"Never mind that - do as I say! Struggle! If you were to walk into the crate without resisting, Zuckerman might think you were bewitched. He’d be scared to go to the Fair."
Templeton poked his head up through the straw. "Struggle if you must," said he, "but kindly remember that I’m hiding down here in this crate and I don’t want to be stepped on, or kicked in the face, or pummeled, or crushed in any way, or squashed, or buffeted about, or bruised, or lacerated, or scarred, or biffed. Just watch what you’re doing, Mr. Radiant, when they get shoving you in!"
"Be quiet, Templeton!" said the sheep. "Pull in your head they’re coming. Look radiant, Wilbur! Lay low, Charlotte! Talk it up, geese!"
The truck backed slowly to the pigpen and stopped. Mr. Arable cut the motor, got out, walked around to the rear, and lowered the tailgate. The geese cheered. Mrs. Arable got out of the truck. Fern and Avery jumped to the ground. Mrs. Zuckerman came walking down from the house. Everybody lined up at the fence and stood for a moment admiring Wilbur and the beautiful green crate. Nobody realized that the crate already contained a rat and a spider.
"That’s some pig!" said Mrs. Arable.
"He’s terrific," said Lurvy.
"He’s very radiant," said Fern, remembering the day he was born.
"Well," said Mrs. Zuckerman, "he’s clean, anyway. The buttermilk certainly helped."
Mr. Arable studied Wilbur carefully. "Yes, he’s a wonderful pig," he said. "It’s hard to believe that he was the runt of the litter. You’ll get some extra good ham and bacon, Homer, when it comes time to kill that pig."
Wilbur heard these words and his heart almost stopped. "I think I’m going to faint," he whispered to the old sheep, who was watching.
"Kneel down!" whispered the old sheep. "Let the blood rush to your head!"
Wilbur sank to his knees, all radiance gone. His eyes closed.
"Look!" screamed Fern. "He’s fading away!"
"Hey, watch me!" yelled Avery, crawling on all fours into the crate. "I’m a pig! I’m a pig!"
Avery’s foot touched Templeton under the straw. "What a mess!" thought the rat. "What fantastic creatures boys are! Why did I let myself in for this?"
The geese saw Avery in the crate and cheered.
"Avery, you get out of that crate this instant!" commanded his mother. "What do you think you are?"
"I’m a pig!" cried Avery, tossing handfuls of straw into the air. "Oink, oink, oink!"
"The truck is rolling away, Papa," said Fern.
The truck, with no one at the wheel, had started to roll downhill. Mr. Arable dashed to the driver’s seat and pulled on the emergency brake. The truck stopped. The geese cheered. Charlotte crouched and made herself as small as possible in the knothole, so Avery wouldn’t see her.
"Come out at once!" cried Mrs. Arable. Avery crawled out of the crate on hands and knees, making faces at Wilbur. Wilbur fainted away.
"The pig has passed out," said Mrs. Zuckerman. "Throw water on him!"
"Throw buttermilk!" suggested Avery.
The geese cheered.
Lurvy ran for a pail of water. Fern climbed into the pen and knelt by Wilbur’s side.
"It’s sunstroke," said Zuckerman. "The heat is too much for him."
"Maybe he’s dead," said Avery.
"Come out of that pigpen immediately!" cried Mrs. Arable. Avery obeyed his mother and climbed into the back of the truck so he could see better. Lurvy returned with cold water and dashed it on Wilbur.
"Throw some on me!" cried Avery. "I’m hot, too."
"Oh, keep quiet!" hollered Fern. "Keep qui-ut!" Her eyes were brimming with tears.
Wilbur, feeling the cold water, came to. He rose slowly to his feet, while the geese cheered.
"He’s up!" said Mr. Arable. "I guess there’s nothing wrong with him."
"I’m hungry," said Avery. "I want a candied apple."
"Wilbur’s all right now," said Fern. "We can start. I want to take a ride in the Ferris wheel."
Mr. Zuckerman and Mr. Arable and Lurvy grabbed the pig and pushed him headfirst toward the crate. Wilbur began to struggle.
The harder the men pushed, the harder he held back. Avery jumped down and joined the men. Wilbur kicked and thrashed and grunted.
"Nothing wrong with this pig," said Mr. Zuckerman cheerfully, pressing his knee against Wilbur’s behind. "All together, now, boys! Shove!"
With a final heave they jammed him into the crate. The geese cheered. Lurvy nailed some boards across the end, so Wilbur couldn’t back out. Then, using all their strength, the men picked up the crate and heaved it aboard the truck. They did not know that under the straw was a rat, and inside a knothole was a big grey spider. They saw only a pig.
"Everybody in!" called Mr. Arable. He started the motor. The ladies climbed in beside him. Mr. Zuckerman and Lurvy and Fern and Avery rode in back, hanging onto the sideboards. The truck began to move ahead. The geese cheered. The children answered their cheer, and away went everybody to the Fair.
CHAPTER 17
Uncle
When they pulled into the Fair Grounds, they could hear music and see the Ferris wheel turning in the sky. They could smell the dust of the race track where the sprinkling cart had moistened it; and they could smell hamburgers frying and see balloons aloft. They could hear sheep blatting in their pens. An enormous voice over the loudspeaker said: "Attention, please!
Will the owner of a Pontiac car, license number H-2439, please move your car away from the fireworks shed!"
"Can I have some money?" asked Fern.
"Can I, too?" asked Avery.
"I’m going to win a doll by spinning a wheel and it will stop at the right number," said Fern.
"I’m going to steer a jet plane and make it bump into another one."
"Can I have a balloon?" asked Fern.
"Can I have a frozen custard and a cheeseburger and some raspberry soda pop?" asked Avery.
"You children be quiet till we get the pig unloaded," said Mrs. Arable.
"Let’s let the children go off by themselves," suggested Mr. Arable. "The Fair only comes once a year." Mr. Arable gave Fern two quarters and two dimes. He gave Avery five dimes and four nickels. "Now run along!" he said. "And remember, the money has to last all day. Don’t spend it all the first few minutes. And be back here at the truck at noontime so we can all have lunch together. And don’t eat a lot of stuff that’s going to make you sick to your stomachs."
"And if you go in those swings," said Mrs. Arable, you hang on tight! You hang on very tight. Hear me?"
"And don’t get lost! " said Mrs. Zuckerman.
"And don’t get dirty!"
"Don’t get overheated!" said their mother.
"Watch out for pickpockets!" cautioned their father.
"And don’t cross the race track when the horses are coming!"
cried Mrs. Zuckerman.
The children grabbed each other by the hand and danced off in the direction of the merry-go-round, toward the wonderful music and the wonderful adventure and the wonderful excitement, into the wonderful midway where there would be no parents to guard them and guide them, and where they could be happy and free and do as they pleased. Mrs. Arable stood quietly and watched them go. Then she sighed. Then she blew her nose.
"Do you really think it’s all right?" she asked.
"Well, they’ve got to grow up some time," said Mr. Arable.
"And a fair is a good place to start, I guess."
While Wilbur was being unloaded and taken out of his crate and into his new pigpen, crowds gathered to watch. They stared at the sign ZUCKERMAN’S FAMOUS PIG. Wilbur stared back and tried to look extra good. He was pleased with his new home. The pen was grassy, and it was shaded from the sun by a shed roof.