The Toyman looked at the sky, then at the ground, and then at his shop.
"Guess I'll knock off," he said. He was always knocking off work or something for the children.
But he had to stop their quarreling now. Each one wanted the honor of pulling the big bobsled first. For it was a thing to be proud of, with its yellow runners and the blue edge around them, and the red seat with the white star in the middle.
"You're as bad as the pigs in the corner pen," said the Toyman, "where are your manners?"
That settled it, of course. Turns! That was the proper way, and off they went.
But after all, "taking turns" wasn't as fine as the next thing the Toyman suggested.
"All jump on," he called, "and I'll be the cayuse."
That was a funny word he had learned out West, but by this time the children knew he meant horse. So the three, Jehosophat, Marmaduke, and Hepzebiah, sat on the red seat and were pulled through the snow, oh, ever so swiftly!
It was like riding through fairyland, for the branches above them were furred with white feathery snow, and the woods looked like some great lace design made by the Winter Queen who, they say, knits when the nights are cold and the Winter King is out at the club.
Soon they reached the hill. It was pretty steep and Jehosophat and Marmaduke wanted to get off and walk up so as to make it easier for the Toyman. He wouldn't hear of that, but just set his shoulders like Teddy in the shafts and puffed and pulled up hill.