Chicken Little watched Ernest tie his red muffler around his neck and sling his skates across his shoulder, enviously.
“I wish I could go skating,” she sighed.
“You shall some day, dear,” said her mother, who was sitting sewing by the open fire. “But the pond is too far away for you to go without some older person to look after you.”
“I don’t see why Ernest and Carol couldn’t look after me.”
“They would forget you in ten minutes. No, you must be patient, little daughter, and wait till you are bigger.”
Chicken Little flattened her nose against the cold pane ruefully.
“You may go and play with Katy and Gertie for an hour if you wish.”