When it had quite done, it reflected--or seemed to reflect; perhaps it had fallen asleep--until the town clock struck one, the time for resuming work.

Then it got up and slouched towards its machine.
'Cucumbers,' it said, and began to turn the handle of its wheel.

They had to wait till tea-time to ask it what it meant, for in that town the rule about not speaking to the man at the wheel was strictly enforced.
'Cucumbers,' the Sloth repeated, and added a careful explanation.

'You sit on the end of any young cucumber which points in the desired direction, and when it has grown to its full length--say sixteen inches--why, then you are sixteen inches on your way.' 'But that's not much,' said Lucy.
'Every little helps,' said the Sloth; 'more haste less speed.

Then you wait till the cucumber seeds, and, when the new plants grow, you select the earliest cucumber that points in the desired direction and take your seat on it.