A Whirlwind Vacation Read Online Free Page B

Katie said, proudly using the French word for thank you.
    As she sipped her soda, Katie looked out at the street. People were walking by. Mothers with strollers. Businesspeople with leather briefcases. A dog walker with six large dogs pulling her down the street.

    Vicki was right. It was fun to people-watch in Paris.
    Katie could see Notre Dame from her seat at the café. It didn’t look nearly as scary from here. In fact, it looked kind of pretty.
    A group of artists were seated across the street on small wooden folding chairs. Each artist had set up a small easel. Katie watched as their hands glided across their canvases. Some seemed to be using paint, while others were drawing with pencils. They were all looking up at Notre Dame as they worked.
    â€œThey’re painting the cathedral,” Katie said. “It looks like fun. Daddy, do you have a pen?”
    Mr. Carew pulled a pen from his shirt pocket. “Here you go,” he told her.
    Katie took the pen and began to draw on her napkin. She looked up at the cathedral and tried to get the points in the tower just right. It was really hard to do.
    Annabelle looked over to see what Katie was doing. “Oh, I want to try that, too,” Annabelle said.
    Mrs. Bridgeman pulled a pen from her purse and handed it to her daughter. Before long, both girls were busy drawing.
    Katie loved everything about Paris. It was such fun sitting at an outdoor café, drawing one of the most famous buildings in the whole world. She was speaking French (okay, so maybe she only knew a couple of words, but still ...), and she was about to eat a fromage sandwich on real French bread.
    Katie grinned broadly. It didn’t get better than this!

Chapter 8
    â€œMmm. That was good,” Mr. Bridgeman said as he finished the last of his french fries. “Anyone for another cup of coffee?”
    â€œThat sounds great,” Mrs. Carew agreed.
    Annabelle and Katie looked at each other and frowned. The girls were getting tired of sitting. Luckily, Annabelle had a better idea.
    â€œCan Katie and I go see what those artists are drawing?” Annabelle asked.
    â€œWell ...” Mrs. Bridgeman began slowly.
    â€œCome on, Mom. It’s just across the street,” Annabelle pleaded.
    â€œI guess it’s okay,” she said. Then she looked at Katie’s mother. “If it’s fine with you.”
    Mrs. Carew nodded. “Just be careful crossing the street. The people in Paris drive a lot faster than people in Cherrydale.”
    â€œOh, I can help her,” Annabelle boasted. “These drivers are nothing compared to the cab drivers in Boston.”
    Katie scowled. She did not need any help crossing the street.
    â€œAnd stay where we can see you,” Mr. Carew said.
    â€œI promise,” Katie agreed.
    â€œCome on,” Annabelle urged as she leaped up from the table and headed toward the crosswalk. “I want to see how good their paintings are.”

    Apparently, Annabelle did not think the paintings were very good at all. As she and Katie stood behind the artists, watching them work, Annabelle began to laugh.
    â€œMy drawing was better than these,” she said. “These don’t even look like Notre Dame.”

    â€œAnnabelle!” Katie exclaimed. “That’s not very nice.”
    â€œOh, don’t worry about it. They don’t even know what we’re saying,” Annabelle assured Katie. “They speak French, not English, remember?”
    Katie sighed. That didn’t make a difference. “Well, anyway, I don’t think these are supposed to look exactly like the cathedral.”
    â€œThey don’t look anything like it,” Annabelle insisted. “I did better art than this in kindergarten.”
    Katie was really glad the artists didn’t speak English. Their feelings would be hurt if they knew what Annabelle was actually saying.
    The girls moved behind the last artist in the row. He was