CHRISTMAS MORNINGEarly Christmas morning Peter awoke. He heard a noise in mother's room. So he knew that he might get up.He pushed open the door. "Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas!" he shouted."Merry Christmas," said mother, hugging him tightly."Merry Christmas," said father, tossing him up into the air. "Did you see Santa Claus last night?"Just then Polly ran in. "Oh, oh, it is Christmas!" she cried. "Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas! See what I found in my bed."It was a box of animal crackers. They were all sheep."O father! You did it for a joke. You know I do not like mutton."Peter ran to look in his room. He thought a joke might be there, too."See, see!" he shouted. "I have found a letter box. That is not a joke.""Look inside," said father.Peter looked. There he saw a very small pony. It was made of cloth. On its back it had a cloth monkey."A joke, a joke!" cried Polly. "Your pony came in your letter box after all."There were to be no more presents until after breakfast. So the children dressed quickly.It was hard for them to eat anything.At last Polly said, "I cannot wait another second. I will eat my breakfast with my dinner. Here comes grandmother. Now may we open the door and see the tree?""In just a minute," said father. "You say 'Merry Christmas' to grandmother. I have one last thing for the tree. You may come in when I call." And out he ran."I wonder what it is," said Polly. "I can hear him coming back through the side door."Then grandmother came in, and Polly forgot to wonder any more.At last they heard father shout, "Come!"Polly opened the door, and the children rushed in."Oh! Oh!" said Polly."Oh! Oh!" said Peter.Such a beautiful tree they had never before seen. It was hung with strings of popped corn and red cranberries. It was covered with colored balls and big gold stars. Over it was white, shiny stuff that looked like snow.It had candy bags and oranges. At the top, there was a doll with wings. And there were many boxes and packages."Oh! Oh! Oh!" said both children again."Do you like it?" asked mother."I never saw anything so pretty," said Polly. "Is that a fairy at the top?""I think it is Santa Claus's little girl," said Peter. "I should like to have her for my own.""Should you rather have that than anything else here?" asked father."I think so, father. May I?""Walk around the tree and see if you are sure, my son."Peter did as he was told. He had not taken many steps when he jumped back with a cry."What is it? What is it?" he asked.Polly ran forward, and what do you think she saw?On the other side of the tree something moved. Polly saw two large eyes, two long ears, a brown head, and then she knew that it was a pony."Peter, Peter!" she cried, "here is the pony! It is on the Christmas tree! O Peter, Peter, Peter!""Lead her out," said father. "She will come with you. She likes children."So Polly took hold of the little strap. And the pony walked out into the room after her."Her name is Brownie," said father. "She is grandmother's present to you and Peter. She is half yours and half Peter's.""O grandmother!" cried Polly. "I thank you now, but I will thank you better by and by.""Which half is mine, grandmother?" asked Peter."Half of both halves," said grandmother. "Why?""Nothing," said Peter. "I love both her halves. And I love you, too. And I love the tree, and Christmas, and everybody.""And so you should," said father. "Come now, we will take Brownie to her stable. Then you may get the presents off the tree."THE SNOW HOUSEOne day there was a heavy snowstorm. At the same time the wind blew. It heaped the snow over the road in front of Polly's house.The snow was so deep that horses could not walk through. Men had to dig the road out.Mr. Howe helped to do this. Peter and Polly watched the work. They thought it great fun.The men threw the snow by the side of the road. Soon the piles were very high. They were twice as high as Polly could reach.A few days after this Polly said, "I know what we can do.""What?" asked Peter."Let's play Eskimos.""How do you play it?" asked Peter."Well," said Polly, "first we must makea snow house. Then we can think of other things to do.""We can't," said Peter."Can't what?" asked Polly. "Can't think of things to do? I can, if you can't.""No," said Peter, "we can't make a snow house. We tried. It tumbled down. Don't you remember?""I've thought how to do it, Peter. Come on. I will show you."Polly took Peter to the great pile of snow by the side of the road."There is our house," she said. "It is all made for us.""That isn't any house, Polly. I think I won't play with you to-day. You tease me. I am going to see Tim. Good-by.""O Peter! Wait, wait! I won't tease. I will tell you about it now. That is our house really and truly. But it is just the outside."We must make a hole in the pile for a door. Then we must dig out the inside. Can't we do that, Peter?"Peter said, "Oh, yes. We can do that. I see about it now. I will help. We can dig very well."We dug our cyclone hole last summer.Perhaps we shall find another box with silver dollars in it.""Perhaps we shall not, too," said Polly. "I don't expect to find things in the snow. People hide their gold and silver in the ground."The ground does not melt. Snow does. So it would not hide their gold and silver very long.""Why doesn't the ground melt, Polly?""Well, I don't know. You ask father. Snow melts because it is made of water.""Butter melts, sugar melts," said Peter. "They are not made of water. I wish to know why the ground does not melt, too. I wish to know now.""Peter, can't you stop asking questions and go to work? See, first we must dig a path here. Then we will begin our door."It took a long time to dig the path. But at last it was finished. Then they made a hole. It went straight into the side of the big snow pile. That was for the door."Now we must hollow out a place," said Polly. "It will be our room. We must make it large. We shall sleep there and eat there and live there. That is the waythe Eskimos do. I read it in a book at school.""I'd rather live in a house," said Peter. "Let's live in the house and play out here.""Then we will," said Polly. "It would be cold here anyway. I should think Eskimos would freeze in snow houses. But they do not."The next day the children scraped out more snow, and the next and the next. At last they had made quite a large room.It was nearly round. The floor was packed hard. The white walls were smooth. Polly could stand up straight in the middle.Mother gave them an old rug for the floor.She said, "Eskimos have fur rugs. You must play that this is bearskin."Father said, "Do you know what Eskimos call a snow house? It is igloo. Perhaps some day I will try to crawl into your igloo. I should like to see it.""Oh, do, father. Then we will have a party. It is quite warm inside. But we can make the door bigger for you.""Never mind about that," said father. "Perhaps I can get a fairy to shrink me. We shall see."THE FALL OF THE IGLOOFor many days the children played in their igloo. More snow fell. They dug it out of the path. Then they could get to the door."It only makes our house taller," said Polly. "It does not hurt the inside. I do not care how much snow comes on top of it.""You may care some day," said father. "Snow is heavy. After a while it may break down your roof.""What if we are inside when the roof breaks, Peter? The snow will get down our necks.""It will do more," said father. "It will bury you.""Will it hurt us, father?""I think not. But you will look like snow men afterward."One day Tim was playing with Peter and Polly. They were in the igloo. Collie was outside playing with Wag-wag.Wag-wag could go into the igloo. But the children did not like to have Collie there. He was so large that he took up too much room.Polly was the mother Eskimo. Peter was the father Eskimo. Tim was the little boy Eskimo.Mother Eskimo."I think we need some meat. We need a seal. I can use its skin. I will make boots of it."Father Eskimo."I killed a bear yesterday. Use the bearskin for boots."Mother Eskimo."Oh, no. That would not make good boots. I need sealskin for them. Besides I wish to use the bearskin to make some trousers. I must have new ones.""O Polly," said Peter, "women do not wear trousers.""Eskimo women do, Peter. Now you go and catch me a seal."Father Eskimo."But it is cold. I may have to watch many hours for a seal. I must sit very still beside his hole in the ice. If I move, he will not come up there to breathe. Perhaps I shall freeze, sitting so still."Mother Eskimo."No, you will not. Do I not make you good fur clothes? Do I not sew them with my good bone needle? They will keep you warm."Father Eskimo."Yes, but don't I have to get the fur for them? That is harder than making the clothes."Mother Eskimo."I am not so sure that it is. Should you like to scrape the skins to clean them? Should you like to chew them to make them soft?"Father Eskimo."No, I should rather hunt than chew skins. So I will go now."Father Eskimo crawled out of the igloo. He called to the dogs."Come here, dogs. You must drag my sledge. I am going out to catch a seal. You must draw it home on the sledge."The dogs were jumping up and down and playing with each other. They did not know that they were Eskimo dogs.Peter could not get them. He grew quite cross. He crawled back into the igloo."I cannot catch the dogs," he said. "I shall not go hunting. I shall not play Eskimo any more to-day."Polly started to speak. But instead she screamed. Something was happening. What were the dogs doing? Were they on the top of the igloo?The roof was breaking. She could see the leg of one dog sticking through. Then something fell on the children.It was the snow roof. It was also two dogs. Collie and Wag-wag had broken down the igloo.Father was just coming home. How he laughed when he saw the children and the dogs. He pulled them out from under the snow.He said, "Aren't you glad you are not real Eskimos? Aren't you glad you live in a strong house? Let's all go in and see what mother is cooking for supper. It will not be seal meat. Tim must come, too."PULLING PETER'S TOOTHPeter had a loose tooth. It was a lower front tooth. It was his first loose tooth. He had always wanted one.When Polly's teeth became loose, he would feel of his.He would say, "I wish I could wiggle mine, too. I wish I could pull mine out."Mother said, "You are not yet old enough to lose your teeth. I am glad that you are not. Why do you wish to have a loose tooth?""Because they are nice to wiggle," said Peter. "Because Polly is faster than I am. She has had four. I like the holes in her face, too. She can make a funny noise through them. It is a whistle.""Your turn will come by and by," said mother. "I suppose you will lose your upper front teeth first."But it happened one day that Peter fell down. He bumped his nose. He also cut his lip on a tooth.He must have bumped that tooth quite hard, for it became loose. Peter was much pleased."I should let it alone," said mother. "Perhaps it will grow tight again."But Peter could not seem to let it alone. He wiggled it with his tongue. He wiggled it with his fingers. At last he made it very loose.Then he said, "Polly, I must pull my tooth.""Oh, let it come out," said Polly. "Two of mine did.""No," said Peter. "I shall pull it. You pulled one of yours with your fingers. I shall do that."But the loose tooth would not come out."It will not pull," said Peter. "I shall put a string on it. I shall tie the end of the string to the door. Then I shall shut the door hard. It will pull my tooth. You did that.""Yes," said Polly. "That was fun. But I know a better way now. I will show it to you."She took a flatiron. She tied a string to it. She set it on the kitchen table. Then she tied the other end of the string to Peter's loose tooth.She said, "This string is too short to reach the floor. You push the flatiron off the table. It will fall down and jerk out your tooth.""Shall I now?" asked Peter."Yes, now."So Peter pushed the flatiron. But Polly had not been right. The string was too long. It reached to the floor.Down went the flatiron, bang! It landed on the edge of Peter's boot. It landed on the edge of Peter's toe, too. It hurt him, but not much. And the tooth did not come out."Oh! Oh!" cried Peter. "It hurt my foot, it hurt my foot! It didn't pull out my tooth at all." And he started to jump up and down.The very first jump surprised him. Something pulled at his mouth and then seemed to let go.It was the string around his tooth. He had jumped up far enough to pull the tooth out himself.How Polly did laugh when she saw this!Peter cried, "It's out, it's out! We have found a new way! I found it!" And he got down on the floor to pick up his tooth."I am going to save it to plant in my garden," he said."To plant!" said Polly. "What for?""So I shall have more," said Peter.Then Polly laughed again. She ran to tell mother about Peter's garden.DRIVING WITH FATHEROne morning father said, "I am going to Large Village to-day. You children may have a ride. You may go as far as Farmer Brown's. I will leave you there.""Oh, goody, goody!" cried Polly."Oh, goody, goody!" cried Peter."You are to stay to dinner. I shall have my dinner at Large Village. Run and get ready.""Oh, oh, oh!" cried both children at once.Farmer Brown lived two and one half miles away. You must follow the road past Mr. Howe's store to find his house.Peter and Polly liked to go there. They liked to see his horses, cows, sheep, pigs, and hens."We can see the sheep," said Polly. "They will not be in the pasture. The snow has covered the grass. Their wool will be thicker now than it was last summer.""We can see the pigs," said Peter. "Perhaps they will grunt at us."They drove to the farm in a low sled. When they were out of the village, Mr. Howe stopped."Do you wish to ride on the runners?" he asked.This was a great treat. Peter and Polly could never "catch rides" on people's sleds. Some of the other children were allowed to do this. But father showed Peter and Polly how they might get hurt.He said, "If you 'catch rides,' I shall worry. I shall worry all the time. So I ask you not to do it. When you drive with me, you may 'catch rides' all you please."So, on the way to Farmer Brown's, he drove slowly. And the children jumped on and off the sled at any time they wished. It was fun.The road followed the river all the way. But the river could not sing now. It was covered with ice.They passed through thick woods. Many of the trees were cedar. They are evergreens. So they had not lost their leaves."Look there," said father, stopping the horse.On one tree were many little birds. They looked black and gray. They were hopping about from twig to twig. They were calling, "Chick-a-dee, chick-a-dee.""I know them," said Polly. "They are saying their own names over and over. They are getting their breakfast. Aren't they cold at night, father? Where do they sleep? I wish they would come to our house.""I hope they sleep in some old hole, Polly. Then they can keep one another warm. Perhaps they rent part of a woodpecker's hole for the winter."We must put out some food for the birds to-morrow. Do not let me forget."At last Mr. Brown's house was in sight. The farmer and his wife came to the door to meet them."Well, well," said Mr. Brown, "here are our little friends. Your cheeks are red. You look as if you had been running. Didn't your father give you a ride?""Oh, yes," said Polly. "But we have been running behind. We have been catching rides on his sled. He lets us."He lets us ride on the runners, too. He does not wish us to do it except on his sled.""I hope that you mind him," said Mr. Brown."We do," said Polly."Shall we go out to the barn?" asked the farmer. "Where is Wag-wag? Didn't you bring him? He might have come.""I didn't know he was invited," said Polly. "Yes, let's go to the barn. Let's see everything you have there. Have you any little lambs?""It is not quite time for little lambs yet. But you can see all the sheep. They look fatter than they did last summer. That is because their wool has grown longer. When we get back, it will be dinner time."THE STAG"There is one hen that goes up into the hay," said Farmer Brown. "I think she lays her eggs there. But I cannot find them.""Let us go up into the hay to look for them," said Polly.So the children hunted. The barn was not very cold. Still it was not so nice as in the summer time.At last Polly nearly tumbled over something. It was the brown hen. She flew away with a loud cackle. Then Polly saw four eggs lying in the hay."I've found them, I've found them!" she shouted. She gave Peter two and took two herself. Then they went down to show Mr. Brown."You have sharp eyes," he said."I used to think I could see better if I had spectacles," said Polly. "I used to think that I should have four eyes then.""I am going to feed the horses now," said Mr. Brown. "You may come."While Mr. Brown did this, Peter and Polly looked carefully at each horse. They were hunting for one that they knew.It was the old brown mare. They had ridden horseback on her last summer. That was when they went with John to hunt for the turtle's eggs."There she is, I think," said Polly."Are you looking for John's mare? Yes, that is the one," said Farmer Brown."You will not need her to ride any more. I hear you have a pony of your own."Then the children told him about their pony. They told him about the Christmas tree."Ho, ho!" laughed Farmer Brown. "Who ever heard of a pony on a Christmas tree?""But think of a pony in a letter box," said Polly. And Farmer Brown laughed still more.How warm the cow stable was! Polly said, "How can it be so warm? There is no stove.""The cows themselves make it warm," said Mr. Brown. "See, here is one just the color of a deer. Isn't she pretty?""I guess the deer would be glad, if they had such a nice, warm house," said Polly."Yes, the winter is hard for them. It is cold, and food is not easy to find. There are two that sometimes come to our barnyard. I give them grain and hay and salt.""I wish I could see a deer to-day," said Polly. "Let us go to the barnyard and look.""We will feed the sheep now, Polly.You can watch for one while I am doing that."When the sheep were fed, it was dinner time. After dinner Mrs. Brown let the children play on the piazza.All at once Peter said, "See the pretty cow coming down from the woods. Whose is she? Perhaps she is lost.""Where, Peter?" asked Polly."Coming across the field. Now it is right there near the fence.""Oh, oh!" cried Polly. "That isn't a cow. I think it is a deer. See its horns."She called to Mr. Brown. Just as he came out of the house, the deer reached the fence. He walked quite close to it. Then he jumped over it."A pretty jump," said Mr. Brown. "The fence is more than four feet high. That is a fine stag. A stag is a father deer, you know."The stag walked across the road. He jumped another high fence. Then he went off up the railroad track."Oh," said Polly, "I wish I could jump like that. He didn't run at all.""It was a pretty sight," said Mr. Brown."I am sorry the old fellow did not stop for dinner. I am afraid he will have nothing better than bark and twigs, now.""It wasn't a cow, was it?" asked Peter."Cows can't jump like that, Peter. Though perhaps one did. I have heard of a cow that jumped over the moon. Have you?""Yes, I have. But I know she didn't really. Oh, here is father. We will tell him about my pretty cow."POLLY'S BIRD PARTY"Do you remember something, father?" asked Polly."What is it, chick?""Something you told me not to forget, father.""Let me think. What was it? Yes, I remember now. We were to put out some food for the birds. Is that it?""That is it. So, let us do it now.""Very well," said father. "We will. But mother must help. She must give us bones.""Bones!" said Polly. "Birds don't eat bones. But dogs do. If we put out bones, Wag-wag will get them.""Wag-wag will not get these," said father. "I shall tie them up in the trees. Wag-wag has not learned to climb trees.""I saw him trying one day," said Polly. "He was after a chipmunk. The chipmunk ran up a tree. Wag-wag put his fore pawson the trunk. He stood up on his hind feet. He tried hard to get up that trunk. He barked and barked.""What did the chipmunk do?" asked father."The chipmunk stopped on a branch over his head. He sat there and chattered. Grandmother said he was laughing."She told me he was saying, 'You can't come up, Wag-wag. You can't come up. You don't know how to climb. I am safe!'""Perhaps he was saying that," said father. "Now here are the bones.""Oh, I see," said Polly. "They have meat and fat on them. That is for the birds. They need not try to eat bones.""Yes, and here is grass seed. Some birds would rather have that. And here is cracked corn, too. It is for the larger birds."He put the grass seed into small baskets. He did the same with the corn."Now we are ready," he said. "You help me carry these things out. I will come back for the stepladder."Soon father had tied the bones to thetrees. He put them on the small branches. He tied them so that the birds could get at them easily. The birds could perch on the branches and peck at the meat.He said, "I will not tie them to large branches. Some cat might walk out and catch our birds."Then he fastened up the baskets. He fastened them tightly. They could not swing. The birds could perch upon the edge and eat the seeds and the corn."Now our party is ready," said father. "Do you suppose anything will come to it? We will keep food here the rest of the winter."How Peter and Polly watched the food! It seemed as if the birds would never come. But at last they found it.The very next morning Polly saw two birds eating there. She did not know what they were. She ran to tell mother."See our birds!" she cried. "We have two. What are they, oh, what are they?""You know them in the summer," said mother. "Then the father bird is yellow and black. You call them your canaries.""But they have changed their clothes,"said Polly. "They do not look the same. They are not so pretty.""Many birds change their color," said mother. "Do you dress in the winter just as you do in the summer? How those birds like the seeds!""There, there!" cried Polly. "See that big bird. He is after the meat. I know him. He is a blue jay. Don't you frighten away my other birds, Mr. Blue Jay."It was not long before many birds found the food. Day after day the chick-a-dees feasted. A few crows came. Once a flockof snowbirds stopped at the party. And there were many that Peter and Polly did not know.One day Polly saw a bird that she liked very much. It was a robin. She was surprised and pleased."I did not know that robins were here in cold weather," she said to him. "I like you best of all. You make me think of spring. Peter likes winter best. But I like you and spring. Please come to see me every day."And the robin did for nearly a month. Then he came no more. Perhaps he grew tired of waiting for spring. Perhaps he flew south to find it. Polly never knew.THE NEW SLED"I am going to begin to make something to-day," said father. "The stove is lighted. The workshop is warm. Who will be my helper?""I will," said Polly."I will," said Peter."Very well. You may both help. Come to the shop and guess what we are to make."The workshop was in Mr. Howe's barn. In it was a large workbench. Tools hung on the walls. A box of tools was near the bench.On the other side of the shop there was a very low workbench. It had two drawers. In the drawers were tools.There were two small hammers. There were two small saws. There were two small screw drivers. There were two pots of glue. There were nails, tacks, and screws.The big bench and the big tools were for Mr. Howe. The little bench and the little tools were for Peter and Polly.It was not hard to guess what was to be made. Father had laid the pieces of wood together. Any one could tell what they would make."It's a sled like your low one," said Polly. "I think it must be for Brownie. It is too small for a big horse.""That is just what it is, Polly. Grandmother wished to give you a sleigh. But this will be better. If you tip over, you will not fall far."I am glad to have you learn to use Brownie in the winter, too. The snow will make a soft cushion, if you fall off your sled."The parts of the sled had been made for father. He needed only to put them together. This did not take very long."Now," said father, "the carpenters have finished their work. We must draw our sled to the blacksmith's shop.""What for?" asked Peter."For the iron runners, my boy. They will make your sled slip easily. The blacksmithhas been making them. He says that he will fit them on to-morrow."So the three took the sled to the blacksmith. On the way Polly rode a little. Then Peter rode a little. Father was the horse.Once he played that he was running away. He tumbled Polly off into the soft snow. The children thought this great fun.At the blacksmith's shop they saw the runners. These did not quite fit the wooden runners. Polly felt sorry about this.But the blacksmith said, "Never you mind, Polly. I can heat them at the forge. That will make them soft. Then I can bend them as I wish."You ought to know about this. Haven't you seen me shoe horses? Haven't you seen me make the shoes fit?""Yes," said Polly. "But, you see, I forgot about that."The next afternoon the sled came home. The blacksmith's boy drew it. The iron runners were on. They fitted well."Now," said father, "we have another job to begin to-morrow. We must paint the sled. What color shall it be?"The children talked about it a long time.At last Polly said, "Peter likes red and I like red. May we paint it red, father?""Red is a good color," said father. "We will paint it red. See that your brushes are soft. You must help on the work, you know."The next day the painting began. Each child had a part to do all alone. Of course, Peter got paint on his hands. And there were large, red spots on his clothes. But they were old, and no one cared.The first coat of paint dried quickly in the warm room. Then another was put on, and the work was done.Peter and Polly went to the workshop many times a day to look at the sled. They touched the paint with their fingers. Surely it must be dry.At last father said, "The paint is hard now. The sled is ready for use. We will harness Brownie to it to-morrow."BROWNIE"Now may we harness Brownie?" asked Polly."Now you may," said father.He drew out the new, red sled. He put on Brownie's little harness. He helped the children harness her to the sled.They jumped in. Polly had the reins. She said, "Get up, Brownie," and Brownie walked out of the yard."First, we will show grandmother," said Polly. "Brownie is grandmother's present. She must see us driving her."They stopped in front of grandmother's house. Peter went in to call her to the door. Polly held Brownie."Well, well," said grandmother, "that isnice. What a pretty sled you have. I like the color.""We helped to make it," said Polly. "We wished you to see us first. We are going to show the children now. Hear our pretty sleigh bells. Good-by."Down the hill Brownie trotted. Her bells jingled softly. She went across the railroad track and into the bridge.Some of the village children were looking over the railing. They were watching men cutting ice.When they saw Peter and Polly, they cried, "Here comes the pony! See Peter and Polly! Look at the red sled! Give us a ride! Oh, give us a ride!""Yes, we will," said Polly. "Come up on the street, where it is smooth. Two of you get in with us. We will take two more by and by."Polly could drive quite well. She had often driven father's horse, when father took her with him. She let each child hold Brownie's reins."Let more ride at once," said one of the girls. "There is room in the sled.""No," said Polly. "The pony is strong,but she is little. I will not let her drag more than four. And two are enough, going uphill."So they trotted up and down the street. Sometimes the boys and girls who were notriding ran by Brownie's side. Brownie seemed to enjoy the fun as much as any of them.At last it was time to go home. The children all patted the pony. This was to thank her for the good time she had given them. Then Peter and Polly drove away, up the hill.Mother came out of the house. She said, "Do you think you can do an errand for me? Can you drive to the creamery? I wish some buttermilk. Here is a pail for it.""What fun," said Polly. "Yes, of course, we can do that. You hold the pail, Peter."Down the hill they trotted again. At the creamery, Polly took the pail. She went inside.She said, "Have you some buttermilk for me?""Plenty," said the creamery man. "Just hold your pail under the faucet.""See our new pony," said Polly. "See our new sled.""Are you driving your pony? I saw her the day she came. She is a fine pony. If you tip over going home, come back for more buttermilk.""Thank you," said Polly. "We have not tipped over yet.""There always has to be a first time," said the man.Going up the hill, Polly said, "We are nearly home. Perhaps we shall not tip over to-day. Why does every one think that we shall?"But, as they turned into their driveway, Polly pulled the wrong rein. Brownie stepped to the side of the road. One of the sled runners struck a bank of snow.Over went sled, children, and buttermilk. Brownie stopped and looked around. Polly was standing on her head in the soft snow. Peter was covered with buttermilk. No one was hurt.Polly scrambled up. She pulled Peter to his feet. She said, "Don't cry, Peter. Buttermilk will not hurt you. You like it.""Yes, I do," said Peter. "But that is inside, not outside. How would you like it down your neck?""Well," said Polly, "you get into the sled again. We must go back for more buttermilk. You may drive all the way. Perhaps you won't tip us over."DISH-PAN SLEDS"Peter and Polly," said mother, "should you like to play a new game?""Oh, yes, oh, yes! Tell us fast!" cried both children."I cannot tell you," said mother. "But I will show you. Get ready to go out of doors. Here comes Tim. That is good. He may play, too.""How many can be in this game, mother?""Ever so many, Polly. Please take this dish pan. Peter, carry this pan. Tim, here is one for you. Now follow me."Mrs. Howe went through the open gate into the hayfield. A hard crust was on the top of the snow."See, children," she said, "what a fine crust. It holds me up. It is just right for sliding. By and by the sun will make it soft.""I wish we had our sleds," said Peter. "Let's go back for them.""You have them with you," said mother. "That is the game.""I don't see any game," said Peter. "And I don't see any sleds.""Then I will show you, my son. Bring your big pan here. Put it down on the edge of the hill. Now sit in it. Hold on to the handles. Keep your feet up. You need not steer. You can't run into anything here. Now go."Mother gave Peter a push. Away he went on the icy crust."Mother, mother!" cried Polly, jumping up and down. "Look at Peter, look! I want to go! I want to go!""In a minute," said mother. "Watch Peter, first."Peter's dish-pan sled was not like a real sled. It did not go straight. It turned around and around. First Peter slid backward, then sideways. At last he reached the bottom.He stood up and looked around. Then he laughed."Did you like it, Peter?" called mother."I did! I did!" cried Peter. "It felt just like sliding and rolling down hill at the same time. I am going to play this game all the morning. Let's all go now.""Very well," said mother. "If you bump into one another, it won't hurt you. Get ready."So the children, in their dish-pan sleds,started down the hill. Polly bumped into Tim. This made him spin around and around. Polly went the rest of the way backward. Near the bottom she fell out.Just then Wag-wag came running up the field. He was dragging Peter's sled behind him.He had heard the children and was coming to find them. Perhaps he thought they had forgotten Peter's sled."Oh, look, look!" said Polly. "Wag-wag has a sled, too. Let's give him a slide. Come here, Wag-wag. Come here, sir."But Wag-wag would not come. Instead, he ran up the hill past Mrs. Howe. The children picked up their dish pans and chased him."Never mind," said mother. "When he is tired of playing with the sled, he may bring it back. Or you can go after it."Now good-by. Slide until the crust is soft. Then come in. Do you like the new game, children?""Oh, we do, we do!" they all cried."And we like our new sleds, mother. We are going to name them," said Polly."I am going to tell my mother not towash dishes any more. I am going to tell her to give me her dish pan," said Tim.The children slid for a long time. At last the crust began to be soft. They sank in a little at every step."I shall slide once more," Polly said. "Then I shall go home.""I shall get my sled first," said Peter. "I wish Wag-wag had not left it so far away."Peter started across the field. Before long, he came to a place where the snow was very soft. He sank into it as far as his legs could go. He could not get to the sled. So he went home feeling quite cross.Tim's father was in the yard. He had come for Tim. Collie was with him.Peter said, "Wag-wag is a bad dog. He left my sled out in the field. The snow is soft. I cannot get to it."Tim said, "My father will send Collie after your sled, Peter. Won't you, father?""Oh, will you?" asked Peter. "I shall want to slide in the road after dinner. Dish pans are not good in the road. So I need my sled.""Why, yes," said Tim's father. "Colliecan get it. He will not break through the crust as you do."He showed Tim's sled to Collie. He put the rope into Collie's mouth. He pointed to the end of the big field. Then he said, "Collie, go bring the sled."Collie was a wise dog. He understood many things that were said to him. He knew what his master wished him to do now.He went running over the snow. He found the sled and drew it home."Good old Collie," said his master, patting him."There," said Tim, "I told you Collie is smarter than Wag-wag. He is, too.""Maybe he isn't," said Peter. "Maybe Wag-wag was smart to leave my sled there. But anyway I like Collie because he got it for me."CAT AND COPY-CATOne winter day grandmother had been visiting Mrs. Brown. In the afternoon she started for home. The sun was warm. The snow was packed hard in the road. The walking was good.Grandmother liked the cold, crisp air. She liked the blue sky, and the hills and fields all white with snow. She liked to hear the chick-a-dees, calling among the trees.She was halfway home, when she heard a noise behind her. It was, "Meow, meow.""That sounds like a cat," said grandmother to herself. "But, of course, it is not. No cat would be in these woods in winter.""Meow, meow," came the sound again.This time grandmother looked around. What do you think she saw? There, in the road behind her, were two black and white kittens. They were trotting along side by side. They looked just alike.Grandmother stopped and called, "Kitty, kitty, kitty! Come here, you pretty kitties. Where did you come from? Are you following me?"As soon as grandmother stopped, the kittens, too, stopped. She went back toward them. When she did this, the kittens turned and ran away. They did not wish to be caught.Grandmother called to them again. She tried in every way to get near them. But she could not.At last she said, "Poor kittens! You do not know that I am your friend. I do not like to leave you here in the cold. But I cannot stay any longer. I must go home."So she walked on up the road. When the kittens saw this, they started after her. She looked back and saw them following. Side by side they came, their little pointed tails straight up."Well, I never!" said grandmother to herself. "Now, do you suppose they will follow me home?"She kept looking back to see. Every time she looked, the kittens were coming. But, if she stopped, they stopped.Through the village they went. They did not seem afraid. There were no people about. Not a dog was to be seen.At last they reached grandmother's house."Now," said grandmother, "you have followed me to my door. Are you looking for a new home? Did you pick me out to be your mistress? If you really wish to live with me, you may. We shall see."She unlocked the door and went in. She left the door open. And after her went the two black and white kittens. They ran under the stove at once. Then grandmother shut the door.In a short time she gave them some warm milk. When they had finished it, they took a walk around the room.One found grandmother's workbasket. Then he felt sure that he should like his new home. He began to play with the spools.His brother saw him. He thought he should like a game, too. So he rolled some of the spools out on the floor. But grandmother put the basket away before they did much harm.Just then the telephone bell rang. The kittens both looked around. One jumpedupon the table. From there he jumped to the telephone box.He put his paw on the bell, which kept ringing. Perhaps he thought it would play with him. Perhaps he did not like the noise.Then one jumped up into grandmother's lap. She patted it; and soon the other came, too."You funny kittens," said grandmother. "You are almost alike. You, sir, have a black spot on this leg. You have not. If you are to be my kittens, I must name you."You are so nearly alike, I shall call you Cat and Copy-cat. And, if you are good, you shall always live with me."Now I will telephone to Peter and Polly about you."POLLY'S SNOWSHOES"Peter, I've thought of something. Let's make some snowshoes.""How do you do it, Polly?""I think I know. I saw a pair this morning. They were made of barrel staves. They are not real snowshoes, of course.""Of course not," said Peter. "Father's snowshoes are not made of barrel staves. Let's go to look at his. Let's make some like them.""We can't, Peter. But we can make the other kind. Let's see if there is a broken barrel. Then we'll ask mother if we may have four staves.""My flour barrel is just empty," said mother. "We will roll it outside. I will knock it to pieces. Then you may have your four staves. Please clean them out of doors. If you do not, you will get flour all over the workshop."When the children took the staves into the workshop, Peter said, "What next?""We want four strips of leather next. They are for straps. We will tack one strap on each stave. They will go across the staves. We will tack them at the sides. They must be loose. We shall put our toes under them.""How will our snowshoes stay on?" asked Peter."I'll show you by and by. I must ask mother to cut this leather for me."When the leather was cut, Polly tacked on the straps. The snowshoes now looked like this:"I wish to put mine on," said Peter.So he stuck his toes under the leather straps. He scuffed over the floor. Then he tried to go backward. But he only pulled his feet out of the leather straps."They will not stay on. I knew they would not," he said. "I do not like them very well.""I'm fixing mine so that they will stay on," said Polly. "I will fix yours, too."To each end of the leather straps Polly had tied a piece of soft rope. Her snowshoes now looked like this:"Put your toes under the straps, Peter. I will wind the ropes back of your heels. Now they go around your ankles and tie in front. See if the snowshoes will come off now."Peter scuffed around the room again. The snowshoes held fast. They worked very well when he scuffed. But, if he tried to step, the backs flew up and hit him."Father's don't do that," said Peter."I know it," said Polly. "There are holes in father's. His toes go down through those holes. You haven't any holes. So your toes push the front of your snowshoes down. Then the backs fly up and hit you. You must scuff, not walk.""I will," said Peter. "Let's go out ofdoors and try them. They are good snowshoes now."So out the children went. There was a little crust. The children walked on it. Their snowshoes held them up.They called to mother. She must see them. Mother looked through the window. She clapped her hands.All went well for a few steps. Then the toe of Polly's snowshoe caught. It cut into the crust.This pulled Polly forward. She fell on her face. Her arms stuck down into thesnow. The points of her snowshoes stuck down into the snow, too. At first Polly could not get up.Then she rolled over on her side. She was almost on her feet again, when Wag-wag dashed up.He had seen Polly rolling in the snow. He thought it was a game. He wished to play, too.He took the end of one snowshoe in his teeth. He pulled and pulled. He shook the snowshoe. Then he jumped around Polly and on her.Polly was laughing so that she could not scold him. She could only say, "Oh, don't, Wag-wag! Don't!"Mother and Peter were laughing. And perhaps Wag-wag was laughing, too.At last he stopped playing. Mother came out of the house. She threw a broom to Polly. Polly helped herself up with this.She said, "These are good snowshoes. They are best when I am on them. They are not so good when I am down. But I think that I can do better than that next time."THE WOODS IN WINTER"We are going on a picnic to-day, chicks," said Mr. Howe."A picnic, father! I thought picnics were in summer.""So they are, Polly. But why not have a winter picnic, too? I am going into the woods. You may come, if you wish.""But at picnics we have things to eat. We eat out of doors.""We shall have things to eat to-day. And we shall eat out of doors, too.""But, father, we shall be cold!""What keeps us warm in the house in winter, Polly?""A fire," said Polly. "Oh, now I know, now I know! You will build a fire in the woods. Once you promised me that you would. Goody, goody, goody, goody!" And Polly jumped up and down for joy."What shall we eat?" asked Peter. "Just bread and butter?""Oh, no," said father. "We shall have bread and butter, of course. But we shall have other things, too. We will cook our dinner.""Oh, oh, oh!" cried both children."Are you glad? I thought you would like it. Now help me get ready. Please get my knapsack, Polly."In the kitchen, mother was busy spreading bread. She wrapped paper around the slices. She put coffee into a small, cheese-cloth bag. She filled a flat bottle with milk.Father took six eggs. He rolled them up in paper. He put a jar of bacon into his knapsack. Then the bread, coffee, and eggs were fitted in. The bottle of milk went into his pocket."We will take my camp dishes," he said. "I will fasten my hatchet to my belt. Get on your things, and we are ready.""Let's play that we are Indians," said Polly. "Where are we going, father?""Up the wood road on the hill. I must see if all our wood has been cut. We need a little for our furnace, a little for our stove, and a great deal for our fireplaces."Let's all keep our eyes wide open to-day. We may see interesting things.""I think that cooking our dinner will be interesting, father. I almost wish it were dinner time now.""We will build our fire where our trees have been cut. There we shall find plenty of firewood," said father."See those tracks in the snow, children. A rabbit has been here. Yes, this hollow is where he lies. The snow is packed hard. It is a little dirty, too. Perhaps he is near by, watching us.""Poor rabbit," said Polly. "What a cold bed. The Eskimos have snow beds. But they have fur rugs to cover the snow.""The rabbit has one between him and thesnow, too. Only his rug is on his back. It keeps him warm," said father."Look, look!" cried Polly. "Over there by those trees!""That's surely a rabbit, Polly. See him jump along. He is nearly as white as the snow. He did not wait for us to call, did he?""What big jumps," said Polly. "I think he could beat Wag-wag.""I am sure that he could, Polly. His hind legs are very long. They are made for jumping. He can take twice as big jumps as he is taking now. But he will not, unless we frighten him.""Why doesn't he go into a hole in the winter? Why doesn't he sleep until spring comes? The woodchuck does. Why doesn't he?" asked Polly."He is not made so that he can. Some animals store up fat on themselves. In the winter they go to sleep."Then they seem to live on that fat. For, in the spring, they are always thin and hungry looking."You couldn't do that, you know. And the rabbit cannot do it. What are those birds, Peter?""Chickadees," said Peter. "I always know them. They cannot fool me. They never say anything but 'chick-a-dee.'""Oh, yes, they do, my son. Listen! What is that? There it is again.""Some one is whistling," said Polly. "Isn't it a pretty whistle?""It is just two notes," said father. "Aren't they sweet and clear?""It is quite near. But I cannot see any one. Are you doing it, father?" asked Polly. "Why, now I can hear three people.""Look above you, Polly. You will see who is whistling."Polly looked. There on a limb of a tree was a chick-a-dee. He was singing those two notes. In the next tree another was singing two other notes."So you see, Peter, that they do say something besides 'chick-a-dee.' These two notes are their song. The other is just their talk. Perhaps you can learn to whistle those notes."Here is the place where our wood has been cut. Let us look at it."
Early Christmas morning Peter awoke. He heard a noise in mother's room. So he knew that he might get up.
He pushed open the door. "Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas!" he shouted.
"Merry Christmas," said mother, hugging him tightly.
"Merry Christmas," said father, tossing him up into the air. "Did you see Santa Claus last night?"
Just then Polly ran in. "Oh, oh, it is Christmas!" she cried. "Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas! See what I found in my bed."
It was a box of animal crackers. They were all sheep.
"O father! You did it for a joke. You know I do not like mutton."
Peter ran to look in his room. He thought a joke might be there, too.
"See, see!" he shouted. "I have found a letter box. That is not a joke."
"Look inside," said father.
Peter looked. There he saw a very small pony. It was made of cloth. On its back it had a cloth monkey.
"A joke, a joke!" cried Polly. "Your pony came in your letter box after all."
There were to be no more presents until after breakfast. So the children dressed quickly.
It was hard for them to eat anything.
At last Polly said, "I cannot wait another second. I will eat my breakfast with my dinner. Here comes grandmother. Now may we open the door and see the tree?"
"In just a minute," said father. "You say 'Merry Christmas' to grandmother. I have one last thing for the tree. You may come in when I call." And out he ran.
"I wonder what it is," said Polly. "I can hear him coming back through the side door."
Then grandmother came in, and Polly forgot to wonder any more.
At last they heard father shout, "Come!"
Polly opened the door, and the children rushed in.
"Oh! Oh!" said Polly.
"Oh! Oh!" said Peter.
Such a beautiful tree they had never before seen. It was hung with strings of popped corn and red cranberries. It was covered with colored balls and big gold stars. Over it was white, shiny stuff that looked like snow.
It had candy bags and oranges. At the top, there was a doll with wings. And there were many boxes and packages.
"Oh! Oh! Oh!" said both children again.
"Do you like it?" asked mother.
"I never saw anything so pretty," said Polly. "Is that a fairy at the top?"
"I think it is Santa Claus's little girl," said Peter. "I should like to have her for my own."
"Should you rather have that than anything else here?" asked father.
"I think so, father. May I?"
"Walk around the tree and see if you are sure, my son."
Peter did as he was told. He had not taken many steps when he jumped back with a cry.
"What is it? What is it?" he asked.
Polly ran forward, and what do you think she saw?
On the other side of the tree something moved. Polly saw two large eyes, two long ears, a brown head, and then she knew that it was a pony.
"Peter, Peter!" she cried, "here is the pony! It is on the Christmas tree! O Peter, Peter, Peter!"
"Lead her out," said father. "She will come with you. She likes children."
So Polly took hold of the little strap. And the pony walked out into the room after her.
"Her name is Brownie," said father. "She is grandmother's present to you and Peter. She is half yours and half Peter's."
"O grandmother!" cried Polly. "I thank you now, but I will thank you better by and by."
"Which half is mine, grandmother?" asked Peter.
"Half of both halves," said grandmother. "Why?"
"Nothing," said Peter. "I love both her halves. And I love you, too. And I love the tree, and Christmas, and everybody."
"And so you should," said father. "Come now, we will take Brownie to her stable. Then you may get the presents off the tree."
One day there was a heavy snowstorm. At the same time the wind blew. It heaped the snow over the road in front of Polly's house.
The snow was so deep that horses could not walk through. Men had to dig the road out.
Mr. Howe helped to do this. Peter and Polly watched the work. They thought it great fun.
The men threw the snow by the side of the road. Soon the piles were very high. They were twice as high as Polly could reach.
A few days after this Polly said, "I know what we can do."
"What?" asked Peter.
"Let's play Eskimos."
"How do you play it?" asked Peter.
"Well," said Polly, "first we must makea snow house. Then we can think of other things to do."
"We can't," said Peter.
"Can't what?" asked Polly. "Can't think of things to do? I can, if you can't."
"No," said Peter, "we can't make a snow house. We tried. It tumbled down. Don't you remember?"
"I've thought how to do it, Peter. Come on. I will show you."
Polly took Peter to the great pile of snow by the side of the road.
"There is our house," she said. "It is all made for us."
"That isn't any house, Polly. I think I won't play with you to-day. You tease me. I am going to see Tim. Good-by."
"O Peter! Wait, wait! I won't tease. I will tell you about it now. That is our house really and truly. But it is just the outside.
"We must make a hole in the pile for a door. Then we must dig out the inside. Can't we do that, Peter?"
Peter said, "Oh, yes. We can do that. I see about it now. I will help. We can dig very well.
"We dug our cyclone hole last summer.Perhaps we shall find another box with silver dollars in it."
"Perhaps we shall not, too," said Polly. "I don't expect to find things in the snow. People hide their gold and silver in the ground.
"The ground does not melt. Snow does. So it would not hide their gold and silver very long."
"Why doesn't the ground melt, Polly?"
"Well, I don't know. You ask father. Snow melts because it is made of water."
"Butter melts, sugar melts," said Peter. "They are not made of water. I wish to know why the ground does not melt, too. I wish to know now."
"Peter, can't you stop asking questions and go to work? See, first we must dig a path here. Then we will begin our door."
It took a long time to dig the path. But at last it was finished. Then they made a hole. It went straight into the side of the big snow pile. That was for the door.
"Now we must hollow out a place," said Polly. "It will be our room. We must make it large. We shall sleep there and eat there and live there. That is the waythe Eskimos do. I read it in a book at school."
"I'd rather live in a house," said Peter. "Let's live in the house and play out here."
"Then we will," said Polly. "It would be cold here anyway. I should think Eskimos would freeze in snow houses. But they do not."
The next day the children scraped out more snow, and the next and the next. At last they had made quite a large room.
It was nearly round. The floor was packed hard. The white walls were smooth. Polly could stand up straight in the middle.
Mother gave them an old rug for the floor.
She said, "Eskimos have fur rugs. You must play that this is bearskin."
Father said, "Do you know what Eskimos call a snow house? It is igloo. Perhaps some day I will try to crawl into your igloo. I should like to see it."
"Oh, do, father. Then we will have a party. It is quite warm inside. But we can make the door bigger for you."
"Never mind about that," said father. "Perhaps I can get a fairy to shrink me. We shall see."
For many days the children played in their igloo. More snow fell. They dug it out of the path. Then they could get to the door.
"It only makes our house taller," said Polly. "It does not hurt the inside. I do not care how much snow comes on top of it."
"You may care some day," said father. "Snow is heavy. After a while it may break down your roof."
"What if we are inside when the roof breaks, Peter? The snow will get down our necks."
"It will do more," said father. "It will bury you."
"Will it hurt us, father?"
"I think not. But you will look like snow men afterward."
One day Tim was playing with Peter and Polly. They were in the igloo. Collie was outside playing with Wag-wag.
Wag-wag could go into the igloo. But the children did not like to have Collie there. He was so large that he took up too much room.
Polly was the mother Eskimo. Peter was the father Eskimo. Tim was the little boy Eskimo.
Mother Eskimo."I think we need some meat. We need a seal. I can use its skin. I will make boots of it."
Father Eskimo."I killed a bear yesterday. Use the bearskin for boots."
Mother Eskimo."Oh, no. That would not make good boots. I need sealskin for them. Besides I wish to use the bearskin to make some trousers. I must have new ones."
"O Polly," said Peter, "women do not wear trousers."
"Eskimo women do, Peter. Now you go and catch me a seal."
Father Eskimo."But it is cold. I may have to watch many hours for a seal. I must sit very still beside his hole in the ice. If I move, he will not come up there to breathe. Perhaps I shall freeze, sitting so still."
Mother Eskimo."No, you will not. Do I not make you good fur clothes? Do I not sew them with my good bone needle? They will keep you warm."
Father Eskimo."Yes, but don't I have to get the fur for them? That is harder than making the clothes."
Mother Eskimo."I am not so sure that it is. Should you like to scrape the skins to clean them? Should you like to chew them to make them soft?"
Father Eskimo."No, I should rather hunt than chew skins. So I will go now."
Father Eskimo crawled out of the igloo. He called to the dogs.
"Come here, dogs. You must drag my sledge. I am going out to catch a seal. You must draw it home on the sledge."
The dogs were jumping up and down and playing with each other. They did not know that they were Eskimo dogs.
Peter could not get them. He grew quite cross. He crawled back into the igloo.
"I cannot catch the dogs," he said. "I shall not go hunting. I shall not play Eskimo any more to-day."
Polly started to speak. But instead she screamed. Something was happening. What were the dogs doing? Were they on the top of the igloo?
The roof was breaking. She could see the leg of one dog sticking through. Then something fell on the children.
It was the snow roof. It was also two dogs. Collie and Wag-wag had broken down the igloo.
Father was just coming home. How he laughed when he saw the children and the dogs. He pulled them out from under the snow.
He said, "Aren't you glad you are not real Eskimos? Aren't you glad you live in a strong house? Let's all go in and see what mother is cooking for supper. It will not be seal meat. Tim must come, too."
Peter had a loose tooth. It was a lower front tooth. It was his first loose tooth. He had always wanted one.
When Polly's teeth became loose, he would feel of his.
He would say, "I wish I could wiggle mine, too. I wish I could pull mine out."
Mother said, "You are not yet old enough to lose your teeth. I am glad that you are not. Why do you wish to have a loose tooth?"
"Because they are nice to wiggle," said Peter. "Because Polly is faster than I am. She has had four. I like the holes in her face, too. She can make a funny noise through them. It is a whistle."
"Your turn will come by and by," said mother. "I suppose you will lose your upper front teeth first."
But it happened one day that Peter fell down. He bumped his nose. He also cut his lip on a tooth.
He must have bumped that tooth quite hard, for it became loose. Peter was much pleased.
"I should let it alone," said mother. "Perhaps it will grow tight again."
But Peter could not seem to let it alone. He wiggled it with his tongue. He wiggled it with his fingers. At last he made it very loose.
Then he said, "Polly, I must pull my tooth."
"Oh, let it come out," said Polly. "Two of mine did."
"No," said Peter. "I shall pull it. You pulled one of yours with your fingers. I shall do that."
But the loose tooth would not come out.
"It will not pull," said Peter. "I shall put a string on it. I shall tie the end of the string to the door. Then I shall shut the door hard. It will pull my tooth. You did that."
"Yes," said Polly. "That was fun. But I know a better way now. I will show it to you."
She took a flatiron. She tied a string to it. She set it on the kitchen table. Then she tied the other end of the string to Peter's loose tooth.
She said, "This string is too short to reach the floor. You push the flatiron off the table. It will fall down and jerk out your tooth."
"Shall I now?" asked Peter.
"Yes, now."
So Peter pushed the flatiron. But Polly had not been right. The string was too long. It reached to the floor.
Down went the flatiron, bang! It landed on the edge of Peter's boot. It landed on the edge of Peter's toe, too. It hurt him, but not much. And the tooth did not come out.
"Oh! Oh!" cried Peter. "It hurt my foot, it hurt my foot! It didn't pull out my tooth at all." And he started to jump up and down.
The very first jump surprised him. Something pulled at his mouth and then seemed to let go.
It was the string around his tooth. He had jumped up far enough to pull the tooth out himself.
How Polly did laugh when she saw this!
Peter cried, "It's out, it's out! We have found a new way! I found it!" And he got down on the floor to pick up his tooth.
"I am going to save it to plant in my garden," he said.
"To plant!" said Polly. "What for?"
"So I shall have more," said Peter.
Then Polly laughed again. She ran to tell mother about Peter's garden.
One morning father said, "I am going to Large Village to-day. You children may have a ride. You may go as far as Farmer Brown's. I will leave you there."
"Oh, goody, goody!" cried Polly.
"Oh, goody, goody!" cried Peter.
"You are to stay to dinner. I shall have my dinner at Large Village. Run and get ready."
"Oh, oh, oh!" cried both children at once.
Farmer Brown lived two and one half miles away. You must follow the road past Mr. Howe's store to find his house.
Peter and Polly liked to go there. They liked to see his horses, cows, sheep, pigs, and hens.
"We can see the sheep," said Polly. "They will not be in the pasture. The snow has covered the grass. Their wool will be thicker now than it was last summer."
"We can see the pigs," said Peter. "Perhaps they will grunt at us."
They drove to the farm in a low sled. When they were out of the village, Mr. Howe stopped.
"Do you wish to ride on the runners?" he asked.
This was a great treat. Peter and Polly could never "catch rides" on people's sleds. Some of the other children were allowed to do this. But father showed Peter and Polly how they might get hurt.
He said, "If you 'catch rides,' I shall worry. I shall worry all the time. So I ask you not to do it. When you drive with me, you may 'catch rides' all you please."
So, on the way to Farmer Brown's, he drove slowly. And the children jumped on and off the sled at any time they wished. It was fun.
The road followed the river all the way. But the river could not sing now. It was covered with ice.
They passed through thick woods. Many of the trees were cedar. They are evergreens. So they had not lost their leaves.
"Look there," said father, stopping the horse.
On one tree were many little birds. They looked black and gray. They were hopping about from twig to twig. They were calling, "Chick-a-dee, chick-a-dee."
"I know them," said Polly. "They are saying their own names over and over. They are getting their breakfast. Aren't they cold at night, father? Where do they sleep? I wish they would come to our house."
"I hope they sleep in some old hole, Polly. Then they can keep one another warm. Perhaps they rent part of a woodpecker's hole for the winter.
"We must put out some food for the birds to-morrow. Do not let me forget."
At last Mr. Brown's house was in sight. The farmer and his wife came to the door to meet them.
"Well, well," said Mr. Brown, "here are our little friends. Your cheeks are red. You look as if you had been running. Didn't your father give you a ride?"
"Oh, yes," said Polly. "But we have been running behind. We have been catching rides on his sled. He lets us.
"He lets us ride on the runners, too. He does not wish us to do it except on his sled."
"I hope that you mind him," said Mr. Brown.
"We do," said Polly.
"Shall we go out to the barn?" asked the farmer. "Where is Wag-wag? Didn't you bring him? He might have come."
"I didn't know he was invited," said Polly. "Yes, let's go to the barn. Let's see everything you have there. Have you any little lambs?"
"It is not quite time for little lambs yet. But you can see all the sheep. They look fatter than they did last summer. That is because their wool has grown longer. When we get back, it will be dinner time."
"There is one hen that goes up into the hay," said Farmer Brown. "I think she lays her eggs there. But I cannot find them."
"Let us go up into the hay to look for them," said Polly.
So the children hunted. The barn was not very cold. Still it was not so nice as in the summer time.
At last Polly nearly tumbled over something. It was the brown hen. She flew away with a loud cackle. Then Polly saw four eggs lying in the hay.
"I've found them, I've found them!" she shouted. She gave Peter two and took two herself. Then they went down to show Mr. Brown.
"You have sharp eyes," he said.
"I used to think I could see better if I had spectacles," said Polly. "I used to think that I should have four eyes then."
"I am going to feed the horses now," said Mr. Brown. "You may come."
While Mr. Brown did this, Peter and Polly looked carefully at each horse. They were hunting for one that they knew.
It was the old brown mare. They had ridden horseback on her last summer. That was when they went with John to hunt for the turtle's eggs.
"There she is, I think," said Polly.
"Are you looking for John's mare? Yes, that is the one," said Farmer Brown."You will not need her to ride any more. I hear you have a pony of your own."
Then the children told him about their pony. They told him about the Christmas tree.
"Ho, ho!" laughed Farmer Brown. "Who ever heard of a pony on a Christmas tree?"
"But think of a pony in a letter box," said Polly. And Farmer Brown laughed still more.
How warm the cow stable was! Polly said, "How can it be so warm? There is no stove."
"The cows themselves make it warm," said Mr. Brown. "See, here is one just the color of a deer. Isn't she pretty?"
"I guess the deer would be glad, if they had such a nice, warm house," said Polly.
"Yes, the winter is hard for them. It is cold, and food is not easy to find. There are two that sometimes come to our barnyard. I give them grain and hay and salt."
"I wish I could see a deer to-day," said Polly. "Let us go to the barnyard and look."
"We will feed the sheep now, Polly.You can watch for one while I am doing that."
When the sheep were fed, it was dinner time. After dinner Mrs. Brown let the children play on the piazza.
All at once Peter said, "See the pretty cow coming down from the woods. Whose is she? Perhaps she is lost."
"Where, Peter?" asked Polly.
"Coming across the field. Now it is right there near the fence."
"Oh, oh!" cried Polly. "That isn't a cow. I think it is a deer. See its horns."
She called to Mr. Brown. Just as he came out of the house, the deer reached the fence. He walked quite close to it. Then he jumped over it.
"A pretty jump," said Mr. Brown. "The fence is more than four feet high. That is a fine stag. A stag is a father deer, you know."
The stag walked across the road. He jumped another high fence. Then he went off up the railroad track.
"Oh," said Polly, "I wish I could jump like that. He didn't run at all."
"It was a pretty sight," said Mr. Brown."I am sorry the old fellow did not stop for dinner. I am afraid he will have nothing better than bark and twigs, now."
"It wasn't a cow, was it?" asked Peter.
"Cows can't jump like that, Peter. Though perhaps one did. I have heard of a cow that jumped over the moon. Have you?"
"Yes, I have. But I know she didn't really. Oh, here is father. We will tell him about my pretty cow."
"Do you remember something, father?" asked Polly.
"What is it, chick?"
"Something you told me not to forget, father."
"Let me think. What was it? Yes, I remember now. We were to put out some food for the birds. Is that it?"
"That is it. So, let us do it now."
"Very well," said father. "We will. But mother must help. She must give us bones."
"Bones!" said Polly. "Birds don't eat bones. But dogs do. If we put out bones, Wag-wag will get them."
"Wag-wag will not get these," said father. "I shall tie them up in the trees. Wag-wag has not learned to climb trees."
"I saw him trying one day," said Polly. "He was after a chipmunk. The chipmunk ran up a tree. Wag-wag put his fore pawson the trunk. He stood up on his hind feet. He tried hard to get up that trunk. He barked and barked."
"What did the chipmunk do?" asked father.
"The chipmunk stopped on a branch over his head. He sat there and chattered. Grandmother said he was laughing.
"She told me he was saying, 'You can't come up, Wag-wag. You can't come up. You don't know how to climb. I am safe!'"
"Perhaps he was saying that," said father. "Now here are the bones."
"Oh, I see," said Polly. "They have meat and fat on them. That is for the birds. They need not try to eat bones."
"Yes, and here is grass seed. Some birds would rather have that. And here is cracked corn, too. It is for the larger birds."
He put the grass seed into small baskets. He did the same with the corn.
"Now we are ready," he said. "You help me carry these things out. I will come back for the stepladder."
Soon father had tied the bones to thetrees. He put them on the small branches. He tied them so that the birds could get at them easily. The birds could perch on the branches and peck at the meat.
He said, "I will not tie them to large branches. Some cat might walk out and catch our birds."
Then he fastened up the baskets. He fastened them tightly. They could not swing. The birds could perch upon the edge and eat the seeds and the corn.
"Now our party is ready," said father. "Do you suppose anything will come to it? We will keep food here the rest of the winter."
How Peter and Polly watched the food! It seemed as if the birds would never come. But at last they found it.
The very next morning Polly saw two birds eating there. She did not know what they were. She ran to tell mother.
"See our birds!" she cried. "We have two. What are they, oh, what are they?"
"You know them in the summer," said mother. "Then the father bird is yellow and black. You call them your canaries."
"But they have changed their clothes,"said Polly. "They do not look the same. They are not so pretty."
"Many birds change their color," said mother. "Do you dress in the winter just as you do in the summer? How those birds like the seeds!"
"There, there!" cried Polly. "See that big bird. He is after the meat. I know him. He is a blue jay. Don't you frighten away my other birds, Mr. Blue Jay."
It was not long before many birds found the food. Day after day the chick-a-dees feasted. A few crows came. Once a flockof snowbirds stopped at the party. And there were many that Peter and Polly did not know.
One day Polly saw a bird that she liked very much. It was a robin. She was surprised and pleased.
"I did not know that robins were here in cold weather," she said to him. "I like you best of all. You make me think of spring. Peter likes winter best. But I like you and spring. Please come to see me every day."
And the robin did for nearly a month. Then he came no more. Perhaps he grew tired of waiting for spring. Perhaps he flew south to find it. Polly never knew.
"I am going to begin to make something to-day," said father. "The stove is lighted. The workshop is warm. Who will be my helper?"
"I will," said Polly.
"I will," said Peter.
"Very well. You may both help. Come to the shop and guess what we are to make."
The workshop was in Mr. Howe's barn. In it was a large workbench. Tools hung on the walls. A box of tools was near the bench.
On the other side of the shop there was a very low workbench. It had two drawers. In the drawers were tools.
There were two small hammers. There were two small saws. There were two small screw drivers. There were two pots of glue. There were nails, tacks, and screws.
The big bench and the big tools were for Mr. Howe. The little bench and the little tools were for Peter and Polly.
It was not hard to guess what was to be made. Father had laid the pieces of wood together. Any one could tell what they would make.
"It's a sled like your low one," said Polly. "I think it must be for Brownie. It is too small for a big horse."
"That is just what it is, Polly. Grandmother wished to give you a sleigh. But this will be better. If you tip over, you will not fall far.
"I am glad to have you learn to use Brownie in the winter, too. The snow will make a soft cushion, if you fall off your sled."
The parts of the sled had been made for father. He needed only to put them together. This did not take very long.
"Now," said father, "the carpenters have finished their work. We must draw our sled to the blacksmith's shop."
"What for?" asked Peter.
"For the iron runners, my boy. They will make your sled slip easily. The blacksmithhas been making them. He says that he will fit them on to-morrow."
So the three took the sled to the blacksmith. On the way Polly rode a little. Then Peter rode a little. Father was the horse.
Once he played that he was running away. He tumbled Polly off into the soft snow. The children thought this great fun.
At the blacksmith's shop they saw the runners. These did not quite fit the wooden runners. Polly felt sorry about this.
But the blacksmith said, "Never you mind, Polly. I can heat them at the forge. That will make them soft. Then I can bend them as I wish.
"You ought to know about this. Haven't you seen me shoe horses? Haven't you seen me make the shoes fit?"
"Yes," said Polly. "But, you see, I forgot about that."
The next afternoon the sled came home. The blacksmith's boy drew it. The iron runners were on. They fitted well.
"Now," said father, "we have another job to begin to-morrow. We must paint the sled. What color shall it be?"
The children talked about it a long time.
At last Polly said, "Peter likes red and I like red. May we paint it red, father?"
"Red is a good color," said father. "We will paint it red. See that your brushes are soft. You must help on the work, you know."
The next day the painting began. Each child had a part to do all alone. Of course, Peter got paint on his hands. And there were large, red spots on his clothes. But they were old, and no one cared.
The first coat of paint dried quickly in the warm room. Then another was put on, and the work was done.
Peter and Polly went to the workshop many times a day to look at the sled. They touched the paint with their fingers. Surely it must be dry.
At last father said, "The paint is hard now. The sled is ready for use. We will harness Brownie to it to-morrow."
"Now may we harness Brownie?" asked Polly.
"Now you may," said father.
He drew out the new, red sled. He put on Brownie's little harness. He helped the children harness her to the sled.
They jumped in. Polly had the reins. She said, "Get up, Brownie," and Brownie walked out of the yard.
"First, we will show grandmother," said Polly. "Brownie is grandmother's present. She must see us driving her."
They stopped in front of grandmother's house. Peter went in to call her to the door. Polly held Brownie.
"Well, well," said grandmother, "that isnice. What a pretty sled you have. I like the color."
"We helped to make it," said Polly. "We wished you to see us first. We are going to show the children now. Hear our pretty sleigh bells. Good-by."
Down the hill Brownie trotted. Her bells jingled softly. She went across the railroad track and into the bridge.
Some of the village children were looking over the railing. They were watching men cutting ice.
When they saw Peter and Polly, they cried, "Here comes the pony! See Peter and Polly! Look at the red sled! Give us a ride! Oh, give us a ride!"
"Yes, we will," said Polly. "Come up on the street, where it is smooth. Two of you get in with us. We will take two more by and by."
Polly could drive quite well. She had often driven father's horse, when father took her with him. She let each child hold Brownie's reins.
"Let more ride at once," said one of the girls. "There is room in the sled."
"No," said Polly. "The pony is strong,but she is little. I will not let her drag more than four. And two are enough, going uphill."
So they trotted up and down the street. Sometimes the boys and girls who were notriding ran by Brownie's side. Brownie seemed to enjoy the fun as much as any of them.
At last it was time to go home. The children all patted the pony. This was to thank her for the good time she had given them. Then Peter and Polly drove away, up the hill.
Mother came out of the house. She said, "Do you think you can do an errand for me? Can you drive to the creamery? I wish some buttermilk. Here is a pail for it."
"What fun," said Polly. "Yes, of course, we can do that. You hold the pail, Peter."
Down the hill they trotted again. At the creamery, Polly took the pail. She went inside.
She said, "Have you some buttermilk for me?"
"Plenty," said the creamery man. "Just hold your pail under the faucet."
"See our new pony," said Polly. "See our new sled."
"Are you driving your pony? I saw her the day she came. She is a fine pony. If you tip over going home, come back for more buttermilk."
"Thank you," said Polly. "We have not tipped over yet."
"There always has to be a first time," said the man.
Going up the hill, Polly said, "We are nearly home. Perhaps we shall not tip over to-day. Why does every one think that we shall?"
But, as they turned into their driveway, Polly pulled the wrong rein. Brownie stepped to the side of the road. One of the sled runners struck a bank of snow.
Over went sled, children, and buttermilk. Brownie stopped and looked around. Polly was standing on her head in the soft snow. Peter was covered with buttermilk. No one was hurt.
Polly scrambled up. She pulled Peter to his feet. She said, "Don't cry, Peter. Buttermilk will not hurt you. You like it."
"Yes, I do," said Peter. "But that is inside, not outside. How would you like it down your neck?"
"Well," said Polly, "you get into the sled again. We must go back for more buttermilk. You may drive all the way. Perhaps you won't tip us over."
"Peter and Polly," said mother, "should you like to play a new game?"
"Oh, yes, oh, yes! Tell us fast!" cried both children.
"I cannot tell you," said mother. "But I will show you. Get ready to go out of doors. Here comes Tim. That is good. He may play, too."
"How many can be in this game, mother?"
"Ever so many, Polly. Please take this dish pan. Peter, carry this pan. Tim, here is one for you. Now follow me."
Mrs. Howe went through the open gate into the hayfield. A hard crust was on the top of the snow.
"See, children," she said, "what a fine crust. It holds me up. It is just right for sliding. By and by the sun will make it soft."
"I wish we had our sleds," said Peter. "Let's go back for them."
"You have them with you," said mother. "That is the game."
"I don't see any game," said Peter. "And I don't see any sleds."
"Then I will show you, my son. Bring your big pan here. Put it down on the edge of the hill. Now sit in it. Hold on to the handles. Keep your feet up. You need not steer. You can't run into anything here. Now go."
Mother gave Peter a push. Away he went on the icy crust.
"Mother, mother!" cried Polly, jumping up and down. "Look at Peter, look! I want to go! I want to go!"
"In a minute," said mother. "Watch Peter, first."
Peter's dish-pan sled was not like a real sled. It did not go straight. It turned around and around. First Peter slid backward, then sideways. At last he reached the bottom.
He stood up and looked around. Then he laughed.
"Did you like it, Peter?" called mother.
"I did! I did!" cried Peter. "It felt just like sliding and rolling down hill at the same time. I am going to play this game all the morning. Let's all go now."
"Very well," said mother. "If you bump into one another, it won't hurt you. Get ready."
So the children, in their dish-pan sleds,started down the hill. Polly bumped into Tim. This made him spin around and around. Polly went the rest of the way backward. Near the bottom she fell out.
Just then Wag-wag came running up the field. He was dragging Peter's sled behind him.
He had heard the children and was coming to find them. Perhaps he thought they had forgotten Peter's sled.
"Oh, look, look!" said Polly. "Wag-wag has a sled, too. Let's give him a slide. Come here, Wag-wag. Come here, sir."
But Wag-wag would not come. Instead, he ran up the hill past Mrs. Howe. The children picked up their dish pans and chased him.
"Never mind," said mother. "When he is tired of playing with the sled, he may bring it back. Or you can go after it.
"Now good-by. Slide until the crust is soft. Then come in. Do you like the new game, children?"
"Oh, we do, we do!" they all cried.
"And we like our new sleds, mother. We are going to name them," said Polly.
"I am going to tell my mother not towash dishes any more. I am going to tell her to give me her dish pan," said Tim.
The children slid for a long time. At last the crust began to be soft. They sank in a little at every step.
"I shall slide once more," Polly said. "Then I shall go home."
"I shall get my sled first," said Peter. "I wish Wag-wag had not left it so far away."
Peter started across the field. Before long, he came to a place where the snow was very soft. He sank into it as far as his legs could go. He could not get to the sled. So he went home feeling quite cross.
Tim's father was in the yard. He had come for Tim. Collie was with him.
Peter said, "Wag-wag is a bad dog. He left my sled out in the field. The snow is soft. I cannot get to it."
Tim said, "My father will send Collie after your sled, Peter. Won't you, father?"
"Oh, will you?" asked Peter. "I shall want to slide in the road after dinner. Dish pans are not good in the road. So I need my sled."
"Why, yes," said Tim's father. "Colliecan get it. He will not break through the crust as you do."
He showed Tim's sled to Collie. He put the rope into Collie's mouth. He pointed to the end of the big field. Then he said, "Collie, go bring the sled."
Collie was a wise dog. He understood many things that were said to him. He knew what his master wished him to do now.
He went running over the snow. He found the sled and drew it home.
"Good old Collie," said his master, patting him.
"There," said Tim, "I told you Collie is smarter than Wag-wag. He is, too."
"Maybe he isn't," said Peter. "Maybe Wag-wag was smart to leave my sled there. But anyway I like Collie because he got it for me."
One winter day grandmother had been visiting Mrs. Brown. In the afternoon she started for home. The sun was warm. The snow was packed hard in the road. The walking was good.
Grandmother liked the cold, crisp air. She liked the blue sky, and the hills and fields all white with snow. She liked to hear the chick-a-dees, calling among the trees.
She was halfway home, when she heard a noise behind her. It was, "Meow, meow."
"That sounds like a cat," said grandmother to herself. "But, of course, it is not. No cat would be in these woods in winter."
"Meow, meow," came the sound again.
This time grandmother looked around. What do you think she saw? There, in the road behind her, were two black and white kittens. They were trotting along side by side. They looked just alike.
Grandmother stopped and called, "Kitty, kitty, kitty! Come here, you pretty kitties. Where did you come from? Are you following me?"
As soon as grandmother stopped, the kittens, too, stopped. She went back toward them. When she did this, the kittens turned and ran away. They did not wish to be caught.
Grandmother called to them again. She tried in every way to get near them. But she could not.
At last she said, "Poor kittens! You do not know that I am your friend. I do not like to leave you here in the cold. But I cannot stay any longer. I must go home."
So she walked on up the road. When the kittens saw this, they started after her. She looked back and saw them following. Side by side they came, their little pointed tails straight up.
"Well, I never!" said grandmother to herself. "Now, do you suppose they will follow me home?"
She kept looking back to see. Every time she looked, the kittens were coming. But, if she stopped, they stopped.
Through the village they went. They did not seem afraid. There were no people about. Not a dog was to be seen.
At last they reached grandmother's house.
"Now," said grandmother, "you have followed me to my door. Are you looking for a new home? Did you pick me out to be your mistress? If you really wish to live with me, you may. We shall see."
She unlocked the door and went in. She left the door open. And after her went the two black and white kittens. They ran under the stove at once. Then grandmother shut the door.
In a short time she gave them some warm milk. When they had finished it, they took a walk around the room.
One found grandmother's workbasket. Then he felt sure that he should like his new home. He began to play with the spools.
His brother saw him. He thought he should like a game, too. So he rolled some of the spools out on the floor. But grandmother put the basket away before they did much harm.
Just then the telephone bell rang. The kittens both looked around. One jumpedupon the table. From there he jumped to the telephone box.
He put his paw on the bell, which kept ringing. Perhaps he thought it would play with him. Perhaps he did not like the noise.
Then one jumped up into grandmother's lap. She patted it; and soon the other came, too.
"You funny kittens," said grandmother. "You are almost alike. You, sir, have a black spot on this leg. You have not. If you are to be my kittens, I must name you.
"You are so nearly alike, I shall call you Cat and Copy-cat. And, if you are good, you shall always live with me.
"Now I will telephone to Peter and Polly about you."
"Peter, I've thought of something. Let's make some snowshoes."
"How do you do it, Polly?"
"I think I know. I saw a pair this morning. They were made of barrel staves. They are not real snowshoes, of course."
"Of course not," said Peter. "Father's snowshoes are not made of barrel staves. Let's go to look at his. Let's make some like them."
"We can't, Peter. But we can make the other kind. Let's see if there is a broken barrel. Then we'll ask mother if we may have four staves."
"My flour barrel is just empty," said mother. "We will roll it outside. I will knock it to pieces. Then you may have your four staves. Please clean them out of doors. If you do not, you will get flour all over the workshop."
When the children took the staves into the workshop, Peter said, "What next?"
"We want four strips of leather next. They are for straps. We will tack one strap on each stave. They will go across the staves. We will tack them at the sides. They must be loose. We shall put our toes under them."
"How will our snowshoes stay on?" asked Peter.
"I'll show you by and by. I must ask mother to cut this leather for me."
When the leather was cut, Polly tacked on the straps. The snowshoes now looked like this:
"I wish to put mine on," said Peter.
So he stuck his toes under the leather straps. He scuffed over the floor. Then he tried to go backward. But he only pulled his feet out of the leather straps.
"They will not stay on. I knew they would not," he said. "I do not like them very well."
"I'm fixing mine so that they will stay on," said Polly. "I will fix yours, too."
To each end of the leather straps Polly had tied a piece of soft rope. Her snowshoes now looked like this:
"Put your toes under the straps, Peter. I will wind the ropes back of your heels. Now they go around your ankles and tie in front. See if the snowshoes will come off now."
Peter scuffed around the room again. The snowshoes held fast. They worked very well when he scuffed. But, if he tried to step, the backs flew up and hit him.
"Father's don't do that," said Peter.
"I know it," said Polly. "There are holes in father's. His toes go down through those holes. You haven't any holes. So your toes push the front of your snowshoes down. Then the backs fly up and hit you. You must scuff, not walk."
"I will," said Peter. "Let's go out ofdoors and try them. They are good snowshoes now."
So out the children went. There was a little crust. The children walked on it. Their snowshoes held them up.
They called to mother. She must see them. Mother looked through the window. She clapped her hands.
All went well for a few steps. Then the toe of Polly's snowshoe caught. It cut into the crust.
This pulled Polly forward. She fell on her face. Her arms stuck down into thesnow. The points of her snowshoes stuck down into the snow, too. At first Polly could not get up.
Then she rolled over on her side. She was almost on her feet again, when Wag-wag dashed up.
He had seen Polly rolling in the snow. He thought it was a game. He wished to play, too.
He took the end of one snowshoe in his teeth. He pulled and pulled. He shook the snowshoe. Then he jumped around Polly and on her.
Polly was laughing so that she could not scold him. She could only say, "Oh, don't, Wag-wag! Don't!"
Mother and Peter were laughing. And perhaps Wag-wag was laughing, too.
At last he stopped playing. Mother came out of the house. She threw a broom to Polly. Polly helped herself up with this.
She said, "These are good snowshoes. They are best when I am on them. They are not so good when I am down. But I think that I can do better than that next time."
"We are going on a picnic to-day, chicks," said Mr. Howe.
"A picnic, father! I thought picnics were in summer."
"So they are, Polly. But why not have a winter picnic, too? I am going into the woods. You may come, if you wish."
"But at picnics we have things to eat. We eat out of doors."
"We shall have things to eat to-day. And we shall eat out of doors, too."
"But, father, we shall be cold!"
"What keeps us warm in the house in winter, Polly?"
"A fire," said Polly. "Oh, now I know, now I know! You will build a fire in the woods. Once you promised me that you would. Goody, goody, goody, goody!" And Polly jumped up and down for joy.
"What shall we eat?" asked Peter. "Just bread and butter?"
"Oh, no," said father. "We shall have bread and butter, of course. But we shall have other things, too. We will cook our dinner."
"Oh, oh, oh!" cried both children.
"Are you glad? I thought you would like it. Now help me get ready. Please get my knapsack, Polly."
In the kitchen, mother was busy spreading bread. She wrapped paper around the slices. She put coffee into a small, cheese-cloth bag. She filled a flat bottle with milk.
Father took six eggs. He rolled them up in paper. He put a jar of bacon into his knapsack. Then the bread, coffee, and eggs were fitted in. The bottle of milk went into his pocket.
"We will take my camp dishes," he said. "I will fasten my hatchet to my belt. Get on your things, and we are ready."
"Let's play that we are Indians," said Polly. "Where are we going, father?"
"Up the wood road on the hill. I must see if all our wood has been cut. We need a little for our furnace, a little for our stove, and a great deal for our fireplaces.
"Let's all keep our eyes wide open to-day. We may see interesting things."
"I think that cooking our dinner will be interesting, father. I almost wish it were dinner time now."
"We will build our fire where our trees have been cut. There we shall find plenty of firewood," said father.
"See those tracks in the snow, children. A rabbit has been here. Yes, this hollow is where he lies. The snow is packed hard. It is a little dirty, too. Perhaps he is near by, watching us."
"Poor rabbit," said Polly. "What a cold bed. The Eskimos have snow beds. But they have fur rugs to cover the snow."
"The rabbit has one between him and thesnow, too. Only his rug is on his back. It keeps him warm," said father.
"Look, look!" cried Polly. "Over there by those trees!"
"That's surely a rabbit, Polly. See him jump along. He is nearly as white as the snow. He did not wait for us to call, did he?"
"What big jumps," said Polly. "I think he could beat Wag-wag."
"I am sure that he could, Polly. His hind legs are very long. They are made for jumping. He can take twice as big jumps as he is taking now. But he will not, unless we frighten him."
"Why doesn't he go into a hole in the winter? Why doesn't he sleep until spring comes? The woodchuck does. Why doesn't he?" asked Polly.
"He is not made so that he can. Some animals store up fat on themselves. In the winter they go to sleep.
"Then they seem to live on that fat. For, in the spring, they are always thin and hungry looking.
"You couldn't do that, you know. And the rabbit cannot do it. What are those birds, Peter?"
"Chickadees," said Peter. "I always know them. They cannot fool me. They never say anything but 'chick-a-dee.'"
"Oh, yes, they do, my son. Listen! What is that? There it is again."
"Some one is whistling," said Polly. "Isn't it a pretty whistle?"
"It is just two notes," said father. "Aren't they sweet and clear?"
"It is quite near. But I cannot see any one. Are you doing it, father?" asked Polly. "Why, now I can hear three people."
"Look above you, Polly. You will see who is whistling."
Polly looked. There on a limb of a tree was a chick-a-dee. He was singing those two notes. In the next tree another was singing two other notes.
"So you see, Peter, that they do say something besides 'chick-a-dee.' These two notes are their song. The other is just their talk. Perhaps you can learn to whistle those notes.
"Here is the place where our wood has been cut. Let us look at it."