On such a night the wind howled in the street without, beat upon the window-panes, and rustled through the trees, which stood, tall and leafless, in the big garden over the way.
Little Peter did not trouble his head on the subject. He sat indoors on a little footstool, near the fire, and close also to his mother, who was busy cutting up parsnips for next day's dinner.
Peter paid great attention as his mother took a well-boiled parsnip out of the saucepan, scraped it, cut it, and laid the pieces on a clean white dish.
His mother's thoughts were elsewhere. She looked sad and pensive. Only from time to time she nodded across the dish towards her little Peter, and when he got up and came and laid his head in her lap, she gently smoothed his fair hair from his brow, and then she smiled too.
Peter had no idea that his mother was sad. He had got another parsnip out of the pan, and wanted to scrape it all by himself; but he was not very skilful, and he worked so slowly that in the end his mother had to finish it for him.
The next thing he did was to upset the saucepan; the parsnips fell out, and Peter began to count them.
All at once he gave a cry that made his mother jump. He had found a parsnip-root that looked exactly like a little man. It had a regular head of its own, with a long nose, its body was short, and it had two shrivelled stringy little legs; arms it had none.
"That's a little Parsnip-man," said his mother, when Peter showed it to her.