Rosie rolled up her stockings and sat on her makeshift boat. She edged it out towards the river, which ran slow over the bank, and managed to get it floating. She seized a stick from the water and started to paddle, laughing. She paddled further and further from the bank, feeling as daring as Peter.
Suddenly, a current snatched her up. She went spinning towards the middle of the river. She stopped laughing. Suddenly it wasn’t so fun anymore. She clung to the flimsy wood plank, abandoning her oar-stick. The rising wind tugged at her “sail”, and wrenched the “mast” out of its moorings. The entire rig flew several feet before landing in the river again. Rosie was now in the very center of the river, and picking up speed. The water threatened to overturn her board at any moment. She knew how to swim, but she suddenly thought she couldn’t swim in the river’s current.
Rosie screamed.
Passerby were starting to gather, watching the child’s plight with bated breath. Suddenly someone pointed and gave a shout.