“Dot looks dressed up to me,” announced Jud. “Keep her out of the mud, somebody.”
“This is my prettiest dress,” said Dot serenely, smoothing down the folds of her white dotted swiss under her coral-colored sweater.
Mrs. Sally Sweet looked mildly interested when she saw such a number of people coming into her comfortable barnyard, and when Jud drove her into the barn and fastened her in the stanchion, all the children stood around to watch.
When Jud had the pail nearly full of milk, he rose carefully.
“Now, Meg,” he said, “you sit here. Easy now; don’t be nervous. Don’t you know a cow won’t give milk if she knows you’re nervous? Now work your fingers like this–––”
Meg sat on the three-legged stool and tried to do exactly as Jud told her. Bobby and Dot and Twaddles stared at her open-mouthed. She was actually milking a live cow!
“Keep right on; that’s fine,” encouraged Jud. “You’re doing first rate.”
His father called him just then, and he ran to the door to see what was wanted. Meg, beaming, kept on milking. All would have been well if Mrs. Sally Sweet hadn’t remembered her calf, Buttercup, and opened her mouth to give a tremendous and unexpected, “Moo!”
The four little Blossoms were sadly startled. Meg jumped up, upsetting the pail of milk over herself and Bobby, who stood nearest, and knocking down Twaddles and Dot who were close behind her. As luck would have it, both twins pitched into a heap of soft hay and were 81 not hurt at all. But when they scrambled to their feet, alas! streams of yellow, bright yellow, decorated Dot’s sweater and dress and splashed Twaddles’ middy blouse.