"Then here is the corn. Take it to mother and tell her about the ice."
Off went the children. When they came to the bridge, Peter dropped some small stones on the ice. But it did not break.
"It must be thick now, Polly," said he. "I wish we could skate."
"We weigh more than those stones do, Peter. I think the cold will have to make the ice grow more before father will let us. And, anyway, we have no skates."
"Let's tell mother about that, too, Polly. Perhaps she knows where there are some."
So Peter and Polly hurried up the hill to find their mother.
