Miss Pickerell clapped her left hand firmly on top of her hat, to keep it from falling off, and looked up at the huge Ferris wheel turning slowly against the bright blue sky. She watched it rolling back and up and over and down. Back and up and over and down. The seven children riding in the Ferris wheel screamed delightedly. Miss Pickerell waved up at them, with her free hand. “Just like a trip to Mars,” said the man in a yellow sweater who was running the Ferris wheel. “You’re really sure you don’t want to try it?” “My good man!” said Miss Pickerell. “I have told you six times already that I do not want to go up in your Ferris wheel.”