"Then let's!" cried Teddy. "Go on, Nicknack, we're going to make snow-cream! Is it awful good?" he asked his sister.
"Terrible good," she answered. "I didn't have any yet this winter, but we had some last. It's better'n lollypops."
"Then it must be specially extra good," decided Ted. "Hurry up, Nicknack."
The goat hurried as much as he could, but, though it was easier going on the snow than on the ice, still it was not as easy as on the dry ground in summer.
Along the street, around this corner, then around the next went the Curlytops on the sled pulled by Nicknack, until, at last, they came to the house of Aunt Sallie, a dear old lady who was always glad to see them.
"My gracious sakes alive!" she cried, as she met the two children. "Here we come, in our coach and four, just like Cinderella out of the pumpkin pie!"
"Oh, Cinderella didn't come out of a pumpkin pie, Aunt Sallie!" gasped Janet.
"No? Well, I was thinking of some pumpkin pies I just baked, I guess," said Aunt Sallie Newton, who was really Mrs. Martin's aunt, and so, of course, the Curlytops' great-aunt, though they called her "Aunt" Sallie, and not "Great-aunt" Sallie. "Yes, I guess that was it—the pumpkin pies I baked. Maybe you'd like some?" she asked, looking at the children.
"Oh, I just guess we would!" cried Teddy eagerly.
"And we'd like some snow-cream, too, if you please," said Jan. "Could we make some, Aunt Sallie?"