called:

"Here I am! See, right down here!"

But will you believe it, now? The driver didn't look at him.
Perhaps the lazy clamor of the wagon and the hissing sound of
the steadily gushing water made too big a noise for the voice of
such a little boy to be heard.

Do you call that any way for the street-sprinkler man to act? But
of course there might be some good reason for such criminal
behavior. David remembered that he hadn't consulted any fairy
godmother about it; long since he would have done so, only he
could never catch any fairy godmothers hanging around. They were
always busy somewhere else. Even Mother herself had failed to
introduce him to any competent, respectable fairy godmothers. She
was all right on telling about them; she was strong on that, but
somehow they never seemed to know when they were wanted. That is
their great fault; they are so unreliable. Once let them get
loose from a Cinderella book, and their business system is
always defective.

How, then, can a little boy expect to accomplish any miracles
like riding on the street-sprinkler? It is not reasonable; David
himself decided that it wasn't, and he concluded to try something
more feasible, something that looked simple and easy and more
natural. Next time he would do better. Why shouldn't he? When one
is four years old, nearly anything ought to be possible. All he
had to do was to await another opportunity, and then pounce down
on it.