“Well, you may both go,” said Papa. “And between you I think you can bring in a good big one. But mind not to trip over it.”
Out they ran to the wood-pile, which was close behind the house on the edge of the forest, where Rose suspected that the fairies lived, and where Kenneth was sure that there were Indians. But neither Kenneth nor Rose was afraid. They were very brave children, especially by daylight.
“Here is a nice little log,” said Rose.
“Oh, that isn’t half big enough,” cried Kenneth scornfully. “Let’s carry this one, Rose. This is something like;” and he seized one of the very largest logs in the wood-pile.
“All right,” said Rose; and she bravely stretched her little arms around the other end. They tugged and they tugged, and they grunted and grunted, and they pulled and pulled; and finally, after pushing and hauling and rolling and shoving it, they got the log up on to the piazza, where it fell with a bang! Out came their father and mother to see what all the noise meant.
“Mercy!” cried their mother. “How could you two children bring in such an enormous log as that? Aren’t your poor little backs broken?”
“I’m not so very small. I’m ten,” said Kenneth, drawing himself up.
“And I am seven,” said Rose proudly.
“Of course,” said their father; “it is good exercise for them, Mama, and will make them big and strong. Don’t you remember the story about the poor little girl who learned to carry a cow upstairs, and so the Prince married her?”
“Oh, how did she learn?” cried Rose eagerly. “Could I do it?”