Down a forest path come the pig, the squirrel, the hedgehog and the hen ""looking very smart""; waiting at the lake's edge is the bear, with a picnic basket, an extra straw hat for the pig, and -- ""after they had all said hello to each other"" -- a newly-made raft: on a freshly minted spring day, could there be a better start for a picnic? And all goes well, with something apt for everyone (acorns for the pig, dead beetles for the hedgehog, etc.) until, poling away from a noisy chorus of frogs, they go aground on a sandbank. No one can or will swim for help, but the frogs, hailed, pitch in to make an enormous wave. Afloat again, they welcome the frogs -- who welcome not their food but the flies attracted to it. Now, when the frogs stag their ""awrk, awrk"" song, the hen clucks, the hedgehog wheezes, the squirrel chatters, the pig snorts, the bear booms. Uncommonly fitting, with an edge of affability and no slack.