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dog. He corrected himself; it looked like Bindlestiff.
And it accepted one of the frankfurters gratefully. Where is she, old fellow? The dog woofed once,
then darted away into the crowd. He tried to follow, but could not; he required more clearance. But he
was not downhearted; he had found the dog once, he would find him again. Besides, it had been at a
masked ball that he had first met Martha, she a graceful Pierrette, he a fat Pierrot. They had watched the
dawn come up after the ball and before the sun had set again they had agreed to marry.
He watched the crowd for Pierrettes, sure somehow that the dog s mistress would costume so.
Everything about this fair made him think even more about Martha, if that were possible. How she had
traveled his territory with him, how it had been their habit to start out, anywhere, whenever a vacation
came along. Chuck the Duncan Hines guide and some bags in the car and be off. Martha . . . sitting
beside him with the open highway a broad ribbon before them . . . singing their road songAmerica the
Beautiful and keeping him on key: thine alabaster cities gleam, undimmed by human tears
Once she had said to him, while they were bowling along through where was it? The Black Hills? The
Ozarks? The Poconos? No matter. She had said, Johnny, you ll never be President and I ll never be
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First Lady, but I ll bet we know more about the United States than any President ever has. Those busy,
useful people never have time tosee it, not really.
It s a wonderful country, darling.
It is, it is indeed. I could spend all eternity just traveling around in it traveling in elephants, Johnny,
with you."
He had reached over and patted her knee; he remembered how it felt.
The revelers in the mock French Quarter were thinning out; they had drifted away while he daydreamed.
He stopped a red devil. Where is everyone going?
To the parade, of course.
The Big Parade?
Yes, it s forming now. The red devil moved on, he followed.
His own sleeve was plucked. Did you find her? It was Mrs. Evans, slightly disguised by a black
domino and clinging to the arm of a tall and elderly Uncle Sam.
Eh? Why, hello, Mrs. Evans! What do you mean?
Don t be silly. Did you find her?
How did you know I was looking for anyone?
Of course you were. Well, keep looking. We must go now. They trailed after the mob.
The Big Parade was already passing by the time he reached its route. It did not matter, there was
endlessly more to come. The Holly, Colorado, Boosters were passing; they were followed by the prize
Shiner drill team. Then came the Veiled Prophet of Khorassan and his Queen of Love and Beauty, up
from their cave in the bottom of the Mississippi . . . the Anniversary Day Parade from Brooklyn, with the
school children carrying little American flags . . . the Rose Parade from Pasadena, miles of
flowered-covered floats . . . the Indian Powwow from Flagstaff, twenty-two nations represented and no
buck in the march wearing less than a thousand dollars worth of hand-wrought jewelry. After the
indigenous Americans rode Buffalo Bill, goatee jutting out and hat in hand, locks flowing in the breeze.
Then was the delegation from Hawaii with King Kamehamela himself playing Alii, Lord of Carnival, with
royal abandon, while his subjects in dew-fresh leis pranced behind him, giving aloha to all.
There was no end. Square dancers from Ojai and from upstate New York, dames and gentlemen from
Annapolis, the Cuero, Texas, Turkey Trot, all the Krewes and marching clubs of old New Orleans,
double flambeaux blazing, nobles throwing favors to the crowd the King of Zulus and his smooth
brown court, singing: Everybody who was anybody doubted it
And the Mummers came, taking a suit up the street toOh Dem Golden Slippers. Here was something
older than the country celebrating it, the shuffling jig of the masquers, a step that was young when
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