Pip padded across the yard with a little spring in his step, his straw hat flopping over one ear. He had been hoping for a job all morning. Not a make-believe job. A real one.
Near the long shed with the rust-red roof, he found one.
A hay cart was stuck half off the shed ramp, its back wheels still on the wood and its front dipped low. Golden hay poked out in all directions, and the whole cart leaned toward the feed bins below. The feed bins were where supper for the animals was kept, and if the hay cart slid any farther, it could spill the hay right on top of them.
Tamsin, the goose keeper, stood with her muddy boots planted wide. “Don’t rush at it!” she called, then waved both arms as if she could hold the cart up by warning it. “It only needs one wrong push.”
Pip stopped short. He wanted to hurry over and grab the side, because that would look useful. But the cart wobbled when the wind brushed the hay, and he could see the feed bins tucked right underneath its lean. This was not a pretend job at all. This was a real farm job, and it was sitting over the supper.
From farther down the yard, Jori, the old scarecrow maker, lifted his head. “Careful,” he said softly, already eyeing the cart like he might try to improve it with a knot or a brace.
Pip looked at the ramp, the leaning wheels, and the bins below. He was close enough now to see exactly how tricky it was. If he helped the wrong way, the cart might tip. If he did nothing, supper could be trapped under it. He had to decide how to help without making the trouble worse.
What happens next?
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