"They'll only be make-believe," Ted went on. "Me an' Tom Taylor an' some of the fellows'll be the Indians."
But the big snow held off, though each morning, as soon as they arose from their beds, Jan and Ted would run to the window to look out to see if it had come in the night. There was just a little covering of white on the ground, and in some places, along the streets and the sidewalks, it had been shoveled away.
"Do you think it will snow for Thanksgiving?" asked the Curlytops again and again.
"Yes, I think so," their mother would answer.
Such busy times as there were at the Martin house! Mrs. Martin and Nora were in the kitchen most of each day, baking, boiling, frying, stewing and cooking in other ways. There was to be a pumpkin pie, of course—in fact two or three of them, as well as pies of mincemeat and of apple.
"There must be a lot of company coming," said Ted to Janet; "'cause they're bakin' an awful lot."
"Well, everybody eats a lot at Thanksgiving," said the little girl. "Only I hope we have snow and lots of company."
"Did you hear anything more about the lame boy and the missing pocketbook and money?" asked Mrs. Martin of her husband two or three days before Thanksgiving.
"No, not a thing," he answered. "He did not come back to the store, and we haven't found the lost money. I am hoping we shall, though, for, though I can't guess who the lame boy was, if he wasn't Hal, I wouldn't want to think any little chap would take what did not belong to him."
"Nor would I," said the Curlytops' mother.