"Now, good-by. We have all had a good time. Take my skates home with you and dry them when you dry yours. Then they will not rust. We will bring mother the next time we come."
THE FIRST SNOWSTORM
One morning mother called to Peter, "Wake up, Peter! Look out of your window. Winter has come."
Peter had been dreaming about a big snow man who chased him. He jumped out of bed and said, "You didn't get me that time, old snow man. I woke up too soon."
He ran to the window. The ground was white. The trees were white. The air was full of the white butterflies that Peter likes so well.
"Oh! Oh!" he shouted. "I must go out to play! I must go out to play!"
"Not until you are dressed, Peter," said mother. "Then you must have breakfast. After that you may go out."
At breakfast father said, "It has snowed a foot since dark yesterday. How many inches is that, Polly?"