“Honk! Honk!” cried the leader again. He seemed to be dashing straight toward the bubble. [Illustration: 0015] “I'd get out of the way if I could--” began Bobbie once more. “Certainly, certainly,” the goose interrupted rudely, “but there's no occasion. Don't you think we've made this trip often enough not to run into things?” “But you honked,” said Bobbie, as the goose flapped his great wing within a feather's breadth of the bubble. [Illustration: 0016] “Why have a danger signal if you don't use it?” answered the goose, craning his head back over his wing; and in a moment nearly the whole flock had skimmed past and were honking away again, though there was nothing in the sky that Bobbie could see. “What are they honking at now?” he cried to an old goose, straggling behind. “That rooster on the weather vane,” said the goose. “It'd better look out. It's only two miles off.” And he went honking on after the others. Up soared the bubble, and Bobbie soon saw that the clouds now formed themselves into a long, crooked roadway lined with little houses and barns and windmills. Tiny cows grazed on the fleecy pink clouds, like cows in a meadow of pink and white clover. And, strange to say, what had looked like stars were buttercups--golden buttercups. Soon Bobbie sailed up close to a funny little farmer who was milking a cow. “Please, sir,” Bobbie called to him “will you tell me what country this is?” The little farmer turned around in such surprise that his stream of milk followed his glance, and came splashing against the side of the bubble. Bobbie held up his hands, for he was thirsty. But the bubble was like a big glass, with Bobbie on the inside and the milk on the outside--and not a drop came through. [Illustration: 0018] “Oh, whizaphats!” said Bobbie in disgust. “We don't put even goldfish in such a mean thing as this. At least we leave a hole in the top to put food in!” “Eh? What's that? I can't hear you,” said the little farmer in a squeaky voice. “Oh!” said Bobbie. “Oh! I was asking you what country this is.” “The Milky Way,” answered the little farmer. “This is where we make cheese and butter for his Beaming Majesty the Moon. I'm Chief Cheese Server,” he added proudly. Majesty! Was that jolly looking man in the moon, who'd winked at him so many times, a king? He didn't act very dignified. “Must be some relation to Old King Cole,” thought Bobbie. But before he had time to ask about this, up jumped the little farmer in such haste he overturned his milking stool, which rolled down perilously near the bubble. [Illustration: 0020] “Time to serve his Majesty!” he cried, and dashed into the house for his court costume. A second later he appeared wearing a wig and goatee like Uncle Sam's and carrying a big cheese on a gold plate. Behind him came a pretty little milkmaid with a glass of buttermilk. “Follow us,” the farmer called out to Bobbie, and the bubble bounced along after them. [Illustration: 0022]