Unbeknown to Alphonse, the frogs belonged to the Frog Band, who were due to play on the sea-front. As Alphonse pedalled into the distance, they picked themselves up and went on their way, muttering dire threats if they ever saw the French frog again – “I’ll clash him between my cymbals – I’ll give him such a trumpeting – You wait, I’ll cornet him.”
He looked at his map and set off, wondering, as he wobbled along on the wrong side of the road, why everyone was shouting at him. As he swung round a corner, a lorry-load of frogs swerved to avoid him and landed up in a fruit-barrow. Alphonse pedalled swiftly on, leaving the angry frogs behind.