_Certainly alien children ought
to be fed ... but to human kids?_
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Worlds of If Science Fiction, July 1959.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
"Happy birthday to _you_," we all sang, except Gail, of course, who was
still screaming, though not as loud.
"Well, now," I said jovially, glancing nervously about at the other air
traffic, "what else can we all sing?" The singing seemed to be working
nicely. They had stopped swatting each other with their lunch boxes and
my experienced ear told me Gail was by this time forcing herself to
scream. This should be the prelude to giving up and enjoying herself.
"_Boing_ down in Texas in eighteen-ninety," Billy began, "Davy, _Davy_
Eisenhower...."
"A-B-_C-D_-E--" sang Jacob.
"Dere was a little 'elicopter red and blue," Meli chirped, "flew along
de air-ways--"
The rest came through unidentifiably.
"Ba-ba-ba," said a faint voice. Gail had given up. I longed for ears
in the back of my head because victory was mine and all I needed to do
was reinforce it with a little friendly conversation.
"Yes, dear?" I asked her encouragingly.
"Ba-ba-ba," was all I could make out.
"Yes, indeed. That Gail _likes_ to go to Playplace."
"Ba-ba-ba!" A little irritable. She was trying to say something
important. "_Ba-ba-ba!_"