However, it became plain he would need to keep his hunger in check for a while longer, because from down the path there suddenly appeared an attractive woman with a bob haircut and wearing bell bottomed pants, wielding a guitar. The notes emanating out of her instrument, along with the crystal clear melody issuing from her vocal chords, began outsounding the dying chimes of the ice cream truck. "Sing..." crooned the artist "sing a song... sing out loud... sing out stro-o-ng!"
The children, upon whom the strains of music had an almost magical effect, were fast becoming uninterested in their frozen desserts. Half eaten cones and pops were chucked into strategically placed garbage cans lining the well-manicured grounds. Their shoulders swaying rythmically back and forth, fingers snapping, they slowly gravitated towards the singer as though she were the pied piper, softly humming the tune in tandem with her. "Sing of good things, not bad...". Salinger found himself surrounded by more and more boys and girls, crowding him forward along the path. The entire troupe came to a stop and realligned itself several yards in front of the enchanting minstrel, their heads still bobbing from side to side enthusistically, hands clapping joyfully in time with her vocalization. Soon, the mobile microphone was passed over to one of the rhapsodized youngsters, who eagerly filled in for the performing woman: "To last your who-ole life long!" Salinger's shoulders and hips seemed to take on a life of their own, and he caught himself twisting and turning almost as ardently as his junior counterparts. When the mike was ultimately handed to him for the chorus, he felt a tear roll down his cheek. "La la la la la la, la la la la la la..." sang everyone.