds are pushed far and away for good."