"Yes," said father, "we shall have plenty of wood. See, this wood with rough bark is maple. This, with smooth bark and lighter spots, is beech. We will not use it in our fireplaces. It might snap sparks out on the floor.
"And here is some beautiful white birch. This is for our fireplaces. Here is yellow birch, too. Yes, there is plenty for next winter."
"If we were really Indians, we could make canoes out of the white birch bark," said Polly.
"Isn't it nice here? The trees are thick all about us. How still it is!"
"It is still in the woods in winter," said father. "I always like it."
"I think it is too bad to cut the trees down, father. Will they grow again?"
"See, Polly," said father. "We have cut down only the largest trees. They were as large as they would ever be. Now the smaller ones will have a better chance to grow.
"I would not cut them all down, unless I planted more. It would not be good for my land to do that.
"This is the spot for our fire. Let us make it now."
He found a place, near a log, where the snow was not deep. He cleared most of it away. There he built the fire. He used pieces of birch bark instead of paper. Small twigs made very good kindling wood.