“But I don’t,” admitted Laddie.  “I made up the riddle, but I don’t know what the answer is.  If some of you could think of a good answer it would be a good riddle.”

“Yes, I guess it would,” agreed Mrs. Bunker.  “This is the time you didn’t think of a good one, Laddie.  A riddle isn’t much good unless some one knows the answer.”

Perhaps some of you who are reading this story can tell the answer.

Down on the beach went the six little Bunkers.  There was a bright moon shining and here and there were other parties of children and young people, some going to have marshmallow roasts also, and some who only came down to look at the ocean shining under the silver moon.

Mun Bun and Margy, with Violet and Laddie, raced about in the sand, while Russ and Rose helped their father and Cousin Tom gather driftwood for the fire.  There was plenty of it, and it was dry, for it had been in the hot sun all day.

“What makes the sand so sandy?” asked Vi, as she sat down beside her mother and Cousin Ruth and let some of the “beach dust,” as Daddy Bunker sometimes called it, run through her fingers.

“That’s a hard question to answer,” laughed Mother Bunker.  “You might as well ask what makes the moon so shiny.”

“Or what makes the water so wet,” added Cousin Ruth.  “Oh, you are such a funny little girl, Violet!”

“What makes me?” asked Vi.

“I suppose one reason is that you ask so many funny questions,” said Cousin Ruth.  “But there, Daddy has lighted the fire, and we can soon begin to roast the marshmallows.”

On the beach, near Russ and Rose, where they were standing with their father and Cousin Tom, a cheerful blaze sprang up.  It looked very pretty in the moonlight night, with the sparkling sea out beyond.

“Can we roast ’em now?” asked Laddie, as he got ready one of the long, pointed sticks.

“Not quite yet,” said his father.  “Better to wait until the fire makes a lot of red-hot coals, or embers of wood.  Then we can hold our candies over them and they will not get burned or blackened by the blaze.  Wait a bit.”

So they sat about the fire, while Daddy Bunker and Cousin Tom piled on more wood.  The boxes of the candies had been opened, so they would be all ready, and each of the ten Bunkers had a long, sharp-pointed stick to use as a toasting-fork.

“I guess we are ready now,” said Daddy Bunker, after they had listened to a jolly song sung by another party of marshmallow roasters farther down the beach.  “There are plenty of hot embers now.”

Cousin Tom poked aside the blazing pieces of driftwood and underneath were the hot, glowing embers.

“Now each one put a candy on a stick and hold the marshmallow over the embers,” said Daddy Bunker.  “Don’t hold it still, but turn it around.  This is just the same as shaking corn when you pop it, or turning bread over when you toast it.  By turning the marshmallow it will not burn so quickly.”