On rainy afternoons, the playhouse became a ship. The willow branches were sails, and the drumming rain on the tin roof was the sound of cannons from enemy frigates. Carrie would hold the chipped teacup like a spyglass and shout orders to her imaginary first mate, a brave mouse named Captain Biscuit.
Carrie was seven years old, and she had a secret. The secret lived at the bottom of her backyard, beneath the sprawling arms of an old willow tree. It was her playhouse. carries playhouse
In the morning, the movers came. They packed boxes and rolled up rugs. Carrie’s father hooked the trailer to the truck. No one said much about the playhouse. It was just an old shed, after all. On rainy afternoons, the playhouse became a ship