"I guess we can mend it, maybe," interposed Meg cheerfully. "I'm going out and get some bread and peanut butter. Who wants some?"
They all did, it seemed, even Dot and Twaddles, who were too young to go to school, but who managed to have famous appetites as regularly as the older children. Mother Blossom allowed them to have what Norah called a "snack" every afternoon after school, and Meg was always careful to see that they ate only the things permitted and that no one dipped into the cake box.
"Look how white!" cried Dot, finishing her bread and butter first, and kneeling on a kitchen chair to see out of the window. "The ground is all covered already and you can see feetsteps."
"Footsteps," corrected Bobby, taking a last large bite of his lunch.
"Shoesteps," insisted Meg, closing the pantry door and putting away the bread.
"That isn't a shoestep," argued Bobby, pointing to a particularly clear and distinct print in the snow just outside the window.
"'Tis, too," scolded Meg. "That's where Sam went out to the garage."
"'Tisn't a shoestep, 'tisn't a shoestep!" chanted Bobby, bent on teasing.
Meg's fair face flushed. She was exasperated.
"What is it, then?" she snapped.