"Why doesn't the ground melt, Polly?"
"Well, I don't know. You ask father. Snow melts because it is made of water."
"Butter melts, sugar melts," said Peter. "They are not made of water. I wish to know why the ground does not melt, too. I wish to know now."
"Peter, can't you stop asking questions and go to work? See, first we must dig a path here. Then we will begin our door."
It took a long time to dig the path. But at last it was finished. Then they made a hole. It went straight into the side of the big snow pile. That was for the door.
"Now we must hollow out a place," said Polly. "It will be our room. We must make it large. We shall sleep there and eat there and live there. That is the way the Eskimos do. I read it in a book at school."
"I'd rather live in a house," said Peter. "Let's live in the house and play out here."
"Then we will," said Polly. "It would be cold here anyway. I should think Eskimos would freeze in snow houses. But they do not."
The next day the children scraped out more snow, and the next and the next. At last they had made quite a large room.
It was nearly round. The floor was packed hard. The white walls were smooth. Polly could stand up straight in the middle.