"It is time I was on my round," said Jack Frost, in a snappy, sharp tone. "I mean to begin early and not let all the farmers get ahead of me and get their corn and pumpkins and such things in the barn.
"They will have to look out for me, I tell you, mother. I am a sharp, snappy young fellow, and they must know it."
"You go back to your bed," said old Madam North Wind. "It is not time for frosts yet. You should not begin your rounds for another two weeks at least."
"Oh, mother, you are so old-fashioned," said Jack Frost. "I want to be up and doing. Those farmers think they know everything there is to know about the weather, and I want to show them I am too smart for them. I shall start off to-night."
"You listen to me if you do not wish to spoil all your beautiful colored pictures, Jack," said his mother. "I may be old-fashioned, but I know what the beauty of your work is worth, and if you do not wish to lose your reputation as an artist you go back to your bed and wait until I call you."
But Jack Frost, like many a son, thought his mother was far too old-fashioned; but to keep her from fretting he crept into bed again and kept still until he was sure his mother was asleep.
All day he kept quiet, and when the darkness came he listened to make sure old Madam North Wind was still sleeping before he crept softly out of his bed.
Very quietly he got out his big white coat and cap and then he filled his big white bag with white shiny frost from his mother's chest.
He filled the bag full and then shook it down and put in more. "I'll give them a good one to-night," he said, laughing at the thought of the surprise he would give the farmers.
Then he crept softly past his sleeping mother, and out he went; flying swiftly over hill and dale.